One of the biggest problems with the animals is their short life spans. It seems like we're saying good-bye to our beloved friends far sooner than we'd expect. I have talked to people who won't have animals because they can't bear to say good-bye. It's tough.
I went out to feed the barnyard critters this afternoon and found one of the original bunnies had died right beside the feed dishes. There wasn't anything shifty about it. He just died. Copper was a very pretty brindle mini rex with a friendly and delightful personality. He and our black bunny Softy did not get along once they hit puberty and we had to separate them last spring after a fight that left Softy a little off balance.
Often in my family humor is used to cope with grief, and right after Brent and I shared hugs and cleaned up the crime scene, he looked at me with serious eyes and asked when we should "interview" the farm animals to see if we had a suspect or any witnesses. I laughed.
He started on a line of interesting questioning.
He theorized that the one who was most capable of orchestrating a crime would be Poco, given his extensive history as an ex-Navy Seal (see Poco's story). Brent hoped that Poco had fully retired, but was he used as a consultant? As we walked into the barn Brent noticed that Oreo, the stray barn cat, looked a little shifty.
Brent was certain that in Softy's haze of post-traumatic stress he had placed the hit on Copper. I thought that sounded a little far fetched given Softy's gentle nature, but when it comes to love we all make bad decisions.
Softy loved Peter, and Copper had won the girl. It was a bitter love triangle. Peter looked sad today as she stretched out on her side in her condo, smoking a cigarette. She said Copper was a good bunny who always treated her right, but when we brought up Softy you could see the shock and then love radiating through her eyes. Perhaps she helped in hopes of being reunited with her true love?
The pigs were stoic, but clearly shocked and saddened by the loss of one of the original farm animals. Willow babbled on about hearing something around two in the morning, because as you know, nothing good ever happens at two am, but she seemed more interested in gossiping than providing facts. Nelly said nothing. Not a word. We wonder?
When we tried to interview Oreo he ran away. It doesn't look good, but we can't find a motive. Inter-species love? Was he a hired thug? Will we ever know for certain?
Softy was very interesting to interview. He was cagey and very calm. Like ice. He didn't say anything to indite himself, but he showed no signs of sadness or grief at Copper's demise.
At the end of the day we have no answers. No reasons why Copper died. We know he's gone and we'll miss his hoppy hop. Find peace Copper and your friends at Beaver Creek Farm will miss you.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Senses
The windows are wide open as I walked from the kitchen to the bathroom and I heard the katydids and bull frogs singing.
I remember sitting on the porch with my mother listening to the sounds of the night as she told me about the katydids and their songs. Katydids are insects of the grasshopper variety, native to eastern states, that only sing at night. Their song is one of courtship with the males using their wings to sing to the females and the ladies chirp in response. I remember the smell of damp vegetation and the nearly overwellming hum of all the creatures lurking in the grass and trees surrounding the farm.
Rural sounds are different than their urban or city counterparts, but no less loud. The incessant buzzing of the katydids, bullfrogs, crickets, shieldbacks, coneheads, trigs, and angle-wings can fill your head and be louder than a thousand running engines. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Watching lightening bugs dance across the backyard I breathe deep and draw in the scents that can only be created on the farm during a hot spell in the height of summer. I hate how the dog days of summer seem to go by so quickly and I try to draw these evenings out longer and longer. I stay up later than I should, but it's worth it.
We've added falling water to the sounds of the night with our waterfall in the pond and it's soothing. The insects don't mind the competition and I can get behind this kind of noise pollution.
I suppose you have to love the country to appreciate the bugs and smell of swamp, but I'll take these stimulants over those of the city any day. I find the noise of people far more offending with the vehicles, music, TVs and the buzz of voices.
Some people love it and I can see the excitement of being surrounded by activity. The city has so many things to offer: food choices, drinks, bars, living music, dancing, friends and the extensive opportunity for chance encounters. I lived there once and quickly learned I'm truly a country girl at heart.
An ideal night for me is missing evening TV any warm night to sit outside with a glass of wine and my best friend to hear the katydids sing.
I remember sitting on the porch with my mother listening to the sounds of the night as she told me about the katydids and their songs. Katydids are insects of the grasshopper variety, native to eastern states, that only sing at night. Their song is one of courtship with the males using their wings to sing to the females and the ladies chirp in response. I remember the smell of damp vegetation and the nearly overwellming hum of all the creatures lurking in the grass and trees surrounding the farm.
