The Lumberjack's Wife

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.

Yesterday morning, Norma Jean Riley was trying to come and snuggle with me.  As she was making her way towards me, her  kittens launched a sneak attack and would not let her pass.

One is nursing on her.  You cannot see it, as they are the same color. The others are play fighting in front of her.  I would have offered her a glass of wine if I could have.  She is over it.  I took two of the kittens to their new homes  yesterday.  She has two left.  And she is still over it.

***

Today is bleak.  Bleak and sad.  And it is just the worst.

Last night, Hadley woke me up to tell me something was wrong with Tank.  Tank is our old dog.  He is 12 1/2.  Hadley heard him crash in the laundry room and when we got in there, he was down and unable to stand.  Hadley and I carried Tank to the carpet, which was not easy.

Reader.  He was so sad and hurting.  He was whimpering and he never whimpers.  He wanted to go to bed in our room, but he could not walk, so he used his front two legs to scoot himself to our room.  I gave him some pain medicine and water.  He cried off and on throughout the night and could not stand up in the morning.

This morning was rough.  We had to have a family meeting about what to do.  The poor boys didn’t even have time to digest the news before David told them they were in charge of digging a hole.  Kate and Hadley were in charge of comfort control.  They fed him yummy treats and gave him some medicine.  LD and I went outside to pick his burial spot.  Kate chose one of her favorite blankets to bury him with.

My kids are no strangers to animals dying, but this one hurt, Friends.

We found Tank and his sister, Miley, in February of 2012.  Their owners were needing to rehome them.  They were the same age as LD, so almost four at the time.

From left to right:

Hadley, Tank, Kate, and Miley.

Miley died in a camping accident that summer, which was, of course, extremely sad and terrible.  Tank has been a solid part of the family ever since.  He was extremely lazy and chill, which I appreciated.  He loved the homeschooling years.  He would go down to the homeschooling room with us and was LD’s reading “pillow” every day.  He joined us on walks and adventures around our property, and for several camping trips.

Here’s a fantastic photo of Tank and LD taking a summer run.  Yes, LD is in swim trunks.  They were six years old here.

He was just a great dog.  We all loved him and felt lucky to have gotten to take him in to our family eight years ago.

When Abbie came along, he did not mind her being the boss of him.  Which was great for Abbie.  They never fought or got in a tiff.  Probably because Tank was just the nicest.

One of my favorite family photos the year we got Abbie:

No matter how hard we tried, we could not get Tank to face the correct way.

So.  That is why today was bleak. We had to say goodbye to our friend.  I took the kids on a drive to the dump and for milkshakes.  All four were crying.

Poor boys.  Not only did they have to dig the hole for Tank, but they had to deal with this problem soon after:

Unclogging a flooded culvert.  Or something like that.

See?  I told you today was bleak.

I want to end with a memory of Tank from just this past week that truly captured him.

One of Norma’s kittens was investigating him, and I was sitting on the ground nearby.

The kitten weighs maybe one pound.

Maybe.

Tank weighs about 100 pounds.

The kitten investigated him and then deemed him to be an enemy.  She arched her back and hissed at him, scaring poor Tank.

He got up, trembling, and came and sat in my lap.

He was a good dog.  We were so lucky to have had him.

After I posted this morning, I went to try and feed the calf in the laundry room.  He was not interested in eating, so I took a shower.  I decided to try and feed him with a syringe a bit later.

While I was trying to do that, he could hear his mama mooing for him.  He started mooing, so I thought that was a good sign.  I went and got muck boots on and one of David’s coats and then started to pick him up to try and take him outside to Hildy.

Somehow, he died while I was trying to pick him up.  Because the world is a cruel place.

Me:  Oh, you can’t be dead?  You were just alive?  Are you dead?  Hello?  You shouldn’t die!

So, that was super and it was 8:30am and I had to be live with students at 9.

I was scared that I was wrong that he died.  So, I asked the boys to take him out by Hildy.  They argued and told me they didn’t feel like it.  I told them they would do it or their phones would be mine for three months.

So, as I went live with my students, they did just that.

