As most of you know, we have a nice room that is on Airbnb (bed & breakfast). We have an older couple staying with us all weekend from N. Carolina. They aren’t exactly animal people and have no interest meeting the large fur balls in the pasture who have been staring at them like stalkers every time they go outside to eat on the porch. The llamas along with Dunkay, line up at the fence and watch these folks…every move they make, they see it…watching…waiting…hoping they will come over and give them a treat. Heck, it even creeps me out! Any who…I got up this morning and went downstairs to check on my guest. They were standing by the front door, in their jammies, holding plates of food and coffee. They looked a bit ‘startled’. I asked what was wrong. They told me they fixed some eggs and toast went outside to eat, hoping to enjoy the beautiful morning, when Dunkay barreled through the gate and galloped straight towards their plates of food! They sat there frozen to the chairs not sure if they should give up their breakfast to the beast or grab everything and run! They chose the latter! They got up, held the plates high and quickly walked to the front porch. Dunkay knocked over a chair and broke a plate as these two elderly folks tried to get away! After he was done ‘wrecking havoc’ as she put it…he trotted to the front porch where they were trying to eat and demanded all the food…NOW! They ran back into the house, stood at the door, staring at it in disbelief. That’s where I came in. I assured them that he really is harmless, and coaxed them back to the kitchen. I tried to make a joke out of it, but they didn’t think it was funny. They just looked at me with a blank stare! I went outside looking for Mr Pain In the Butt. He was already back in the barn harassing the chickens. I swept up the shattered plate, picked up the chair and scolded Dunkay as he stood inside the barn with his head peeking around the corner cause he knows better! I don’t think these folks will be back.
My loving sister Laurie Arion suggested that I take Dunkay to the lake and let him swim in the cool water on this hot muggy day. At first I was like….RIIIIIIIGHT…taking Mr King Naughty to the lake. Then, I thought gosh, I wonder if we, I mean Super Farmer, could actually stuff him into the Jeep (it does have a sunroof that he can stick his head out of). Perhaps, drive him to Stone Lake where you can launch your boat (he might qualify as such) and besides, we could never take him to the beach as he’d be chasing all the kids who had ice cream cones, candy, pop, a sandwich, or blowing bubbles!
I can clearly see this is my over active imagination which would go something like this…
I’m in the front pasture watching our hot animals push each other out of the shade when this not so bright idea pops into my over heated mind. ‘Let’s take Dunkay to the lake so he can swim and cool off, after all, Barb takes her mini horse there to swim…so why cant we take our donkey!’
I jog over to Chad who is on his knees sweating over his precious flowers to tell him of this great plan of mine that involves a ton of work for him! I talk a mile minute so he only hears part of what I’m really trying to say, then quickly walk away thanking him for agreeing to yet another ill-conceived scheme!
Before all my words knit themselves together in his brain to make sense, I’m standing next to the Jeep with a smiling donkey who cant wait to go bye bye!
My now grumbling husband grudgingly grabs the reins out of my hands, opens the back end of the Jeep and tells Dunkay to get in. You dont have tell Mr King Naughty twice! Dunkay scrambles in, sticks his head out of the sunroof and let’s out a HEEEEE HAAAAAW that you can hear all the way to the lighthouse! Chad and I drive down Waverly road with our donkey sniffing the air as his ears flap behind him in the wind.
At the boat launch, we wait for the circling, pointing crowd to disperse interested in the grinning donkey sticking out of a red Jeep.
We get him out, walk him to the lake and say, “Go boy! Swim!” Dunkay looks at me, glances at Chad, then stares at the crystal blue lake with all the little minnows swimming around. I whisper to Chad, “I dont think he understands, you better go first and show him how to donkey paddle!” My wonderful hubby who hates sleeping in the dog house, stomps to the lake pulling the stubborn animal behind him. Chad gets in and floats on his back, reassuring Dunkay that it’s safe, warm, fun, refreshing and he can chase as many fish as he wants! (Not to self, never tell a donkey he can chase fish!)
Dunkay galloped into the water causing a tidal wave to roll over Chad making him sink. That donkey chased every thing that had fins until the sun went down! Of course, Chad looked like a water skier who forgot to let go of the tow rope after falling.
When near-drowned Chad finally surfaced, he coaxed the now soaked, seaweed wrapped animal out of the water and back into the Jeep. Dunkay cheerfully howled at the moon all the way home as Chad told me over and over how he is going to fix up the dog house and make it into a man cave because he will never let me fast talk him into another hair brained scheme again…ever!
That said, I have been thinking about Winter and how much fun it would be to take our not-so-mini pig sledding. Hmmmm.