Rural sounds are different than their urban or city counterparts, but no less loud. The incessant buzzing of the katydids, bullfrogs, crickets, shieldbacks, coneheads, trigs, and angle-wings can fill your head and be louder than a thousand running engines. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Watching lightening bugs dance across the backyard I breathe deep and draw in the scents that can only be created on the farm during a hot spell in the height of summer. I hate how the dog days of summer seem to go by so quickly and I try to draw these evenings out longer and longer. I stay up later than I should, but it's worth it.
We've added falling water to the sounds of the night with our waterfall in the pond and it's soothing. The insects don't mind the competition and I can get behind this kind of noise pollution.
I suppose you have to love the country to appreciate the bugs and smell of swamp, but I'll take these stimulants over those of the city any day. I find the noise of people far more offending with the vehicles, music, TVs and the buzz of voices.
Some people love it and I can see the excitement of being surrounded by activity. The city has so many things to offer: food choices, drinks, bars, living music, dancing, friends and the extensive opportunity for chance encounters. I lived there once and quickly learned I'm truly a country girl at heart.
An ideal night for me is missing evening TV any warm night to sit outside with a glass of wine and my best friend to hear the katydids sing.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Ear Infections
Ear infections. Yuck.
It was in 1996 that Misiu entered and immediately enriched my life. He was a golden retriever with the temperment of a God. He brought years of love, kindness, devotion and compassion to my life. Misiu died in 2008 and left me floating in a great abyss. He left an emptiness in my heart that took years to heal. I still get misty-eyed thinking of his great brown eyes staring at me with love while he rested his large square head on my thigh. He would sit quietly with me while I cried and would snore gently while I suffered with insomnia.
Misiu taught me so much and this next bit of information is something that might help save a few trips to the vet and many battles with ear infections.
Floppy eared dogs tend to have ear problems due to air flow constrictions, add a warm environment and you have the perfect breeding ground for bacterial growth. The golden's love of water and pre-disposition to allergies and you have a recipe for chronic ear infections. Allergies in dogs present with ear infections, paw chewing and hot spots.
Misiu was four and we'd been battling ear infections his whole life. We'd just returned from the vet and they'd done a swab to determine what type of bacterial was growing in his ears. We'd been fighting this particular ear infection for two months with different solutions and nothing was working, so the did a swab and create a special formula to battle the specific bacteria growing in Misiu's ears.
The swab came back over three plus (three is the worst infection) for three different bacteria, one was ecoli. For two hundred dollars the vet mixed up a special solution that caused Misiu to cringe as I massaged his raw infected ears. Three weeks later there was no improvement and I was reading information on the internet about ear infections invading the brain causing meningitis and how dogs shook their heads so hard they caused aneurysms from ear infections.
Misiu was only four years old.
One day I got an email from a friend who breeds water loving springer spaniels in England and he gave me a recipe for an ear treatment. There were only three affordable ingredients, but the first one made me cringe: seventy percent isopropyl alcohol. I was suppose to pour alcohol into his red, raw ears? Really?
Boric acid and gentian violet make up the other two ingredients. Boric acid is an astringent and it soothes the pain, while gentian violet battles the yeast and bacteria that has made the ear it's warm damp home. The alcohol dries it all out creating an uninhabitable environment for the bacteria.
I was able to purchase the necessary materials from Shopper's Drug Mart for less than $10 and headed home with my squeeze bottle to try out the new ear treatment. I mixed up 750 ml of 70% isopropyl alcohol + 4 tablepoons of boric acid + 10 drops of gentian violet = Blue Powder Ear Treatment
http://doglinks.co.nz/health/Ear_treatment.htm
Since Misiu's ears where so horribly infected I was told to flood the ears with solution (don't massage) and leave the dog alone. DO THIS OUTSIDE. The gentian violet dyes everything purple. Your dog's ears will be purple as well as anything else that the solution touches. Your skin, furniture, concrete, floor and I mean everything.
After only three days of flooding his ears twice a day I noticed they looked less angry. Less red and much less stinky. On the fourth day I flooded his ears and then used a paper towel to gently wipe out some of the gook.
After a week his ears looked a healthy pink (and purple!). I used Q-tips dipped in solution to clean out the bottom of his ears. I continued the treatment for another week to make sure the infection was gone. For the first time in months my boy was finally comfortable.
I used the Blue Powder Ear Treatment once a month as preventative therapy and would give him a squirt whenever he spent a day in the water or if I smelled a hint of infection.
