Friday, February 28, 2014
While the snow looks beautiful as it falls, the after effects are daunting--our footing precarious, driving treacherous, spending unnecessary monies for plowing the driveway, buying way-too-expensive fuel oil, keeping all the animals warm and safe. As well, my horses haven't ventured out into the far-out pastures: too icy even for four-footed ones that weigh a thousand pounds. Oh, God: deliver us from this misery, they seem to be thinking as they stand outside in the only ray of warm sunshine--a prelude of spring, wherever she may be hiding.
So, I make this entry with bits of seed soil under my fingernails, and I hope that, somehow, this nasty storm while spare us. But if it doesn't, I will tend my seeds tucked comfortably into their soil, spray a fine mist over them, talk to them hoping that they can hear and may put extra effort into germinating and giving me a ray of hope in this dismal white world.
Everyone keep warm and safe.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Death is the grand spoiler. She interrupts, spoils, disrupts, and shocks. She is the ultimate Shock Jock. And I hate her. We all hate her.
Recently she stole my Ricky cat, and I can smell her hovering over my two old, arthritic horses. And, who knows? She may even have her vacuous eye on me as I drive, as I shop, as I sleep. One never knows when or where the spoiler will next appear.
Just two days ago she came to my friend, Mare's, house and stole her cat, Meg--Mare's best buddy for 20 years and 4 months. She came stealthily, leaving little signs for months, like mouse turds in a cabinet, that she had an eye on Meg. As Meg's appetite grew slimmer and slimmer, Mare knew Death was stalking her friend. She did all she could do to stave off the rancid devil, but she showed up for an overnight visit the other night.
And that was the end of Meg.
I post Meg's picture here so that not only my friends can appreciate Mare's cat for her loyalty, her affectionate nature, her lust for life, but also so that Death can see it too, if she's on Facebook, Twitter, or reads my blogs. I want Death to know that she fails in so many ways. She fails because we all have the ability to remember our loved ones and pass on their memory to others who may remember and pass it on to still others. She fails because in our various ways, many of us prepare memorials to the one who she's taken from us and, therefore, keep that dead one alive. She fails because, through science and good medicine, we mortals can often hold her back until she comes at us with a vengeance. She fails because we eventually triumph over our misery.
Death, you loser, Be Not Proud!
Sunday, February 16, 2014
As I sit here trying to fight my way through Twitter and Facebook--I'm of an older generation that has to learn social media by the hit-or-miss method--the deer are gathering outside my window for my meager offering of corn. Yes, I feed the deer; they've had it rough this winter, too. Their life is difficult--way more than mine, I guess--having to avoid getting shot by hunters in deer season and now by poachers in non-deer killing season, bedding down in the pouring, freezing rain, and having to nourish themselves when most of their food is under two feet of snow. And their water sources are frozen-over, forcing them to cross dangerous highways to travel down to the river. It's not an easy life. So, I've begun to try to make their lives just a bit easier by putting out corn.
Every evening around this time the herd approaches, stealthily--never at ease, never able to thoroughly enjoy a meal in peace and quiet as I do. No, the deer are constantly on edge, fidgety--they know to watch for two-leggeds with guns, cars, and bad intentions.
What they don't know is that I do not, or ever will, carry a gun to kill them. I am their feeder, their nourisher. I just hope to fill their bellies and make one afternoon a bit easier for them.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Forgive me, if you can, for getting on my soapbox about the devolution of my America. I am upset about the direction this country is going under Obama's autocracy, and I must have my say. Most Americans are suffering these days: fuel oil is over four dollars a gallon; food prices are inflated; jobs are scarcer than a flea on a pig. A US citizen can hardly stay warm or even eat decently these days, and many of us don't have a pot to piss in because we're scraping to pay taxes that are unreasonable, at best. It's time the suffering stops for the middle class, for we are the only ones up against it right now. So here be my cathartic piece, if it's nothing else. Hereafter I will limit myself to goodies about animals.
Friday, February 7, 2014
I also completed a handbook for potential and current miniature pig companions. It's working title is THE COMPANION PIG. I cranked it out in fewer than three months with the help of my friends and contributors Susan Magidson, Jeannie Watson, Dr. Arlen Wilbers, and, of course, my agent Diana Flegal. Without them the book would have been rather skeletal. But it is finished now, and it is in Diana's hands. We shall see how enthusiastic the publishers will be for it, but I know there's a bunch of readers out there who are in desperate need of an all-inclusive book on how to care for piglets and adult pigs. And I know, too, that lots of pig humans (I cannot call them "owners" because pigs do not allow themselves to be owned as dogs and cats do.) would appreciate a book that guides a reader on how to re-train an aggressive piggy. THE COMPANION PIG attempts to do it all.
In the meantime I'm heading outside to muck horse stalls and probably fall on the jagged ice for the umpteenth time. And if I have another creative idea spring into my mind, I will begin authoring another book. At least that will be a safer journey than the one outside.
The picture posted here is by pet photographer, Dennis Gillette, who photographed my friend, Sheryl's pig, Pee-Wee a few years ago. Pee-Wee is giving me one of his famous kisses.