Friday, November 17, 2006, 20:22
Hole-y Cow!
When I walked out of the basement Thursday morning carrying a pail of water for Isabelle, I was expecting to see a whole dog -- not a half a dog.
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I mean, really. What happened to the rest of Charlie? All I could see of the Springer was his hind legs and tail.
Then it dawned on me.
The front end of Charlie was down in a hole.
A hole that he was digging in the lawn.
In the drainfield, to be exact.
"Charlie!" I said. "What are you doing?"
Charlie drew back from the hole. His face was covered with muddy dirt. His tongue was hanging halfway to his knees, and his eyes sparkled with delight.
He wiggled his stubby tail a moment and then dove back down into the hole again, digging furiously, sending up sprays of dirt behind him.
"What's down there, Charlie?" I said. "Besides the drainfield?"
Charlie didn't answer. He just went on digging.
Then I saw it. A small gopher mound not far from where Charlie was wreaking havoc with the lawn.
"Is the gopher down there Charlie?" I said.
Charlie didn't bother to look at me. He just kept on digging furiously.
"If the gopher is down there, after you've made this kind of mess, the least you can do is catch it," I said.
I knew it was useless to try to get Charlie to stop because as soon as I walked away, he'd be back at it again.
A while later when I came up to the back of the house, Charlie came, too. His feet looked as if he had been walking in ankle-deep mud. And his face looked like he had taken a nose-dive into the mud.
"Did you get the gopher Charlie?" I asked.
Charlie, with his tongue still hanging down halfway to his knees and his eyes still sparkling with delight, perked his ears at the sound of his name. But he didn't tell me if he had caught the gopher.
When I walked around to the front of the house Thursday evening while I was feeding the horses, I could see that Charlie had been at it again and had dug a second hole.
I showed the holes to Randy when he came home from work and informed him we would have to repair the drainfield.
Then, Thursday night when I gave the horses more hay before going to bed, I almost jumped out of my skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see something *moving* near one of the holes Charlie had dug. And I then I could see something moving *in* one of the holes.
I shined the flashlight in that direction -- only to discover my little tabby Bobby Cat staring back at me. Apparently she decided she ought to check out the holes.
This morning when I fed the horses, I noticed my black tom cat Rocky sitting in one of Charlie's holes.
Actually, I had no idea cats liked holes that well.
Or maybe they were waiting for the gopher, too. I've seen the cats out in Isabelle's pasture sitting motionless for the better part of a day. I know cats have a ton of patience when hunting is involved.
Allergy Attack -- The mold count must be very high outside today. It has been cloudy and damp all week. Every time I'm outside my eyes itch and burn and water, my nose runs, my throat and the insides of my ears itch and a I feel dizzy. And this is in spite of three different kinds of antihistamines, eye drops and nose spray! When we had a little snow on the ground, I felt better. But all of the snow is gone now. Charlie's eyes are red and watery today, too, and he sounds kind of snuffly when he breathes.
Snowflake -- Little Miss Snowflake crossed another milestone the other day. Wednesday when I took the blanket off her box to feed her in the afternoon, she jumped up on the side of the box and would have been over and out in two seconds if I hadn't grabbed her. This told me it was time for a bigger box. I fixed up a plastic tote box for her. Thursday afternoon when I took her out to feed her, my 15-year-old cat Guinevere was waiting. She hopped in the box and curled up on the heating pad for a nap.
Snowflake's eyes are starting to change, as well. I can see that she is beginning to develop pupils. For the first few weeks after their eyes are open, kittens don't have pupils.
Randy took some pictures of Snowflake last Sunday. He set his coffee cup down for comparison. She could have fit in the coffee cup!
I took some pictures of Snowflake Thursday afternoon when she fell asleep on my lap. She is still no bigger than my hand. But she is much, much bigger than she was three weeks ago!
LeAnn R. Ralph
Wednesday, November 15, 2006, 19:31
Working Out
I certainly got my share of exercise this morning.
Seeing as it is so muddy and sloppy in the horse pastures, I decided I ought to clean up some of the muddy hay the horses had stomped down into the ground.
The horses like to flip the hay over to see if they can find "something better" on the bottom of flake. And then they walk on the flakes of hay after they have flipped them over. Because of the severe drought last summer, the hay is not of the best quality. But -- it's what we've got. Except for the few bales of alfalfa hay I procured from my brother, which I have been rationing carefully. The horses don't flip over the flakes of alfalfa hay. They put their noses to it and eat until it's gone.