After the first few days Misiu didn't seem to mind the solution. He cried with the vet solution, but the blue solution was soothing.
Misiu doesn't realize it, but he has helped so many dogs with this experience. Thanks to Misiu (his mini-me) Gizmo gets quick treatment for his chronic ear infections. Misiu and Gizmo share many traits: the love of food, napping, cuddling, allergies and chronic ear infections.
I'm sure Gizmo would give Misiu a big cuddle of thanks for finding the cure to any ear infection.
It was in 1996 that Misiu entered and immediately enriched my life. He was a golden retriever with the temperment of a God. He brought years of love, kindness, devotion and compassion to my life. Misiu died in 2008 and left me floating in a great abyss. He left an emptiness in my heart that took years to heal. I still get misty-eyed thinking of his great brown eyes staring at me with love while he rested his large square head on my thigh. He would sit quietly with me while I cried and would snore gently while I suffered with insomnia.
Misiu taught me so much and this next bit of information is something that might help save a few trips to the vet and many battles with ear infections.
Floppy eared dogs tend to have ear problems due to air flow constrictions, add a warm environment and you have the perfect breeding ground for bacterial growth. The golden's love of water and pre-disposition to allergies and you have a recipe for chronic ear infections. Allergies in dogs present with ear infections, paw chewing and hot spots.
Misiu was four and we'd been battling ear infections his whole life. We'd just returned from the vet and they'd done a swab to determine what type of bacterial was growing in his ears. We'd been fighting this particular ear infection for two months with different solutions and nothing was working, so the did a swab and create a special formula to battle the specific bacteria growing in Misiu's ears.
The swab came back over three plus (three is the worst infection) for three different bacteria, one was ecoli. For two hundred dollars the vet mixed up a special solution that caused Misiu to cringe as I massaged his raw infected ears. Three weeks later there was no improvement and I was reading information on the internet about ear infections invading the brain causing meningitis and how dogs shook their heads so hard they caused aneurysms from ear infections.
Misiu was only four years old.
One day I got an email from a friend who breeds water loving springer spaniels in England and he gave me a recipe for an ear treatment. There were only three affordable ingredients, but the first one made me cringe: seventy percent isopropyl alcohol. I was suppose to pour alcohol into his red, raw ears? Really?
Boric acid and gentian violet make up the other two ingredients. Boric acid is an astringent and it soothes the pain, while gentian violet battles the yeast and bacteria that has made the ear it's warm damp home. The alcohol dries it all out creating an uninhabitable environment for the bacteria.
I was able to purchase the necessary materials from Shopper's Drug Mart for less than $10 and headed home with my squeeze bottle to try out the new ear treatment. I mixed up 750 ml of 70% isopropyl alcohol + 4 tablepoons of boric acid + 10 drops of gentian violet = Blue Powder Ear Treatment
http://doglinks.co.nz/health/Ear_treatment.htm
Since Misiu's ears where so horribly infected I was told to flood the ears with solution (don't massage) and leave the dog alone. DO THIS OUTSIDE. The gentian violet dyes everything purple. Your dog's ears will be purple as well as anything else that the solution touches. Your skin, furniture, concrete, floor and I mean everything.
After only three days of flooding his ears twice a day I noticed they looked less angry. Less red and much less stinky. On the fourth day I flooded his ears and then used a paper towel to gently wipe out some of the gook.
After a week his ears looked a healthy pink (and purple!). I used Q-tips dipped in solution to clean out the bottom of his ears. I continued the treatment for another week to make sure the infection was gone. For the first time in months my boy was finally comfortable.
I used the Blue Powder Ear Treatment once a month as preventative therapy and would give him a squirt whenever he spent a day in the water or if I smelled a hint of infection.
After the first few days Misiu didn't seem to mind the solution. He cried with the vet solution, but the blue solution was soothing.
Misiu doesn't realize it, but he has helped so many dogs with this experience. Thanks to Misiu (his mini-me) Gizmo gets quick treatment for his chronic ear infections. Misiu and Gizmo share many traits: the love of food, napping, cuddling, allergies and chronic ear infections.
I'm sure Gizmo would give Misiu a big cuddle of thanks for finding the cure to any ear infection.
Morning Rituals
Working four twelve hour shifts in a row can be exhausting. My shifts are always six to six. Whether it's six in the morning or six at night. I usually get up at four thirty for a day shift so I have time to get myself ready and spend a few special moments with the dogs.
