rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “canines”

Andi’s Reunion at the Rainbow Bridge

Today, May 19, 2021, we lost another of our beloved dogs at the old age of almost 14. Andi, short for Andora, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. It was not unexpected, for her health has deteriorated over the past few months. It was the proper and caring thing for us to do, euthanize her. Painful for us but compassionate for Andi.

She had the most endearing spirit of probably any dog I have ever met. Blind in one eye, and limited in the other, deaf to a point where I would have to touch her to wake her up and even then, she came hustling out of her kennel, shaking her booty along with her tail. Sometimes she would wag it so hard, we took to calling her “Miz Wiggles” or “Wigglebutt”. She adored that interacting and it was as if she was laughing with us. I’ll miss that.

Twice a day these retired show dogs, had the wide open spaces of our fenced acre to run free from their pens, dig holes, do what ever crossed their minds and we received the benefit of their performances. Most were hilarious, some not so much.  We still have “hole diggers” and the “Rancherette” continues to refill them almost on a daily basis. But “Andi” was not a digger. She was, shall I say, refined. I’ll miss that. She survived breast cancer surgery in 2016. But even when she was ill, she had that spunk. I’ll miss that.

She lived a wonderful life and as with our other dogs, enjoyed herself romping together with them.  Age has a way of catching up with even the most agile and healthy individuals and our beloved pets are no exception.

Andi, you have gone to meet Apollo, Denali, Mommy Dog (AKA Stella), Prada, Ty, Munchie and Alfie. What a reunion that was today. I know you are in good company. You always searched for Bennie’s Bully Sticks when he left one outside. You beat Grindle to them almost always. Don’t worry, Grindle with take care of them and says thanks. We miss you, “Miz Wiggles”. RIP “Wigglebutt”.

DENALI AND THE RAINBOW BRIDGE

Once again, we are faced with a piece of our heart broken. “Denali, Snow on the Summit”, a wonderful male standard poodle, has passed on. He was approaching 8 ½ years. I remember when he came to us as a 3 month old puppy. Although he was never shown, from the beginning he knew how to strut like a champion. He was a brilliant dog, very playful, a bit shy around strangers until he warmed up to you, but he could steal your heart. He had a stuffed duck that we called his baby. When I fed him, I would say, “Nalli”, time to feed your baby. He would pick up the stuffed duck and place it in his food dish. I regret I never got a picture of that. He loved to play ball. We have in our yard a Jolly Ball, typically used by horses, and several of our dogs play with that, but Denali was the best at grabbing the attached rope and swinging it around his head. He would stand there with it in his mouth and dare you to come and get it.

Once, our little black Cairn terrier, Grendel, got out of his kennel while Denali enjoying his run outside. Being the alpha dog that he is, and thinks he is Super Dog, this ten pound canine attacked this fully grown 40 pound Denali. This is where my instinct failed me. I reached in to separate the two dogs. Denali, fully, believing that he was biting Grendel, defended himself and bit me on the hand. The water hose did the trick, however. I have a scar that I will always treasure for it will forever remind me of this beautiful dog.

When Denali was growing up, he never quite mastered the technique of hiking a hind leg to “mark” his territory. Thus he constantly had yellow front legs. He most times “missed “his target.He would be embarrassed if he knew I told on him. But he eventually grasped the gist of the routine procedure.

Denali and his bottle

Twice this year we have seen beloved pets cross over the rainbow bridge. And now, Denali joins Munchie and Prada to play forever. I placed his “baby” beside his head. As I said before, I understand it, but I will never get used to it.

Go rest over the rainbow bridge, Denali, my Santa Dog

 

Denali as Santa

 

That’s How My Day Went

Various situations have occurred the past two months, preventing any posts to my blog. I will not elaborate on those circumstances. I am just picking up the past two weeks, starting with how my day went.

Day One.

