Friday, January 22, 2010
I don't care if it's -20 degrees or a scorching mid-summer day. I can spend literally hours digging, planning the budget, seeding the soil, and purchasing outbuildings.
I happily move fence posts and corrals, check the barns for newborn calves, brush the horses, clip the sheep, and milk the goats. I gather eggs, share them with my neighbors, and pluck the feathers from my geese, turkeys, and ducks.
My neatly planted trees are harvested regularly, and I gather lovely bunches of flowers from my greenhouse and sell them from my stand.
Somehow I even find the time to tend to my own big yard - trimming the hedges and big evergreen trees, as well as tending the flowers - after shooing the cats out of their shade.
And all while sitting on my big butt - t.v. blaring in the background.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Her name is Andie, and we found her 9 days ago at the pound. She was spayed the next morning & we brought her stoned, limp, stinky body home.
Where she proceeded to pee, poop up Giardia parasites, and eventually cough up 1/2 of a lung. After a 2am trip to the 24 hour veterinary hospital, we found out that she had pneumonia and was gonna die like a dog if we didn't put her into isolation with an i.v. drip, yadda yadda for $2500 - $3500. And she might die anyway.
For the most part, we opted to care for her at home - pushing ringers lactate subcutaneously, feeding 'pill pockets' of antibiotics, sprinkling powder onto her food, and thumping her sides.
When things started to look pretty hopeless, she ended up spending 2 days (with a night at home in between) in the hospital where they did the same thing. For a lot of money.
She liked us better.
Unfortunately, our house smells like an infected spitoon because for 2 days she choked and choked and choked and choked and we wiped and wiped and lysoled and scooped and hosed and bleached and cried and yet....
Potty training aside, things are looking up.
Monday, January 4, 2010
I prefer big dogs. I have always considered any dog under 20 pounds a 'drop-kick dog.' Not just useless, but unworthy of the breath that they steal from REAL animals.
I've especially despised Chihuahuas. I've always found them yappy, unsmiling rodents who dart up to you so fast that your ankles are bloody before you've had time to take evasive action. Unless they are mincing and wiggling on your lap, slathering kisses into your mouth as their smiling owners say, "Oooh. He LIKES you!"
Kill them all. Stupid dogs. Stupid owners.
But then I met Mocha. My cousin's totally, un-nasty TINY dog. I had no idea that Chihuahuas can fetch little balls. That they are fierce and fearless at tug-of-war and play-growl like they can whip a 200 pound man. That they really CAN be taught not to eat the neighbor lady.
And they are soooo stinkin' cute when they get sleepy and their yawns are so big that they almost turn inside out.
I want a Chihuahua. And I would only let it bite mean people who call them 'drop-kick dogs.'
I guess you can teach an old lady new tricks.