I am usually dragging myself out of bed, because that's what you do at four thirty in the morning, and Taz stumbles downstairs with me practically falling into her heated dog bed in the window seat while I shower. The boys do not even open their eyes as I give them both belly rubs on the way to the bathroom.
Once dressed the dogs know it's breakfast time and Gizmo comes flying down the stairs to launch himself on my leg as I'm piling food into stainless steel bowls. Poco is a little more dignified and ambles down the stairs, doing the yoga move "downward dog" better than I'll ever manage to start his day.
Taz watches lazily from her bed and I call her repeatedly to come eat only to have her fall back asleep. I warm up the food and set it next to her bed. Who doesn't love a warm breakfast in bed?
After breakfast we all go for a walk to check on the pond and pool pumps, the ducks and bunnies. Everyone is still sleepy, except the dogs who are having a great stroll in the pre-dawn light.
Back into the house for a cookie and to give Brent a kiss good-bye. The dogs race me up the stairs to the bedroom and I try to stop them from launching themselves onto Brent's sleeping body. Taz always goes for the face, Gizmo the ears and Poco curls up at his feet. Poor Brent. He walks with a start and tries to yell, but has learned not to open his mouth or it will be filled with puppy kisses. He buries his head under the sheet to protect himself from the onslaught of the puppy alarm clock. The snooze button is easy - rub a belly.
I'd love to rescue Brent, but I'm too busy laughing.
I walk out the door to Taz's ire she explodes into a series of barks that would have me evicted if I'd lived anywhere, but in the country. Thankfully my new neighbour has two large black shepards that he leaves out all night and their barks are much louder than my eight pound princess. My only two neighbours spend more time complaining about his dogs than any of my farm animals, and the shepards have never helped themselves to her garden!
We have a dog door built into the main back door and the door off the back porch, so the dogs can go outside anytime. I work twelve hour shifts and I needed to ensure the dogs needs were taken care of, plus I didn't want them going potty in the house. They're outdoor experiences are limited to the very secure immediate backyard and are only allowed access to the pond area when we're home. It's a special treat to run around the pond and get up close and personal with the bunny pen.
It is with a heavy heart that I take one last look at that tiny face with the big eyes staring out from behind the glass door as I pull out of the driveway for work. Everyday that face makes me wish I didn't have to leave her behind. The love that radiates and the sadness nearly shatters my heart, but I am rebuilt as upon my return the world is right again as I'm greeted by insane barking, flying puppies, gifts of doggie toys and the ever present puppy kisses.
Life is good when you're surrounded by a cloud of puppies.
I am usually dragging myself out of bed, because that's what you do at four thirty in the morning, and Taz stumbles downstairs with me practically falling into her heated dog bed in the window seat while I shower. The boys do not even open their eyes as I give them both belly rubs on the way to the bathroom.
Once dressed the dogs know it's breakfast time and Gizmo comes flying down the stairs to launch himself on my leg as I'm piling food into stainless steel bowls. Poco is a little more dignified and ambles down the stairs, doing the yoga move "downward dog" better than I'll ever manage to start his day.
Taz watches lazily from her bed and I call her repeatedly to come eat only to have her fall back asleep. I warm up the food and set it next to her bed. Who doesn't love a warm breakfast in bed?
After breakfast we all go for a walk to check on the pond and pool pumps, the ducks and bunnies. Everyone is still sleepy, except the dogs who are having a great stroll in the pre-dawn light.
Back into the house for a cookie and to give Brent a kiss good-bye. The dogs race me up the stairs to the bedroom and I try to stop them from launching themselves onto Brent's sleeping body. Taz always goes for the face, Gizmo the ears and Poco curls up at his feet. Poor Brent. He walks with a start and tries to yell, but has learned not to open his mouth or it will be filled with puppy kisses. He buries his head under the sheet to protect himself from the onslaught of the puppy alarm clock. The snooze button is easy - rub a belly.
I'd love to rescue Brent, but I'm too busy laughing.
I walk out the door to Taz's ire she explodes into a series of barks that would have me evicted if I'd lived anywhere, but in the country. Thankfully my new neighbour has two large black shepards that he leaves out all night and their barks are much louder than my eight pound princess. My only two neighbours spend more time complaining about his dogs than any of my farm animals, and the shepards have never helped themselves to her garden!