At any rate, if the wet, muddy hay stays stomped up on the ground, the ground underneath never dries out. So I decided to pick up what I could and put it on the manure piles.
I also had quite a bit of horse manure to pick up from the past few days.
So, armed with my stall picker, fork, manure bucket and rake, I set to work.
And hour and a half later, I had the mess reasonably well cleaned up. You can never get it all cleaned up, of course.
By the time I was finished, in spite of wearing only a sweatshirt on a 40-degree day, I was dripping wet with sweat.
Who says you need to go to a gym to work out?
While I was out in the pasture, I also figured I ought to let Kajun out in the L-pasture. It's a reasonably nice day. Not windy. Not raining or snowing.
Right.
As soon as Kajun got out in the lane, he started running back and forth between the gate and the L-pasture. This set Isabelle off. She also started tearing back and forth along the fence. Because of the recent snow, it is extremely muddy in the corner of Isabelle's pasture by the gate.
At one point, Isabelle came tearing up to the gate, slid to a halt in the mud, tried to spin around, ended up with her head through the fence, her nose almost touching the ground, one leg straight out in front of her under the fence, her other front let curled behind her -- fighting to stay on her feet.
She finally got herself out of that situation -- and then the next thing I knew, she and Kajun were in the corner by the gate, squealing at each other, biting and wheeling around kicking -- and hitting the gate in the process.
"Okay, that's it," I said. "If you two can't behave yourselves better than that, I guess *nobody* gets to go out in the L-pasture today."
I went into the barn for a thin little sliver of alfalfa hay. I have not been feeding the alfalfa hay to Kajun very often because it makes his feet hot and sore. Obviously, though, the way he was tearing around this morning, his feet felt fine.
"Kajun. Would you like this thin little sliver of alfalfa hay?" I asked.
Kajun was quite certain he *would* like that little thin sliver of alfalfa hay.
I tossed it on the ground for him, and as he started munching, I closed the gate.
Then Isabelle thought maybe *she* should have a thin little sliver of alfalfa hay.
If it dries up sometime in the next week or two, maybe one or the other of them can go out in the L-pasture. Until then, they'll have to be content with their own respective pastures.
Snowflake -- My little Miss Snowflake had a terrible day yesterday. So did I, actually.
I fed her early in the morning, and then I had to leave for a county board meeting that started at 9 a.m. The meeting lasted all morning, then I had to write the story, then I had to go to a charter school board of directors meeting at 2 p.m.. The meeting went on forever. It finally got over at a little after 4 p.m. And I still had a 45 minute drive home.
By the time I got home, Snowflake was beside herself. She had been alone all day and she was certain she had been abandoned. I hurried to get her formula ready, and all the while, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. The poor little thing was inconsolable. She ate, but in between sips of formula, she screamed and screamed. I tried holding her. I tried playing with her. I tried letting her snoop around on the living room carpet. I tried singing to her. I tried chirping at her (like a momma cat would). Nothing worked. She was inconsolable.
Finally, after an hour of screaming at the top of her lungs, in between sips of formula, she began to calm down a little bit.
Then, of course, Pixie sounded off outside. I had taken Pixie out as soon as I got home, and then I let Charlie out of his kennel. Pixie wanted to stay outside.
She kept sounding off, so I figured I'd better go outside to investigate. I put Snowflake into the plastic "baby sitter" pail with towels in the bottom of it, and then I went out on the porch. As soon as I opened the door, I could hear them.
Coyotes. Howling. Only a couple of hundred feet from the house.
"KNOCK IT OFF!" I bellowed. "GET OUT OF HERE!"
Yelling at the coyotes usually gets them to stop howling.
Sorry I can't same the same for Snowflake.
She could apparently hear me bellowing at the top of my lungs outside the kitchen door -- and that set her off again. She screamed and cried and was inconsolable for another half an hour.
I'm hoping that yelling at the coyotes sends them on their way. Seeing as I don't hear them after I have yelled at them, I like to think they are slinking off somewhere else.
They had BETTER be slinking off somewhere else after causing my poor little Snowflake to get all upset again.
I finally got her to calm down, and then she was able to fall asleep. Poor, poor baby. She thought she was all alone in the world and that no one was *ever* coming to feed her.
I can certainly say this for Snowflake: she knows what she wants, when she wants it, and if she doesn't get it LOOK OUT!
When everything is fine, she is a happy little kitten, purring and playing and licking my fingers and pretending to bite my hands. When things are not fine, she want to make certain the whole world knows about it.
LeAnn R. Ralph
