The Lumberjack's Wife

Seven years ago today, I wrote a post called Hating Cats for Three Days.    At that time, Mama kitty had baby kittens in the hay barn.  The kids and I enjoyed visiting them.

The kittens had gone missing.  This was back in the day when I would have never even entertained the idea of having indoor kittens.

Handsome Dude was 6 years old at the time.  Earlier that year, we had gotten a kitten and HD loved him and named him Peter.

Peter died and we didn’t know why.  Which was strangely out of character for us.  To not know.

Later on, we had gotten Mama Kitty.  Yes, the same Mama Kitty we have at our house to this very day.  Mama had kittens in the hay barn and it was very exciting for us all.  But two of the kittens had gone missing.

One night at dinner, David announced that he was moving some hay around and found two dead kittens.  At this news, 6 year old HD ran downstairs and refused to talk to anyone but me.

Here was our conversation:

Be advised: HD was six, was missing teeth, and was super hard to understand back then.

HD:  Mom.  *sob* I fink *sob* we need to sell all the cats on our property.  I don’t want them anymore.

Me:  Buddy, you love the cats.  You don’t want to sell them.

HD:  Yes, I do.  *sob*  First Peter dies, and now the two baby kitties.  That’s FREE (three) dead cats.

Me:  I know.

HD:  Since there are free (three) dead cats, I am going to hate all cats for free (three) days.

Me:  You are not making any sense.

HD:  I will hate cats for three days.

Me:  Ok.

Well.

I want to run on my bed and throw a fit now and have someone comfort me.  Because my heart is sad and I know feel as if I am going through exactly what HD was going through exactly 7 years ago today.

I want to hate all dogs for three days.  And make it all go away. I want to not be emotionally tied up in this and make a sane, logical decision.  But, I cannot.

Probably within an hour of my post last night, in which I shamelessly boasted about the gal dogs going six days without a fight . . . they got in a fight.

Things had been going well.  I had shock collars on both of them and would warn them if they were growling or acting moody.  The boys wanted Abbie to hang with them in the loft, and I had Charlie with me in my room with the door closed.  I had asked Hadley to get the boys because we needed to have a talk about the plans for tomorrow.

LD forgot to close the door and Abbie came into my room.  The gal dogs seem to now fight over dominance and space issues.  I am not sure, but they got in a fight and it was a doozy.  David was not yet home, so this kids and I tried to get them apart for what seemed like an eternity.   Hadley  and I ended up having to drive Charlie to the emergency vet clinic.  We were there for a couple of hours and then it was decided that we would leave her overnight and I would pick her up in the morning.  I was able to rework my schedule so I could drive her home today and then teach from home.

Poor, poor, poor Charlie.  She was wounded and sad.  When I walked in this morning, she was tucked away in the back, but apparently she could hear me talking and she started this new whine/howl.  It made my feelers sad.

I loaded her and we made the trek home.  I got home and set her up on the couch.

And I taught my kids and she hung out and recovered.

I was dreading writing this post.  I knew what the next chapter of my story would be, and I did not want to write it.  But, I cannot change it.  It is what it is.

David wants to get rid of Abbie.  He has reasons, and they make sense. He is probably right.  I just cannot.  To me, she was born to be our dog, to live here with us.

I love her.

And isn’t weird how attached we get to these animals?  And then I get frustrated with myself because there are so many worse things in life that  could be happening to me.

It just hurts so much.

I went on a walk on my lunch break to check on the cows.  For the time since Tank died, I had a good cry.  A real, good, hard cry.

I have no idea what to do.  I really do not.  It is not easy, but messy and horrible.  All six of us love both dogs and this will be a very hard decision for us all.

Me:  David!  Go to the library and check out every book on dog training you can find.

David:  Got it.

Later.

David:  Due to covid, I cannot go in the library.

Me:  Dang!

Later.

Me:  David!  Can you buy a muzzle?

David:  Yes.

Abbie got out of her muzzle within two minutes, I kid you not.