We have a dog door built into the main back door and the door off the back porch, so the dogs can go outside anytime. I work twelve hour shifts and I needed to ensure the dogs needs were taken care of, plus I didn't want them going potty in the house. They're outdoor experiences are limited to the very secure immediate backyard and are only allowed access to the pond area when we're home. It's a special treat to run around the pond and get up close and personal with the bunny pen.
It is with a heavy heart that I take one last look at that tiny face with the big eyes staring out from behind the glass door as I pull out of the driveway for work. Everyday that face makes me wish I didn't have to leave her behind. The love that radiates and the sadness nearly shatters my heart, but I am rebuilt as upon my return the world is right again as I'm greeted by insane barking, flying puppies, gifts of doggie toys and the ever present puppy kisses.
Life is good when you're surrounded by a cloud of puppies.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Sunset Ceremony
When I talk about the beach I am talking about Brent's family cottages in Long Beach, Wainfleet. They have more than a handful of beach rental properties right on the best part of Lake Erie. There is along expanse of light tan beach that stretches from wall to water and burns the feet in the height of summer. You can check out the cottages on their website: http://www.longbeachcottages.com/long_beach__the_beach.htm
Brent and I met in the fall when the beach is still warm from the summer sun, but after labour day it becomes vacant. The sun starts to set over the lake on the west side only in the fall and that is how we had one of our first dates that he called "The Sunset Ceremony". I'm sure this is something the long beach boys made up to get girls to come to the beach. It's romantic, lovely and it worked.
For the actually ceremony you start off watching the ball of fire slowly decend into the water while drinking tall glasses of chilled, dry white wine. The talk is light and the contact is playful. Hand holding, hair tugging and giggling. I felt like a teenager.
As the sun drops lower and hits the water we make sizzling sounds and then head towards the water with our candles. The Sunset Ceremony can only be official performed in the fall on a warm still night. With the water barely moving you send your candle floating in a plastic bottle out into the lake. The candle that goes the farthest wins.
How can you get more romantic? Glasses of wine, sunset, candles and gentle cuddles. At that moment it seems the whole world sighs and the tension ebbs away.
This method of getting girls should have a patent.
I didn't know I'd marry this guy, but I did know he could work magic.
Brent and I met in the fall when the beach is still warm from the summer sun, but after labour day it becomes vacant. The sun starts to set over the lake on the west side only in the fall and that is how we had one of our first dates that he called "The Sunset Ceremony". I'm sure this is something the long beach boys made up to get girls to come to the beach. It's romantic, lovely and it worked.
For the actually ceremony you start off watching the ball of fire slowly decend into the water while drinking tall glasses of chilled, dry white wine. The talk is light and the contact is playful. Hand holding, hair tugging and giggling. I felt like a teenager.
As the sun drops lower and hits the water we make sizzling sounds and then head towards the water with our candles. The Sunset Ceremony can only be official performed in the fall on a warm still night. With the water barely moving you send your candle floating in a plastic bottle out into the lake. The candle that goes the farthest wins.
How can you get more romantic? Glasses of wine, sunset, candles and gentle cuddles. At that moment it seems the whole world sighs and the tension ebbs away.
This method of getting girls should have a patent.
I didn't know I'd marry this guy, but I did know he could work magic.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
How to Flip a Pig
If you've never heard a pig really squeal, then you are a lucky person. If you've never had to make a pig do something a pig doesn't want to do then you've probably never heard a pig squeal.
To move Charlotte from one area to another takes a great deal of squealing on her part and some swearing on our part. She's a very stubborn pig. Since Ginger's arrival Charlotte has become very very vocal.
Today, my dad and I were standing just outside the barn talking and we could barely hear each other over Charlotte's squeals. I had to feed her just to get a little quiet, but his is nothing compared to when we trimmed her cloven hooves. (I won a bet by using the word "cloven" in a sentence)
Ginger had arrived only two days before the scheduled hoof trimming day. I'd seen an ad on kijiji for a woman looking for help in trimming her pigs. I'd sent her an email stating that I had no idea how to do this, but I was willing to hold a pig and learn. This stranger emailed me back and said she was learning by watching youtube videos on the internet and was willing to give it a shot. She lived close by and did dog training with my neighbour. Let's call her ... Sandy. (just in case she doesn't want to be in this story)
Sandy arrived at the farm on a Monday afternoon and after a few pleasantries we were ready to flip some pigs. Yes. You have to flip'em. This is exactly as it sounds.