So the “Rancherette” and I are sitting around discussing what new projects we can accomplish around the old homestead. Having constructed the last of three chicken coops, our attention turned to some, much needed, repairs to our little farmhouse.

“It needs new paint”, I said. (The “Rancherette” moonlights as a painter.)

“It needs a complete makeover”, she said. We should hire someone to put new siding on the house, she said. “You can supervise”, she said.

So, the plan began to take shape. Except, I said, “I can do it, myself” (not the staining part). Famous last words”!  she said.

I immediately sprang into action. Got out my measuring tape, my quarter-inch scale pad, a sharp pencil, and engaged my brain. Must have a materials list, you know. I walked around the house, measuring and visualizing the steps that will be required, writing down the information as I went. That was how the Sunday afternoon went.

Day Two.  

Pardon me if I go off subject for a moment.

Around our little Silkie chicken ranch, we have several roosters. They all have names, Mick Jagger, Rod Stewart, Dust Mop, Bloopety Blue, Goldfinger, and Tallyho. Goldfinger was once Goldilocks and Tallyho was once Tallulah, until we heard them crow. And speaking of crowing, they will crow on command, Seriously! Except for Mick and Rod, who refuse to crow at all.

So after my morning session with the “boys”, I turned my attention to the “running” of the dogs. Their daily constitutional is of utmost importance. It requires less attention to the sanitation of the kennels if they are allowed some freedom each morning.

While I am closely monitoring the canines, the “Rancherette” is tending to the “girls”, the female gender of chickens, who also have names. Just to name a few,  Sassy, Beauty, Baby Splash, Frosty and Rag Mop, who coos when the “Rancherette” sings R-A-G-G… M-O-P-P…, RAGMOP.

The “Rancherette” visits with each little hen every morning andthen  turns her interest to the two groups of baby chicks. They are kept in separate pens, the “Pre-K” chicks that are about two weeks older and the “Toddler” chicks, kept in their toddler pen. They do not have names as yet.

So, Monday morning, after the chores of tending to the chickens and running the dogs, I suggested we make a lumber run to the big “Blue” box lumberyard. I grabbed my list and off we went to the big “Blue” box lumberyard. Did I mention I also needed a new air compressor? 

After spending a couple of hours (and X-amount of $$$), we returned home, feeling exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. That was how Monday went.

Day Three.

Bright and early Tuesday morning and very excited to get started, I rushed through my chores with the animals and turned to the process of transforming the exterior of our home. I began by unloading some of the lumber and arranging the siding for the “Rancherette” (AKA, painter-deluxe) to start the process of staining prior to installation. She was spending her “girl-time” with the very friendly little Silkie hens and waiting on me. Sorry to say, I had to interrupt her session, as you will see next.

At this point, I will not go into describing each and every step, however, the first step of demo involved removal of some rotted wood. This being accomplished, I set up the table saw to rip a board into what is called a “water table trim”. This item can be purchased, however, it is quite expensive. Thus, I decided to manufacture this trim myself. About 10:30 A.M., The world changed dramatically. Without noting the graphic details, I was ripping the “water table trim”, and my little pinkie and ring fingers on my right hand, made contact with the table saw. Fifty plus years I have been around power tools, never having an accident of this nature. I must tell you, no matter how experienced you may think you are, it definitely is not enough if you do not remember to be SAFE!

Thanks to the “Rancherette” for her driving skills to the emergency room, the doctor thinks I will not lose my fingers, or perhaps only the tip of my pinkie. I will know for sure next week. It would appear that I am lucky  to keep the digits on my right hand. It has been quite a Summer to remember, what with new skin (Skin Cancer removal),  new eyes (cataract surgery) and now in the Fall a couple of finger repairs, I feel sort of like the “Bionic Man”. Rebuilt and even better than new.

And that was how Tuesday went. I can’t wait until Day Four. It will be here before I know it. In the short-term, I think I will go spend some time with the roosters. They may give me something to “crow about”.

Be safe out there.

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