Me:  David!  We need to buy a basket muzzle.  Off the Amazon.

David:  Ok.

I have a lot of hope in this basket muzzle.

This is all just so perplexing to me.  They have lived together for almost a year.  What is going on?  What has changed?

We just want to do what is best.

LD, when I picked him up from school today: Ma!  How many days are there in November?

Me:  Thirty days have September, April, June, and NOVEMBER.

HD:   That’s great.  I should learn that.

Me:  I have taught it to you.

LD: That means tomorrow is December 1st.  We are going to Costco!

Me:  Nope.

HD:  Mom!  We have NO FOOD.  This is so unfair.

Me:  Bummer.  Maybe you shouldn’t eat everything ten minutes after I bring it home.

Look at me with my mean mom pants on!

***

Our farrier friend came over yesterday.  And I say “farrier friend” because he is our farrier, but more so our friend.  And do you know what a farrier is, Reader? Because I didn’t until we had horses.  A farrier is someone who comes to take care of your horses’ feet, as if horses could not be more high maintenance.

He is at least 25 years David’s senior, but I do believe they are bff.

Even though I have been nagging encouraging David to get rid of the horses for some time, he has finally decided to listen to me.

Stand down, Reader!  It is not like I hate horses.

Neigh Nay. (Yes, I know.  That was dumb) I just don’t like when the horses bully up on my newborn calves.  As they do.  And we have no need for horses.  No one here wants to ride them.  Sure, the kids THOUGHT they wanted to ride them, but that proved to be a complete and total lie.  So why keep two large creatures who only eat, poop, and bully precious calves? I ask you?

So, for reasons unbeknownst to all mankind, a fire has been lit under David’s toosh and now he is rehoming the horses.  He called our friend/farrier over to come and take care of the feet, and of course, bond.  Because, bff.

I do not know if farrier/friend wants to be mentioned in this blog.  So we will call him FF.

FF came and took care of Chico and Ruby’s feet.  And offered advice on the horses.  Chico originally came from FF as a gift to the boys, and he will just take him back home.  Ruby has some weird issues and should not be ridden, but she will be good for breeding.

When David relayed this news to me, I panicked.

Oh, yes.

Panicked.

Because did that mean we were going into the horse breeding business?

But then, Reader, I thought of my calves.  And the calves are precious and gifts from heaven.  So maybe foals will also knock my socks off?

But David does not want to breed Ruby.  He has found a loving home for her instead.  The horses will leave in the next few weeks.

About 2 years after I suggested it.

While FF was there, he assisted in the castration of two bull calves.  Hadley and I were out there with them.

They decided to castrate the bull calf that was just born.  FF is apparently a cowboy in real life, so he was just able to rope the calf and throw him to the ground.

Mama Cow did not like this one bit.  Oh, no she did not.  There was spit and snot coming out of her mouth, and she was stamping and mooing, and generally trying to communicate with us that she did not appreciate anyone roping her new baby boy and throwing him on the ground.

FF  and David were on the ground with the baby.  Mama charged at them.  I panicked and wondered how I would go on as a widow.

FF looked at the cow, stuck out his elbow and shouted, “Oh, just go!”

Wanna hear something crazy?

She did.  She just . . . went.

Then FF looked at Hadley and I and shouted for us to go and wave our arms and keep her away.

And.

It totally worked.  We just stood and waved our arms.  Oh, she was perturbed, but apparently when she sees a human waving arms, she knows she must chill.

She still wanted to kill us dead.  But she took note of the waving arms and backed off.

Next, we asked FF to give his opinion on our cow, Maisy.  David and I feel like she will birth any minute:

FF:  She doesn’t look pregnant to me.  But you never know!

I would like to take this moment to remind you that David and I, clearly, have NO IDEA what’s going on.  Ever.  The End.

***

Our dishwasher broke.  David pulled it out to try to repair it, and in doing so, damaged the counter tops.

The dishwasher is still broke.  Our microwave broke months ago.  We now need new countertops.

And Maisy isn’t even with child.

Life.  Not cheap.

