Hard weekend on the farm.

We had a tough weekend at the AlpacaBerry Farm. Our shepherd mix dog, Sheba, somehow got into poison somewhere and we had to put her down. Since I grew up in the military, I never had pets growing up. Not many at least. There were a few dogs when we stayed in one place for longer than a year, but never did one die on me!!

Oh gosh. How sad is it to look into the eyes of your pet and not be able to explain how sorry you are they are in pain? Or even to sit there and wonder just how much pain they are in..... it's heartbreaking. Sheba came to live with us after being found in Richmond on a very cold morning several years ago. Dave walked into Silo Mill at just the perfect time for Barb to say, "here Dave ... you hold her." Well, he ended up bringing her home and she was a bright spot in our lives. At least for the most part. We had our moments with her.

Before we moved to the farm, she was only allowed outside on a leash. We knew everything she ate. That changed when we moved. And don't get me wrong. We have a fenced yard. She was an escape artist though. We never could figure out why she would run off from a perfectly good home. But, from time to time, she did.

I'm not a fan of a dog that runs. It kills me that Gracie, our Pyranees, runs around the neighborhood. We've tried keeping her in. It's impossible. She digs through anything we've put her in. And the electric fence doesn't faze her. She climbs over the bull gates. She's just hard to keep in.

But, she's a pretty good porch dog - 85% of the time. She has to have her morning and evening run and the rest of the time she just lays around the farm somewhere. She is always on the front porch when we get home, it's like she is protecting the place while we are gone. I chalk it up to she just needs 30 or 40 acres to patrol, not just three acres. It's just not a big enough 'job' for her.

I am very thankful that she is such a friendly dog and I don't worry that she'll hurt anyone. All you have to do is say her name and she'll roll over and let you pet her belly. She's a big baby!

Thanksgiving evening, Sheba got out for the last time. We figured we'd wake up and find her Friday morning laying on the front porch with Gracie. And she was. But something wasn't right. After an hour or so, it was evident she didn't feel good. And she was sick, throwing up some weird things. But, she was still drinking water and going to the bathroom, so we figured she just ate something bad.

By Saturday morning, she was paralyzed. It was evident she had ingested poison somewhere. The sad part, it was probably just tainted water somewhere. It is antifreeze season, so that's always a consideration. I guess my suggestion to end this post is to make sure you dispose of poisons properly and not let it get into our water supplies. It's a good reminder each year I guess.

We will miss her, the house seems so quiet now. Abby still looks for her every time we go outside and that's kind of sad. But, she's not in pain and that's the important thing. And, as much as I'll miss Sheba, I am thankful it wasn't my Abby girl. I can't imagine the grief I'll feel when she is gone!

Blessings to you all. Pam


My front porch is your front porch, won't you sit awhile?

Farm life isn't for everyone

I tend to think about a variety of different things while working in my gardens ... always thinking to myself that I should document some of my thoughts in a blog. So here goes post number one. Goodness only knows what might come out with the writing of this blog!

Gardening is relatively new to me. But then again, it isn't. I just never paid much attention to it during my younger years. I do, however, have fond memories about gardening back then. Dad's 'little' corn patch when we lived in Xenia, Ohio. Or my late Grandpa Fuddy in Idaho, who always grew a garden. But, as a child, it always meant work and that wasn't always fun for a kid.

During my 20's and 30's, I was too busy for a garden - and never had a place to grow a garden. Seems funny for me to say now, because I'm still too busy for a garden! But, it's my therapy. I do so much thinking out in that stinking thing! Always, without fail, I think of my Great Aunt Grayce. She was such a hoot! Her gardens in Lewiston, Idaho won many awards and got lots of recognition. I would go to her house after school and help her paint rocks to place in her garden. You know "Old gardeners never die, They just spade away." Things like that. Her eyesight wasn't the best, so I spent alot of time at her house identifying pictures too, while she could still see enough to identify everyone in the picture. She was such a dear lady!

Yesterday, as I pulled weed after weed, my thoughts turned to how much I enjoyed being out there. Yes, it's work.  But, to me, it's fun work. It's not for everyone. Dave hates to pull weeds. He'd just as soon I didn't have any flowers - all veggies. "You can't make any money off those flowers," as he would say. But I do catch him, from time to time, enjoying the beauty of the front yard, so I know he does enjoy it. Just in his own way. Because he is the Dave person and I am me. Two totally different people. But, we do knit ourselves together in our own special way.

Not everyone enjoys gardening - and that's okay. Not everyone can be self-employed and live the outrageous way Dave and I live - and that's okay too. I won't judge you, if you don't judge me. Because we are all separate in our own unique way. I can't imagine myself going on a big shopping trip and having fun. That's not me. But, hey, if that's you then so be it. Because you are your own person and none of us can be duplicated. Why would we even want to try?

See, I get pretty quirky in my thoughts. But, that's okay. I'm me and wouldn't want to be anyone  else!

Have a Blessed day everyone. Please enjoy this day that the Lord has given to us.

Pam

My front porch is your front porch, won't you sit awhile?