Ginger weights about fifty pounds and is slightly under-muscled for a pig her size. Families are often told if you don't feed the pigs very much they won't grow very big, but this leads to all sorts of problems - worst of all: hungry pigs. We decided to start our pig trimming with the smaller of the two pigs. Sandy showed up exactly on time and brought tools.
We lured Ginger with food and Sandy managed to grab Ginger by her front legs and flip her onto her back so all four legs were up in the air. Once a pig is on it's back and balanced she has a really hard time getting up, but she squeals. She screams and squeals and if you have close neighbours I'd advise trimming your pig when they aren't home. The noise drove the dogs nuts and hurt the ears.
Ginger managed to escape twice, but Sandy expertly flipped her on her back and finished the pig pedicure. Ginger's hooves were so long she had difficulty walking and was standing on her ankles. With freshly trimmed hooves that pig could really move. Finished with her spa day Ginger was released back into her area to rest and relax. After a few bites of carrot she was stretch out in the cool dirt enjoying a nap - new meaning to dirt nap.
It was time to move over to the big pen. Sandy offered to trim the goats too and said she was familiar with trimming goats. Who was this amazing woman??? My part-dog and part-goat Willow stood like a gentle woman as we trimmed her feet. She barely struggled and didn't once try to jump, kick or buck. A perfect lady enjoying the attention and talented hands of our local hoof trimmer.
Sandy, Brent and I stood and stared at Charlotte. I won't lie, we were intimidated. Charlotte is a big pig. Brent guessed she's pushing one hundred and eighty pounds, while I won't go much above one fifty, still that's a lot of bacon.
Sandy and I stared at Brent and waited for him to flip the pig, but first, we have to catch her.
Sandy and I start using our bodies and arms to try and stop Charlotte from escaping the spa area, but we are useless and Charlotte runs right past us and into the big open area of the pen. We try using pieces of wood to guide Charlotte back into a smaller space, but she runs past us and into the barn. We block the entrance into the barn with a piece of plywood, but the plywood doesn't stand a chance.
We guide her out of the barn and set up four foot pieces of fence to limit her area, but she finds and pushes past the one weak spot. Is this pig an ex-Navy seal?
Finally, we shore up the weak spots get her outside and Brent tries to grab her by the front legs to pick her up and flip her onto her back. The first attempt is grossly unsucessful and both pig and flipper walk away bruised.
Re-group. Heavy breathing. A little bleeding from everyone. Okay. Try again.
We tried a handful of times and we were just about to give up when Brent stood up took a big breath and said "ready?" Sandy and I stood at attention and watched as the man and pig eyed each other.
The score was pig 5 man 0, but that was about to change when Brent made a daredevil move that pushed the score pig 5 and man 10. We win! We win! We win!
Brent dove on Charlotte and grabbed her by the front legs and with a grunt of power picked her up and flipped her onto her back. Sandy I stood in shock and amazment before we jumped into action armed with nippers and a powerful file. In under five minutes the deed was done. No drugs. No vets. No serious injury.
Drugs are really hard on pigs and the vet usually want to sedate the pigs in order to trim the hooves, but the all natural "pig way" is to flip them.
Next time we'll use more powerful fencing and I think Brent will go for the dive right away. Show no fear.
Charlotte walked away with a soft whine, but she moved freely and easily on freshly trimmed feet. Cheers to the new farmers! As she walked away I couldn't myself, but whisper "that'll do pig. that'll do."
"The purity of a person's heart can be quickly measured by how they regard animals" Anonymous
To move Charlotte from one area to another takes a great deal of squealing on her part and some swearing on our part. She's a very stubborn pig. Since Ginger's arrival Charlotte has become very very vocal.
Today, my dad and I were standing just outside the barn talking and we could barely hear each other over Charlotte's squeals. I had to feed her just to get a little quiet, but his is nothing compared to when we trimmed her cloven hooves. (I won a bet by using the word "cloven" in a sentence)
Ginger had arrived only two days before the scheduled hoof trimming day. I'd seen an ad on kijiji for a woman looking for help in trimming her pigs. I'd sent her an email stating that I had no idea how to do this, but I was willing to hold a pig and learn. This stranger emailed me back and said she was learning by watching youtube videos on the internet and was willing to give it a shot. She lived close by and did dog training with my neighbour. Let's call her ... Sandy. (just in case she doesn't want to be in this story)
Sandy arrived at the farm on a Monday afternoon and after a few pleasantries we were ready to flip some pigs. Yes. You have to flip'em. This is exactly as it sounds.