***

Oh, and not to be boastful or anything, but . . .

Happy Monday!

Today, I was making my own cow Christmas ornaments.  As if you could expect anything else from me these days.  Anyways, I was “crafting”, and I use the term “crafting, quite loosely,  and LD yelled from upstairs,

“Ma!  Burrito!”

Me:  What?

LD:  Burrito!

Me:  What?

LD:  For lunch!  I want a burrito!

Me:  Oh.  Can you try asking nicer?

LD:  Can I please have a burrito for my lunch?  Thankssssss.

So, I made him two burritos.  Because I know him.  Also, he really likes when I make burritos for him.  He apparently can’t “fold them” as beautiful as I do.

David:  That kid is going to be thirty years old, living in our basement, and you will still be making him burritos for lunch.

After he ate his two burritos, he scarfed down two mini banana bread loaves.  Have I told you about the mini banana bread loaves, Reader?  I oft make them for my children.  They are a hit and a half.

You prepare your favorite banana bread recipe.  You NEVER add nuts, but you do add chocolate chips.

Instead of making it in a normal loaf pan, you divide the batter out into a mini loaf pan.

If I made normal banana bread, my kids would not eat it.

But if I make mini loaves-

They rise and call me blessed.

So he ate two burritos and two mini loaves and then a bit later I heard the air fryer going.

Me:  What is going on?

LD:  I am making dino-nugs!

Dino-nugs are the chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs.  I buy the gigantor box at Costco.

Me:  Why?!

LD:  I am just so starving.

You should see me walk through Costco, or any grocery store for that matter.  I just try and find as much food as I can for as great a bargain as I can to sustain these ravenous beasts.  I now place limits on things, because apparently I am THAT kind of a mom now.

LD:  Ma!  We’re out of dino-nugs! When are you going to Costco again?

Me: I told you when I bought this box that I would not be buying another box until after December 1st.

***

I trust you all had a nice Thanksgiving, no?  Due to the novel coronavirus, we stayed home and did not go visit any family or kin.

It was weird, but nice.

We let the kids sleep in and David and I had a morning cup of coffee in the hot tub whilst admiring our herd.

Then David took the kids out to the back forty for a fun group activity called, “Pick up sticks and put them in a burn pile.”

I was on house cleaning, laundry, and food prep.

Then I tried to get everyone to watch a movie together, but that proved to be a disaster.  The boys were super annoying so I told them to just go elsewhere.  They cheered and left.  So, the girls and David and I started to watch a movie.  David put his arm around me, causing Hadley to jump up, shout,

“If you two are going to be doing THAT, then I am leaving!”

So, just David, Kate and I were left to watch the movie.  And we all three fell asleep.  Together.  On the bed.

I then realized that this was technically Kate’s “last” Thanksgiving at home.  Because she is a senior.  And I started to feel sad, but then I stopped feeling sad because it is not her “last” Thanksgiving with us.  Things might look different next year, but she’ll still be our kid.  You know?  It will all be ok.

After our nap, we had another cup of coffee, then David and I took Charlie and Abbie on a walk to explore the new land we purchased next to ours.

The girls did not fight at all and had a lovely time on their walk, finding several bones and sniffing various piles of poo.  It was a Thanksgiving miracle!

We finished up our walk by checking on all the cows and calves before going in for the night.

I found the newest calf all alone.

At that moment I knew all I wanted for Thanksgiving was to pat that little guy on the head.

It was the best.  Very fuzzy.  Very pleasant.

We came back inside and got out of our farm and ranch gear, trying to look a bit more civilized for Thanksgiving. Kate snapped this picture of me and Rio.

I love that kitten.

Reader.  Please take notice of my earrings.  Kate bought them for me.  For no reason.

Just because.

Are you wondering why I am not slaving away in the kitchen cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving?

It is because I didn’t cook a turkey for Thanksgiving.

#genius

I made an easy family favorite:  Slow cooker beef stroganoff with mashed potatoes, salad, and rolls.