And the calf was most assuredly, dead.

After my live session, I talked to David and he wanted me to have the boys take him to the burn pile.  They got the four wheeler to go and grab him, throwing snowballs at Hildy to try and keep her away from them.

Hildy has been mooing sorrowfully nonstop and my heart is sad.

I sent all the kids to my parents for the evening, and David came home with pizza and wine.

David:  You know what this means about Hildy, right?

Me:  You have to sell or butcher her?

David:  Yup.

Farm life.  Not for the faint of heart.

***

LD walked triumphantly out of my bathroom.

LD:  126!

Me:  126?

LD (beaming):  Yeah.  That’s how much I weigh.

Me:  Oh.  Is that good?

LD (still beaming):  Oh, yeah.

Me:  Cool.  What is your goal weight?

LD:  126.

Me:  Oh, so you are good with this weight and do not want to ever weigh more?

LD:  Yup.

And then he fixed himself a little snack.

Bless his heart.

***

Norma Jean Riley is over it.  She is completely done rearing four kittens and keeps trying to escape them.  She seeks refuge with me and pretends to not hear them meowing for her.

Yes.  I am now talking about my cat like she is a person.  What of it?

She tries to sneak around, but they find her.

Oh, yes.  They find her.

And they just start nursing off her, when she isn’t even laying down comfortably.  Finally, she gives up and lays down and lets them have at it.

And then she gives me this look.  And I have captioned this look the:

“I regret all my life choices” look.

Me:  Well, stop running around the neighborhood like a hussy.

Sometimes she jumps on my bed to hide from the children.  Normally, (and I say this only in case David is perchance reading this) animals are never allowed on our bed.  But she jumps up and gives me a little meow as if to say, “I need a break from those little blessings.”  And I can relate to her, seeing as how I also have four children, so I just nod at her in solidarity and allow her to seek refuge on our bed.

Today, for the first time ever, one of the kittens jumped up onto the bed and found her.  She was sitting up.  She looked at me.  And while she was sitting up, the kitten started nursing off of her, without even allowing her time to get into a proper nursing position.

Kids.  They are just, well, you know.

HD:  Mom.  Where is my jersey?

Me:  Haven’t seen it.

HD:  MOM.  IT IS BLUE.  I LEFT IT ON THE COUCH.

Me:  Why would you leave it on the couch?

HD:  MOM.  I NEED IT.

Me:  Sorry, bud.  I haven’t seen it.

HD:  I know you know where it is.

Me:  Nope.

HD:  Well, it’s not like KATE does my laundry.

What is happening?  How did I become his assistant in life who is supposed to keep track of his things and answer to such sass?

Solidarity, Norma Jean.  Solidarity.

***

Update:  David’s father was in the hospital for a few days, but he was discharged and now resting at home.    I sent him cow pictures to humor him, and he responded appropriately to humor me, so we are now basically texting best friends.

***

Not only did Babs recently have a calf:

But Hildy went and had herself a cow as well.

Jealous?

I was observing Hildy and calf and noticing that her calf seemed weak and he was laying in the same spot all the time.  The horses were also hovering around him, and the horses have been known to pick on weak calves.  This information will be important later.

***

Last night.

Last night was HIDEOUS.  Yes, hideous.  Mother is correct.  Sometimes you need to describe something as hideous, as hideous is the only adjective worthy of such a event as last night.

HIDEOUS.