So, I’m sitting here working on Ebay with no radio or TV on, enjoying the peace and quiet, the windows are open with a cool breeze gently blowing through. But Bob the turkey keeps gobbling. I’ve never heard him goggle so dang much. I decided to stop and listen, watching him through the window. He stands at the gate and just keeps goggling every couple of minutes. Then it dawned on me…the kids across the street are outside playing and like most kids, they feel the need to scream and play loud. Well, everytime one of the kiddos yells, Bob gobbles! So…my peaceful, quiet morning is now filled with screaming children as a large turkey gobbles at them. Our other turkey Gobble Gobble usually stands at the fence and barks at the neighbors when they’re outside, and now Bob gobbles every time he hears them playing. Really? I swear…only us!
So, I’m outside herding a few llamas around, lecturing the pig, throwing feed to the duck in a way that Remi can’t ‘pig’ it up. It’s a farm dance I do everyday…the pig runs one way, the duck waddles in the opposite direction with me doing a few fancy smancy side steps in the middle trying to delicately toss grain into the air past the pig before her non-stop vacuum gets wind that I’m trying to out smart her once more while hoping the duck gets a few bites before Remi whips around and demandingly stomps back towards us.
Then, my donkey spidey sense kicked in and I thought I better look around to see what Dunkay is getting into. Of course, my persistently naughty donkey never, ever, let’s me down! I saw him standing next to one of my freshly displayed 4th of July ribbons hanging out of his mouth! Yes, that’s right, he pulled part of it through the fence and was eating it! At first I was in denial because, I thought, he wouldn’t dare eat my ribbon! But nope, he was chewing away. By the time I got out there to do my best finger pointing scolding, he gulped most of it down.
He then looked past me, stopped chewing, squinted his already beady eyes, pawed the ground and pushed past me! I slapped my hand to my forehead saying to myself ‘oh no, not again’, because I realized that out of my frustration, I left the gate to freedom open! Dunkay took off like a speeding bullet and galloped to the gate! Yep, that’s right, you guessed it…I RAN with the donkey to the opening of freedom yelling out the only farm word they understand, but chose to ignore…”NOOOOOO”, as a red, white, and blue ribbon flapped out of the side of his mouth!
My only consolation prize is that I beat Dunkay to the gate and didn’t have to chase a patriotic donkey around our neighborhood, ribbon and all. Note the pics provided to prove that I dont make this stuff up!
I’m beginning to look like a walking scratching post, or like I was lost in the jungle for months and had to fight my way through thorny bushes, or had a cat fight with a mountain lion, or rolled down a hill with stickes!
Yep…THAT cat, Bitty Boy2. He wants to attack me when I’m sitting, walking, laying down, standing, washing dishes, watering my flowers, feeding the large or small animals, doing laundry, putting shoes on (he loooooooves shoe strings!), snuggling with Mr. Growly, reading, and posting pics. Ah, but the worst, he waits for me to get out of the shower and, if I forget to shut the door, that cat bats at me through the shower curtain, then I have to peak around the curtain to make sure he’s not there waiting to plant himself on my wet leg, thus making me slip!
THAT cat does his best sneak attacks when I’m watching TV because I never know from where he’s going to fly at me from! He could be behind or next to the chair, under the table, on top the mantle,the ceiling fan, poor Biscuit’s back, or from Chad tossing him towards me because he had enough of the cat trying to nurse on his whiskers. Where could he be? I find myself looking for glowing eyes staring at me.
Not to mention, my house usually sounds like a non stop horror film with cats screeching, doing their hair raising low growl at each other mixed in with the sound of an angry dog snapping his teeth together, or a woman screaming (me) from pain (tiny claws climbing up my leg), or a man’s voice loudly demanding that this horrible creature get away from him as he runs from room to room with a tiny fur ball of terror leaping at him, paws slicing through the air with its sharp claws protruding out and corresponding bells on his collar warning that soon there will be pain! Or, Biscuit hiding under blankets (never works, that cat knows which lumps are alive and which ones aren’t).
The only thing in this house that is left alone is Chippie! Our 7lbs of snapping teeth refuses to tolerate cats, or other dogs, or humans, actually, anything that breathes or moves! I swear this cat has Golden King’s (Bitty Boy1) ‘I must attack’ instinct wrapped tightly around his!
The only words I hear coming out of my mouth since he got here is, “STOP IT! NO! GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!” Good gosh Martha, I can’t wait for him to outgrow his wild teenage cat years! Now, to get out the door with out new battle scars.