We played Telestrations and had a family arm wrestling contest.  The only person I can beat is Kate.

Weakest:  Kate

Strongest:  David

The kids went in the hot tub and blasted music.  No neighbors cared and I don’t think the cows minded.  David and I had pumpkin pie and went to bed.

***

Today, I went to check on the cows.  David was gone.  He had to butcher a steer today and take it to town.

Me:  Ok, maybe I will see you around two?

David:  Oh, I hope to be home well before then.

Reader.  It is 4pm and he is not yet home.

Oh!  I found the Sectional Couch of Dreams on Craigslist, so I texted David to ask if he could please go and buy it on his way home.

David:  Well, I don’t really care, but I am covered in blood.

Me:  So, is that a no?

Sectional of Dreams was already sold, so a blood-soaked David did not terrify poor, unsuspecting city folk.

ANYWAYS.  I was on a walk, and I was in some work type clothes and I decided when I got back, I would freshen up a bit and make myself more presentable for my husband’s return.

And then I totally fell and got mud all over myself.  So, I am in sweatpants and slippers.

One of my top two favorite cows, Babs, lost her ear tag, so I am having trouble identifying which one she is.  Today on my walk, I just tried to approach cows to see if they would allow me to pet them.

Reader.  Babs is the only cow who will permit us to pet her.

Reader.  I found her.

I like her.

Check out the mud.  Can you understand why I peeled my pants off and just threw on sweatpants?

And here are the two babies.  Alive and well.

On the left is the bull calf who was born to the newer cow.  On the right is Babs’s heifer calf.

When I walk and check on my cows, I take the same route.  When I get to our fence, I turn right and go up the hill towards the house.

On the other side is the new land we just bought.  I asked David if he could put a gate there someday soon.  So I can continue my walk and make a loop.

AND HE SAID YES.

***

The whole family has committed to Team Keep Both Girl Dogs.  I am very impressed with everyone’s cooperation and focus.

We are vigilant!

We have plans in place!

We love them both!

Because I find myself to be hilarious, I created this motivational sign to help us press on towards our goal.

Me:  Look, everyone!  It says “Four Days without Incident.”  We can change the number each day!

The kids don’t find me as entertaining as I wish they did.

***

Pop Quiz:

If you found your husband’s steer butchering pants in the laundry, covered in blood and other mystery substances, how many times would you run them through the washing machine on the “Sanitize with Oxi” setting?

Three.  The correct answer is three.

David went to an auction last week and bought one steer and three bred cows.  He was told the cows would calve in February/March.

One of them calved yesterday.

She literally has the number 6 spray painted on her side, meaning she is six months along.

David was headed back to auction yesterday to sell Hildy and Purple Cow Number 8.  Those poor gals were determined to be the weakest links, so off to market they went.  LD also took his lamb.

David asked if I could check on the new calf while he was away.  I took Abbie with me and Charlie stayed behind in the house with Hadley.

We found the calf, but the mama was getting anxious around Abbie, so I told Abbie to “go.”  Abbie is a good listener around the cows, so off she went.  After I checked on the cow, I noticed Abbie was nowhere to be found.  Abbie knows how to open the front door of our house, so I was worried about Abbie coming in and being near Charlie and the two gals starting up a fight again.  I texted Hadley to warn her and started back towards the house.

As I was making my way back, I could hear Hadley yelling.  We have one shock collar and it was on Abbie and since I had Abbie with me, I had the remote.  I started running and found the two gals in my bedroom in another horrific fight with Hadley desperately trying to stop it.  I started to shock Abbie, and I could tell it was working on her, but it did nothing to stop Charlie.  Anyways.  It was terrible and awful and the dogs have new minor wounds and Hadley also got bit.

According to Hadley, as soon as I texted her, she had gotten up to lock Charlie up, but Abbie opened the door.  Abbie went into our room and Charlie followed her.  Abbie likes her personal space and probably growled at Charlie and then Charlie wasn’t having it, and so brawl started.