Ginger weights about fifty pounds and is slightly under-muscled for a pig her size. Families are often told if you don't feed the pigs very much they won't grow very big, but this leads to all sorts of problems - worst of all: hungry pigs. We decided to start our pig trimming with the smaller of the two pigs. Sandy showed up exactly on time and brought tools.
We lured Ginger with food and Sandy managed to grab Ginger by her front legs and flip her onto her back so all four legs were up in the air. Once a pig is on it's back and balanced she has a really hard time getting up, but she squeals. She screams and squeals and if you have close neighbours I'd advise trimming your pig when they aren't home. The noise drove the dogs nuts and hurt the ears.
Ginger managed to escape twice, but Sandy expertly flipped her on her back and finished the pig pedicure. Ginger's hooves were so long she had difficulty walking and was standing on her ankles. With freshly trimmed hooves that pig could really move. Finished with her spa day Ginger was released back into her area to rest and relax. After a few bites of carrot she was stretch out in the cool dirt enjoying a nap - new meaning to dirt nap.
It was time to move over to the big pen. Sandy offered to trim the goats too and said she was familiar with trimming goats. Who was this amazing woman??? My part-dog and part-goat Willow stood like a gentle woman as we trimmed her feet. She barely struggled and didn't once try to jump, kick or buck. A perfect lady enjoying the attention and talented hands of our local hoof trimmer.
Sandy, Brent and I stood and stared at Charlotte. I won't lie, we were intimidated. Charlotte is a big pig. Brent guessed she's pushing one hundred and eighty pounds, while I won't go much above one fifty, still that's a lot of bacon.
Sandy and I stared at Brent and waited for him to flip the pig, but first, we have to catch her.
Sandy and I start using our bodies and arms to try and stop Charlotte from escaping the spa area, but we are useless and Charlotte runs right past us and into the big open area of the pen. We try using pieces of wood to guide Charlotte back into a smaller space, but she runs past us and into the barn. We block the entrance into the barn with a piece of plywood, but the plywood doesn't stand a chance.
We guide her out of the barn and set up four foot pieces of fence to limit her area, but she finds and pushes past the one weak spot. Is this pig an ex-Navy seal?
Finally, we shore up the weak spots get her outside and Brent tries to grab her by the front legs to pick her up and flip her onto her back. The first attempt is grossly unsucessful and both pig and flipper walk away bruised.
Re-group. Heavy breathing. A little bleeding from everyone. Okay. Try again.
We tried a handful of times and we were just about to give up when Brent stood up took a big breath and said "ready?" Sandy and I stood at attention and watched as the man and pig eyed each other.
The score was pig 5 man 0, but that was about to change when Brent made a daredevil move that pushed the score pig 5 and man 10. We win! We win! We win!
Brent dove on Charlotte and grabbed her by the front legs and with a grunt of power picked her up and flipped her onto her back. Sandy I stood in shock and amazment before we jumped into action armed with nippers and a powerful file. In under five minutes the deed was done. No drugs. No vets. No serious injury.
Drugs are really hard on pigs and the vet usually want to sedate the pigs in order to trim the hooves, but the all natural "pig way" is to flip them.
Next time we'll use more powerful fencing and I think Brent will go for the dive right away. Show no fear.
Charlotte walked away with a soft whine, but she moved freely and easily on freshly trimmed feet. Cheers to the new farmers! As she walked away I couldn't myself, but whisper "that'll do pig. that'll do."
"The purity of a person's heart can be quickly measured by how they regard animals" Anonymous
Friday, July 16, 2010
Mr & Mrs D. Smith
Things have been a bit hectic these past few weeks and I'd like to bring you up to date with our newest arrivals: Mr. & Mrs. Smith a pair of muscovy ducks born the weekend of May twenty-fourth. They are, in a word, delightful.
Muscovy ducks from South America are natural fly catchers and the only non-mallard relations in our area.
The baby ducks came to us one at time, but never have we seen a truer love affair blossom. Mrs. Smith came first and was a little shy. Chicken Nugget was not exactly welcoming, but the other farm animals were not threatened by her fuzzy body. Fearful she would be mistaken as a snack we kept her in the bunny hutch for safety.
