The last two days we have had a very sick cow dog having seizures every few hours. Totally scary. As of this morning, Klyde seems to be just fine. It’s been quite an experience – and no sleep for me or Third for two days. (We think he’s been poisoned)
I will say, I paid a big $5 from Paypal to ask the vet a question here and Dr. Marie was very nice, very helpful, very kind and did not do any of the guilt tripping over us not being able to take him to a vet. I can’t say enough good about her. She replied within half an hour, too. So – if you ever have a question you really need a veterinarian for – she’s the one. She’s on Twitter, too. @AskAVetQuestion.
That said – I had to share a typical sleepless morning on the ranch. Klyde was pacing and whining and whining and pacing and pacing and whining. Then Thirds phone rings. And rings. And rings. He mumbles something about “I am not going to town today.” It stops. It starts again. Klyde paces and whines and paces and whines.
So although it was early (I try to keep morning feed at 10 am here, but since I was up the last two days it’s been 7 am) I went out to feed. Both dogs go with me which is great because Klyde has not felt up to going out to feed for a couple of days. I’m tired but trying very very hard to be patient.
First thing I notice is the mule is gone. GONE. Nowhere to be seen. The mare is hung up in the fence. The old cowpony is upset and pacing and whinnying.
I go on into the barn to get their hay (the mare has a tendency to extricate herself when food is in the offing without any help) and notice I am down to one upset barn cat (I have two..). Klyde, whose seperation anxiety is now off the scale after his illness, tries to follow me into the barn and I raise my voice and tell him “no”. He vanishes.
I get the hay and go toss it. By the time I’ve walked down the fence to drop the second pile, I hear my other cat. I walk around trying to find her. She is up a power pole, standing on the transformer of a power line. There is nothing, NOTHING on this ranch that will reach that high.
I turn to go back to the barn and the mule has traded off his invisibility cloak – he is now in my back pocket (Klyde took the cloak, more on that in a minute). Follows me to the first gate. This mooseheaded mule bashes gates with his head to knock them down and he’s got this one so bent up I cannot get it open to let him in. I go to the second gate – same thing. I cuss him. Told him he’ll have to wait, I’m going to go get the mare out of the fence.
I step over the fence in a spot I usually go through and dipshit mule tries to follow.
I am 5 feet tall and weight about 130. The mule is about 18 hands high (six feet at the shoulder) and weights about a half ton. He doesn’t fit through where I do. He gets caught. He tears the entire section of fence down behind me. The good news is he is now in the pen.
Meanwhile, I’ve discovered the mare has literally woven one hind leg through the field wire and is well and truly caught. I mash and push the wire down to her ankle and she lifts her foot and starts jerking. I take the foot to try and help her unweave herself and she twists around and crushes my hand and damn near kicks me in the head. I get my hand loose and back up a step and cuss her.
Well! She says. Then casually unweaves herself and walks over to eat…
So I go back to the barn, get the chickens breakfast and thank goodness they, at least, are all present, accounted for, and doing what chickens do.
I walk back up to the house and – no dogs. I call and call and here comes Harry full tilt boogie and goes in the house – but no Klyde. I walk around the barns and house looking for him. I’m afraid now he flopped over and had a seizure and I cannot see him because he is down.
So I go in, tell hubby my tale of woe. He gets dressed, gets his boots on, I get my boots on as I now expect to be walking knee deep in brush in snake country searching for a down dog.
Open the door.
Klyde is on the porch.
But runs off because he is now 3x more spooky than he has been for a year. Both of us eventually have to get off the porch and leave the door open and herd the herding dog inside.
I am having a beer for breakfast, anyone else want one?
I love living on the ranch. I love our animals. Really.
The cat is still on the pole.
Update at Noon:
I’m on my second beer.
Hubby looks out the window and the cat is not on the pole.
THIS is on the pole:
Hubby goes out to get some good photos of this Very Large Hawk.
Fortunately:
The pole sitting cat is in the barn.
I check the number of beers left in the refrigerator.
“My sister is an idiot”