I called David and then Hadley and I had a talk and we have decided to try one more thing before we rehome.  David thinks we need to just rehome, and he is probably right.  But we decided to purchase a second shock collar.  That was the advice I had gotten from a vet.  He said two shock collars and a shovel.

Me:  A shovel?

Vet:  A metal shovel.

Me:  What do I do with that?

Vet:  Smack them on the back.  I know it sounds awful, but it is better than one of them ending up in major surgery.

Me:  Ok.

Vet:  And get two high powered shock collars.  And if that doesn’t work, rehome.

So, Hadley and I went all about the town and found an additional shock collar.  And we are all on HIGH STRESS ALERT and kenneling one dog at a time and only letting them out when people are ready to referee, armed with a shocker.  Apparently it can take up to thirty days for the hormones to all calm down after Charlie’s spaying, so we are hopeful that time and some training will help them be friends again.

It is just plain old sad.  They were fine before.

Here was a picture of them camping with us in October:

There is no way they can be that close to each other right now.

We have gotten them to lay in the same room with a human between them.  They refuse to look each other in the eye.

Abbie and I went again to check on the cows today.  I decided to try and teach her to stay and wait for me when I was getting close to the cows.  She did well with that and listened, so we didn’t have a repeat of yesterday.

Here are some photos.  For your viewing pleasure.

That’s Unnamed Six Month Along Bred Cow.  Who was clearly farther along than six months.  Her baby is laying down to the middle/left.  I didn’t want to get too close, but I really wanted to pat its head.

Reader.  If you ever get a chance to pat a new calf on the head, I strongly encourage you to do so.

David also asked if I could keep an eye on Maisy.  We have been waiting for Maisy to calve since FEBRUARY.  But she looks pretty big.  Although, who are we kidding?  She is a cow.  She is always big. Here’s a picture of her from behind.

Thoughts?

Also.  I am thankful no one sneaks up behind me whilst I am unawares and snaps a photo of my back end.

I checked on Babs’ new heifer calf.  She is looking good and cute.  Babs was nowhere to be seen.

Looks like she got our new bull, Ep, to babysit.  Ep is not the father. Waylon was her father.  But he is currently leftover taco meat in my fridge.  Bummer.

Ep:  I shall raise her as my own.

The mama cows/calves who are going through the weaning process will just not let it go already.

Day and night, they stand at the fence and moo for each other.

It is moo-ey depressing.

(Did you see what I did there?)

Me:  David.  FOR THE LOVE.  Just let them be together.  What do you care?

David:  Taylor.  The cows are pregnant and need extra calories to put on weight for their new calves.  They cannot afford to also be losing calories while nursing calves that don’t need to be nursed anymore.

He had a point.  And that shut me right up.  I hadn’t thought about the NEW calves growing in the cow bellies.

Let the weaning process continue!

And, finally, let us discuss cats.  The cats are scoring all the points right now because they have never tried to cause severe bodily harm to each other.  And I appreciate that quality in a pet.

We have Mama and Rio, who are best friends, but really grandma and granddaughter.  For reasons unbeknownst to me, they have decided to ostracize Norma Jean Riley, who is Mama’s daughter and Rio’s mother.  They will have nothing to do with her.

It is like an episode of Jerry Springer:  Cat Edition over here.

Norma has to hang out with her one remaining kitten.  This kitten has a home, but we were asked to care for it for a few more days.  Norma and I are both over this kitten, who I refuse to name and I am too lazy to look at its privacy areas to determine the gender.

I just call it, “The Dang Kitten.”

Would you like to know what The Dang Kitten does ALL DAY?

Climbs up and down my tree.  And destroys it.

I do believe this entire post, much like all my posts, was completely about my animal friends.  Which seems normal.

I wish Taylor Today could visit Taylor of Yesteryear.

Taylor of Yesteryear:  I don’t know why I am writing in this blog.  I won’t have anything to write about once my boys are out of this crazy toddler stage.

Taylor of Today:  Don’t worry, young Taylor.  You will create your own imaginary world filled with dogs and cats and cows and all their doings and goings-on.  It will be completely normal!