My heart is heavy tonight. Our little Sugar Baby went home to be with Jesus today. I know he was just a goat, but us farmers love our animal’s, that’s why we have farms…so we can pack a barn or two with lots of furry and feathered critters. Sugar was with us for a few short months and was barley a year old. Doc Smith thought that because of this wacky weather, he got a lung infection. The cold and rain yesterday did him in. He couldn’t fight it.
Chad and I both enjoyed this little guy. He loved Sweetie the llama and followed her around like a love struck teenager. He enjoyed being in the house checking out the humans habitat and sat with Chad and me on the swing. He had a sweet personality and gave me fun stories to write about. I always told Chad that if we were forced to move, I would take Sammie, Lincoln and Sugar Baby…I wouldn’t give those three up.
I don’t understand why God wanted our little goat to go home to be with Him. It is not mine to question His ways. I only see a little bit of today, God sees tomorrow and all my days. He knew how much I loved my Sugar and knew the pain that we would experience with his passing. I trust God. He gave me my baby goat and I gave him back through tears. I’ve been thanking the Lord today for the gift that I handed over to Him.
I will praise Him in this storm through tears and a broken heart because I serve an awesome, faithful, loving God.
A lazy, warm Tuesday morning. I’m so relaxed sitting in my comfy chair, sipping my Irish cream coffee. I’m looking out the window watching the birds jump from branch to branch. I can hear the birdies chirping, the breeze stirring the leaves….the dogs snoring. Oh what a wonderful morning….that is until I decided to get up and see what the naughties were doing in the pasture. My coffee is now spilled in the sink, the birds have flown into another tree in fear because I am now yelling out the window at Dunkay and Laci who are squaring off with the llamas for their part of the lush, green grass on the llama side of the field. It’s like watching an old movie where the greasers meet up with the ‘wanderers’. They line up, stare each other down, there’s a huff and a puff, hooves pounding the ground, a head shake, ears back, eyes squinted and tails swishing back and forth in agitation! And while they are doing their, “yes I am, no your not”… The goats have snuck past and are munching away at the llamas protected grassy gold!!! I give up, they are not listening (oh what a surprise!) this is a job for Super Farmer! He can go out there with his silver police whistle and break up the gang fight.
Another ‘fun’ memory that popped up from 3yrs ago
Someone came to the sale today with their adorable little dog Bella. She follows us on Facebook and asked why I didn’t have Chippie with us. I kinda joked about it, but then realized she was serious.
So I thought to myself, what would it be like if we had Chippie with us all day? Hummmmm 🤔
This is how I think our day would go if Chippie the easy going, gentle, super friendly, 7lbs of growling teeth was with me.
I get up at the crack of dawn because I have to, because I have an annoying rooster named C.S.(short for chicken soup) practicing to be the next superstar on American Idol. I get my tiny growling fur baby out of his bed, practically run to the door back holding him at arms length, and throw him outside (if I dont, I’ll get teeny dent mark’s in my hands) and shut the door with a sigh of relief that I made it without harm.
Then for some odd, weird, strange, I dont know why, bizarre, overwhelming feeling invades my usually normal thinking with, ‘gosh, it would be fun to take Chippie today to get him out of the house!’
Before my reasoning comes back, I grab my Jeep keys, Lil Red, and my snarling bundle to go work around a bunch of people…you know humans…the kind Chippie barely tolerates! So I put my little bundle of joy who hates car rides almost as much as everything else in life, on my lap and off we go. The Chipster wants to hide between my feet and I try to get him to enjoy being a real dog by you know…sticking your head out the window to let the breeze flap your ears as you sniff all the wonderful outside smells that isn’t llama or pig!
I finally make it to the sale without getting into an accident because he wants to play ring around the rosey with the pedals, or losing him out the window. I carry my now extremely grumpy chihuahua past the crowd elbowing each other away from the door so they can be the very first ones in to grab, grab, grab. Many of these folks want to pet Mr Teeth but he wants nothing to do with strangers touching him and he growls making everyone step back in unison.
I get situated with the pup under my shirt (because that’s what Chippie wants, and Chippie gets what Chippie wants!) making me look lumpy and a bit on the unusual side. All customers who come up to pay for their treasures, either do the sign of the cross because they think I’m growing at them without moving my mouth, or throw money at me because my shirt is trying to bite them!
Yep, it’ll be a day of growling, snapping, scaring customers, and me forcing Chad to carry Chippie around as he makes deals with people holding his snarling, intimidating, all teeth chihuahua…which by the way, really does help because folks are terrified of making the tiny dog mad by not agreeing with the price.