1.  I had to go to parent teacher conferences for the three children at the private school.  I walked in and realized that I really didn’t know the names of their teachers.  So I walked up to each table and asked if they had any Maliblahblah children in their class.  Imagine my delight when they would smile and say, “Oh, yes!  We are so glad to have Hadley.  What a delight!”  And imagine my fear and trepidation when they would say, “Oh yes.  I have two boys with that last name.  Have a seat.”
2. One teacher was wondering if LD was adopted and I found that to be a weird and wild blast from the past, if any long time readers remember THAT whole ordeal.
3. LD is not adopted.  He is all mine.  Just like the other three.  I birthed four children.
4. The teachers were kind and seem to enjoy the boys.  One teacher mentioned that she finds LD to be, and I quote, “absolutely hilarious.”  I relayed this to David and we both agreed LD shall never know.  Because then he would take that and run with it and we would all see how quickly “hilarious” turned into “obnoxious”
5. So then I had to wait in town for HD’s basketball practice.  It was to conclude at NINE PM.  Like an hour after my bedtime.  I hung out with Grant and Connie Jo, my parents.  My mom fed me pizza and let me wear some of her jammies.
6. “Taylor.  You must wear these.  They feel like you are being wrapped in a warm hug.”
7.  “Yes, Ma.  They are cozy.”
8. “Taylor.  Walmart.  $9.96!”
9. I fell asleep in mother’s jammies and truly felt like I was sleeping in a warm hug.
10. I woke up around 8:30 and grabbed my clothes, got in the car wearing mother’s pajamas, picked up HD, and drove home.
11. I didn’t drive through McDonald’s for a milkshake, which, naturally, was child abuse according to poor HD, and I have no idea how much he had to run at practice.
12. I arrive to ye olde homestead at 10pm.  It appeared that the children had cooked much food but didn’t know it was customary to clean up after themselves, and David was fast asleep.  About two minutes after I arrived, Abbie and Charlie, our dogs, got in a fight.  Like the worst one ever.
13. It was so loud and awful.  It woke David up and even the TEEN GIRLS came up from the basement to see what was going on.  We could not get them apart.  David got bit.  At one point we got them separated and were trying to get Abbie into a kennel when Charlie broke free from whomever was holding her and went after Abbie again.  They bumped into a full length mirror I had taken off the wall and had propped up for whenever I get around to painting.  The mirror shattered and they continued to fight on top of broken glass.  David yelled for Hadley to put a couch cushion on them and lay on top and somehow that worked and we got them separated.  David, Abbie, and Charlie were all bleeding, the couch cushion had blood all over it and there was broken glass all over the ground.
14. As we were recovering from that ordeal, I went to the deck to check to see if the baby calf was in the same spot.  He was and no mama around.  David and I decide to go and check on him.  Please understand I am still in Connie Jo’s pajamas and it is 10:30 AT NIGHT.  Also, I must interject that I asked LD to clean the couch cushion and he chose a dirty old Magic Eraser without water and half-heartedly rubbed it around and called it good.
15. We try to pick up the calf and then Hildy decides to come.  She is acting funny and trying to lick him and get him to come with her, but he does not follow her.  We both notice that she doesn’t look like she has much milk in her udder at all.  She keeps trying to get the calf to follow but he won’t.  Then the horses came and started their bullying.  Hildy was upset and running around them and after about a half an hour of trying to get the calf to nurse or follow the mother, we brought him inside.
16. You may ask, “Taylor!  Why would you bring him inside?!”
17. Reader.  I don’t know.  David doesn’t know.  We just don’t know.  A winter storm was coming overnight and since the calf was not following its mother to the area where all the cows sleep at night, we were worried he would be left alone in the storm.  And then the horses were messing with him and also, and I cannot stress this enough, we really have no idea what to do.  Like ever.
18. David:  Hildy won’t take the calf back after this.

Me:  Shoot.  Let’s put him back then.

David:  No, he will die in the storm.

Me:  What do we do?

David:  I don’t know.  Feed him on a bottle for awhile and try to sell him when he is stronger.

Me:  What do we do about the dogs?

David:  Put one of them down.

Me: !

David: Or give one away.

Me:  !

David:  Taylor.  This can’t keep happening.

Me:  Well, I cannot give up Abbie.

David:  Ok.

Me:  And I love Charlie, too.  And Charlie is Hadley’s puppy.

David:  We will get her a new dog.

Me: !

In Summary:

1. The calf is in my laundry room.  It is not super interested in eating.  Hildy is mooing moos of great sorrow and lament, while being alone and in a snowstorm.
2. The girl dogs are currently separated and I literally have no idea what to do about them.
3. Norma keeps hiding from her kittens, and it is plum not working.
4. I have no idea what I am doing over here.

Happy Friday the 13th!