Happy Wednesday.

Last night, we had David’s parents over for dinner.  We played the game Telestrations.  Have you played this game?  It is like a fun combo of Pictionary and Telephone.

You get a secret word and you draw it on a dry erase tablet.   You pass your drawing to the next person.  They write down on the next page their guess and pass it to the next person.  That person uses that word as their “clue” and draws it and so on.  When you get your drawing back, it is fun to see what happened with it.

One was “sleeping bag.”  It went around the whole circle correctly until it got to Handsome Dude.

I drew a picture of a tent with a camper sleeping in a sleeping bag.  I added a helpful arrow to the sleeping bag. Then I handed it off to HD.

HD’s guess?

Tectonic Plates.

But I was impressed that he knew what tectonic plates were and he spelled it correctly.

At one point, Grandpa drew a card and announced this game was X-RATED.

Hadley:  Well, you don’t have to draw anything X-RATED.

Turns out he had “skinny dipping.”  And turns out he drew a female stick figure with, *ahem*, certain anatomical features.

Hadley: GGGGRRRRAAAANNNNDDDDDPPPPAAAA!!!

Grandpa:  What?  I told you this game was inappropriate.

***

The cats ruined my couch.  With their claws.

I fixed it with scissors and a razor.

I am proud of me.

***

David came inside yesterday and asked me if I could please come out and help sort cows.  And, no I don’t mind, but I was so way busy preparing food and getting ready for company and when we had our husband/wife team meeting that morning, there was no mention of sorting cows.

But I go out there, because, I don’t mind, but things were not going well, seeing as how the cows did not want to listen to us.  We were trying to get all the calves and two cows sorted off the herd.  The calves (except Bab’s new one) all need to be weaned.  Hildy and another cow are going to be sold at auction.

We were trying to help and I fell in the mud and hurt my arm so way bad on a cattle panel.

Reader.  David laughed at me.

Reader.  I did not like that.

And I have a wicked bad bruise on my arm and he seems to think it is no big deal.

And sadly, the cows and calves were not fans of David’s decision to wean them.  They have been sorrowfully mooing for each other all night and all day.  It is a good thing I have a deaf ear, or else I would not have been able to sleep a wink last night.

Grandpa:  Why is David taking that cow to auction?

Me (sadly):  Because her calf died.

Grandpa (beaming with pride):  Right.  And it doesn’t make sense to pay for a cow that is not performing for you.

This is where David gets it, apparently.

It is in his blood.

***

The dogs.

The dog saga continues.

On Friday night, I returned home from taking Charlie to the vet for her wounded eye.  Then I had to clean out my car and finish up parent teacher conferences.

And then.  I was petting Abbie and she yelped a horrendous yelp and I found an abscessed wound on what I can only think to call her “armpit.”

Do dogs have armpits?  Sure.

So, I took her to the vet on Saturday and the poor dear has a serious wound and her own set of meds.  I got some advice from the doctor, but these gals currently hate each other.  If they go near each other they growl and I am worried we won’t be able to turn this around and one will have to be rehomed.  If you remember, Charlie was given to Hadley as a Christmas present last year.

Me:  Hadley.  We might have to give one of them up.

Hadley:  I know.  And I know who it needs to be.

Me:  Who?

Hadley:  Charlie.  I don’t want her to go, but Abbie was here first.  And she loves Dad too much.  And our farm.  If Abbie left, she wouldn’t be ok.  Charlie would probably be ok.  I think  it would break Abbie if she had leave.  She couldn’t live anywhere else.

This morning I left bright and early to take Charlie to the vet to get spayed.

It was a beautiful morning and no mystery fluids came out of Charlie.

Later this afternoon, Hadley and I went to go and pick her up.  She was precious and sweet and looked at us like we were the meanest humans in the world to make her endure what she had to endure that day.

We got some egg nog lattes for the ride home and had a pep talk with Charlie about how we loved her and she needed to not fight with her big sis anymore.

