We’ve been in Richmond on a business trip for Dave. Fortunately, we have an excellent farm sitter and leave the farm knowing things will be well tended. Not, of course, as well as I tend to things but then this farm is my life’s blood and work. I count it all joy to live and work here, even when times call for drastic measures such as putting an animal down. We’re getting closer and closer to that time and I’m not sure if it will be Gracie or Miss Kitty who goes next. Statistically speaking because God alone knows if accidents are in the future.
Miss Kitty is resting on my lap as I’m at the computer and is having, mostly, good days. Last week, when the field across the road was cut, Miss Kitty spent the better portion of one day there hunting. Yes, she gets fed all the kibbles she wants, along with tuna and other snacks, but she’s a hunter and is good at her job. She’s always leaving little gifts to say “thanks” for the room and board.
This little one was found in the middle of the road as I came home from quilting last night. She’s fairly healthy, near as I can tell, but she’s starved and nothing by skin and bones. She’s in a dog carrier now, in the front room, with tuna, water, kitty litter and a towel to sleep upon. She’s a beautiful kitten and will make a dandy house and, hopefully, lap kitty…if she lives. I’m doing everything I can do to make that happen so time will tell. She’s visited several times a day so she can acclimate to me and Abbie; the puppies are too rambunctious to meet her yet. At least, Sadie is too rambunctious.
Do you think she looks like an Emma? Somehow I think so…This morning Abigail Ron Rotten, Sadie Hawkins and Sam Spade went for a walk in the yard. They have to explore, do their “bidness” and make sure the farm is safe yet another night. Sam, on his stubby little legs, can barely keep up but he makes a gallant effort. Lisa, in Texas, said she thought Sam Spade was a Petit Basset Griffon Vendeen. Ummm…probably not but hope springs eternal. I think Sam Spade is a Spaniel mix of sorts, emphasis on the “mix of sorts”. Whatever he is, he’s AAAdorable! Dr. Anne calls him a ‘boob dog’ and I knew exactly what she meant when she said it! Can’t you just see those women who carry little dogs held high, under their arm and against their breast? Boob dog indeed! rolling on the floor laughing madly out loud! I do hope Sam Spade grows into a twenty or thirty pounder or he’ll be kept a boob dog if only to be constantly rescued from Sadie Hawkin’s playfulness.
Last night, after quilting, Dave and I were in the sun room talking over the day. It’s where and how we, generally, start and end our days. Abbie was on the right, her usual spot. with Sadie Hawkins to my left…where Shaddie used to lie…Miss Kitty on my lap and Sam Spade on my back, stretched out across my shoulder with his head hanging down. Everyone was happy and peacefully snoozing…all the animals, that is to say.
All of a sudden, poor ole Sam Spade started s-l-i-d-i-n-g downdowndown until he landed atop Sadie Hawkins. His snoring, nor her snoring, never interrupted, they both slipped deeper into Sleepytown until it was time for all of us to go to bed. Ahh…the sleep of babies, no matter how many, or few, legs they have, is blissful and sweet.
Good-night Sadie Hawkins. Good-night Sam Spade. Good-night Abigail Von Rotten. Good-night Miss Kitty. Good-night Grandma Gracie. Good-night Miss Emma. Good-night Dave.
Sweet dreams, all.