Charlie is currently resting comfortably.

We love her.  We want to keep her.

The End.

Well.  Today was a day.

I was working from home, doing parent teacher conferences via the Zoom.

David had left the boys a chore list, and the chore list was above my pay grade, per usual.

LD is on a hay bale.  Cutting string?  I think?  And HD is in the way back on the Bobcat putting hay in the feeders.  And please take a moment to be impressed with our mud.

It’s real good mud.  Really muddy.

All day long, they fight and tell me the Bobcat is broke down and blah blah blah, life is not fair, and I am just trying to Zoom with other humans. It is super fun.

The girls are far away playing basketball in a basketball tournament, if you must know.  They are never around anymore, and that is super sad.  Because we like them and now I am outnumbered.

Oh!  I got a new thing for my arrow sign!  Do you remember the arrow sign?

Well, look what I did!

It is now a snowflake.  For WINTER.

You know what I have learned about cats?

They like to destroy Christmas trees! I truly believe my feline friends feel like I have placed a tree in my home solely for their amusement.

I sent this picture to Sister Meagan.  For she loves Rio almost as much as I do.

Sister Meagan:  Cute!  Did she get in that position on her own?

Me:  Yeah.  I don’t have time to stage the cats.

The astute reader might remember that Charlie and Abbie got into a fight yesterday morning.  We are on a strict kenneling system for now and only allow one dog out at a time.  I noticed that Charlie’s “minor” head wound from yesterday was much worse today.  It was swelling and pretty much disgusting.

I took her to the vet.  The last animal I brought to this vet was Tiny Tim.  Do you remember Tiny Tim?

And how ridiculous to these vet people think I am?

Yes, I am here to check in Norma Jean Riley Maliblahblah.  The cat.

Yes, I am here to check in Tiny Tim Maliblahblah.  The angus bull calf.

Once upon a time, I transported a sickly calf to the vet.  In the back of my car.

Anyways, I got to the vet today, and they were confused thinking I was bringing Tiny Tim my angus bull calf.  But he died, like, forever ago, because have you read my blog?  It is nothing but death and misery over here.

Anyways, this is how Charlie left the back of my car today.

Is it puke?  Is it poo?  Is it blood?  Is it normal?

We cannot be certain.  But we can ascertain that taking an angus bull calf to the vet is more sanitary than taking a puppy in a kennel to the vet.

Charlie got cleaned up and put on meds.  David was perturbed at the vet bill.

But what can you do?

I stopped at a thrift store and bought a cheapie blanket to put Charlie in for the ride home.

She was cozy.

And then she threw up.

Happy Friday.

I have been dabbling a bit with Christmas decor over the past couple of days, but today I put up my tree AND listened to Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You,” so I guess you could say things are getting pretty serious.

You may say, “Taylor!  It is not even Thanksgiving yet!”

And I will say, “I KNOW.”

Connie Jo is either proud of me, or dying to come over and fix it. Time will tell.

***

Because I am now able to work from home upon occasion, my communication with my animals is through the roof.

They might be my best friends.  And I am ok with that.

Me:  Look at you!  The cat family!  All snuggly!  And I love you!

Cats:

***

Charlie and Abbie got into another fight this morning.  Just the kids and I were home, and it was horrible and awful.  We are fairly certain Charlie is the instigator and she is raging with hormones from being in heat.  After the fight ended and we had everyone secured, we all kind of stood in the living room and stared.

Me to Kate:  Man. And you thought YOUR periods were bad.

We shared a chuckle.

But in all seriousness, this must stop.  Charlie is getting fixed on Monday.  I am very hopeful this is the solution, as I do not want to say goodbye to either dog.

***

Ever since they were little, the boys have gotten the girls confused.  Either that, or they were too lazy to actually learn their names.

So.  The boys refer to their sisters each as “Kay-Hadley.”  It was cute when they were in preschool, but now it is just ridiculous.

“Kay-Hadley is so rude to me.”

It drives the girls up the wall.

Hadley:  Look at me.  Look at my face.  I.  AM.  HADLEY.

HD:  Gosh.  Child Abuse.

Happy Thursday

Saying goodbye to Tank was so hard for us.  I appreciate all the comments and well-wishes.  For the past year or two, I have been patting him and saying ridiculous things to him, such as:

“We were so lucky to have found you.”

“Thank you for being our Tank.”

“How lucky were we?”

And like a fool, I hoped he understood. He was the epitome of the faithful dog.  He loved us and we loved him.  I will forever miss coming home to him, as he would show excitement and energy, which was rare for him.  My heart still hurts.  I remember saying goodbye to Mabel ten years ago, and it was the worst thing ever.  Aren’t dogs simply the best?  We are lucky to have them.

So.  I went from four dogs to two dogs in about two months.  Abbie and Charlie are well-loved, but currently want to murder each other.  We discovered Charlie is in heat. She is not yet fixed.  We are hopeful that is the issue and our gal pals can continue to live happily with us for many years to come.

And David’s brother, Alex, is over the moon happy to be reunited with Cali.  He keeps texting us pictures and saying thank you.  I am happy we were able to help him out.  Even though it was for TWO AND A HALF YEARS.

Not that I was keeping track.

***

On Sunday, I was so so so so so sad.  I decided to take a walk and was cheered by my beautiful cows and blue skies.

I was feeling all blessed and happy until I happened upon the remains of my sweet calf friend who died on Friday.

Woe unto me, Friends.

Woe.

Unto.

Me.

Attention David: If you tell the boys to put the calf on a burn pile, please BURN the pile.

Thank you.

***

Teen Driving Story #2

I was driving with teen.  The speed limit was 50.  She was probably going around 60.  We were approaching a curve and a downhill grade that suggested we lower our speed to 35. We were coming in hot, and I was feeling frantic.

However.

I was trying to be cool and collected and trust that “teen” would slow down.

Alas.  She did not.

Me:  Why aren’t you slowing down?

Teen (calmly):  Mother. I am not accelerating.  The car will naturally slow itself down.  Science.

Me (no longer calm, slamming my hands on my thighs):  WE. ARE. GOING. DOWN. A. HILL.

Needless to say, the car did not, and I quote, “naturally slow itself down.”

***

Hildy.

Some inquired as to why Hildy would have to be sold and/or butchered, simply because her calf died.

Allow me to tell you The Tale of Hildy:

David purchased Hildy as a bred cow in the fall of 2018.  In the spring of 2019 she calved a heifer calf.

Poor little heifer calf lived about two months and then died.

We don’t know why.

Spoiler alert:We do not really know what we are doing over here.

Around Labor Day of 2019, Hildy suffered a medical issue, and I, yes, I,Taylor Maliblahblah saved her.  Because I am one with the cows.  And also, I hope my husband reads this someday and appreciates me all the more.

Hildy was on her back and stuck in a slope on our property. I called a vet and heeded his instructions.  Although the vet said she was pretty much going to die.

David was away at camp.  Jason was about to join David at camp.

Remember Jason?

Jason relayed an important message to David.  David left camp and called me.  I imparted wisdom on him and Hildy was saved.

Hildy should have calved this spring.  We don’t know why she calved this November. It could have been Waylon’s fault?  It could have been her fault?

Who knows.

But David is not interested in paying to feed cows who are not profitable to him.  And since I already claimed Matilda and Babs as my cows who will never be slaughtered, I have no leg to stand on.

This life I lead is full of sadness. Friends.

Misery and Sorrow.

***

Mother came over.  She fixed my Christmas decor.  Which is all I ever wanted in life:  someone ELSE to decorate for me.

***

Kate and Auggie made everyone homemade pizza and it was LITERALLY the best pizza ever.

I hope I get to eat it again soon.

***

Something is wrong with my back/side area.  I told Mother.  She told me I had flank pain.

Reader.  I did not know I had a flank. For I am not a cow.

Mother insists it is flank pain.

Is this what it means to be 39?

Farewell.