By Sunday afternoon Mr. Smith arrived and Mrs. Smith immediatley cuddled tightly to her mate. I was enchanted. They were very friendly and affectionate with each other and with people. They like to eat out of your hand and will follow you around in hopes of more snacks.
We started the pair living with the chicken, pigs, goats and bunnies; but something didn't seem quite right. We had this great pond and I felt that's where they belonged.
I was concerned because there are times the dogs have access to this area. Brent was concerned they'd make a mess of the pond, eat the fish and poop everywhere.
Once the proper introductions were made it seems the dogs and ducks got along fine. Now that the ducks are twice the size of the dogs it doesn't seem to be much of a problem. Mr. Smith is very protective of his mate and will give Poco a necessary snap now and then - this works.
We don't notice too much poop around the pond and they haven't taken to eating the fish yet. Poco is the only one who seems interested in the ducks and their poop. The very first day the ducks came to live in the pond Poco found a small pile of poop and rolled around in it until his back was liberally coated in a slimy stench. Thankfully he fits in the utility tub.
Initially the ducks were not keen on their new environment. They stayed by the fence line waiting and staring at their previous home. We lured them closer to the pond with duck chow, but they would not venture into the water. Did I have ducks that hated water?? How could this be?
Brent and I gently put Mr. Smith into the water and he immediately scrambled back out as we exchanged puzzled grins. We fed them close to the water and they started to lean in closer to take a drink while eating. Good. Good. We left them munching and jumped into the pool swimming over frequently to look at the pair who had now settled on the bank of the pond for a nap.
An hour later Brent was working on the tractor and I wandered over to check on the Smiths. They got up and excited greeted me with little squeeks and happy tail wags. They still had fuzz. I carefully placed Mr. Smith in the pond and he floated for a moment before giving me a sideway look. I quickly put Mrs. Smith in beside him and with a few quacks they swam out a little.
The couple swam out and back a few times before they realized how much fun the water was and how many bugs were on the surface. It took only a few minutes of swimming before Mrs. Smith dove under. I clapped and yelled for Brent to come and see the Smiths maiden voyage.
We stood together as the sun set with camera in one hand and glass of wine in the other and watched our ducks discover the joys of swimming. They dove and came up covered in green slime, which they quickly decided to eat.
The pond has never been cleaner, nor the ducks happier. There is some poop and the dogs will give a little chase now and then, but the Smiths retreat to the safety of the pond.
Each morning I find the Smiths waiting for me at the fence line for their food and they race waddle over to the Pool House for their breakfast. The dogs usually follow me and watch as the ducks eat, drink and then settle in for their morning nap.
This morning I found the Smiths napping under my patio table by the back door on the flagstone patio. There's duck poop in the back room and signs of duck-like investigations. I guess I was too slow with breakfast this morning and they came looking for me. I hope they don't learn how to work the dog door. I wouldn't mind them in the house except for the constant pooping really intimidates me.
"I love that quiet time when nobody's up and the animals are all happy to see me." Olivia Newton-John
Muscovy ducks from South America are natural fly catchers and the only non-mallard relations in our area.
The baby ducks came to us one at time, but never have we seen a truer love affair blossom. Mrs. Smith came first and was a little shy. Chicken Nugget was not exactly welcoming, but the other farm animals were not threatened by her fuzzy body. Fearful she would be mistaken as a snack we kept her in the bunny hutch for safety.
By Sunday afternoon Mr. Smith arrived and Mrs. Smith immediatley cuddled tightly to her mate. I was enchanted. They were very friendly and affectionate with each other and with people. They like to eat out of your hand and will follow you around in hopes of more snacks.
We started the pair living with the chicken, pigs, goats and bunnies; but something didn't seem quite right. We had this great pond and I felt that's where they belonged.
I was concerned because there are times the dogs have access to this area. Brent was concerned they'd make a mess of the pond, eat the fish and poop everywhere.
Once the proper introductions were made it seems the dogs and ducks got along fine. Now that the ducks are twice the size of the dogs it doesn't seem to be much of a problem. Mr. Smith is very protective of his mate and will give Poco a necessary snap now and then - this works.
We don't notice too much poop around the pond and they haven't taken to eating the fish yet. Poco is the only one who seems interested in the ducks and their poop. The very first day the ducks came to live in the pond Poco found a small pile of poop and rolled around in it until his back was liberally coated in a slimy stench. Thankfully he fits in the utility tub.
Initially the ducks were not keen on their new environment. They stayed by the fence line waiting and staring at their previous home. We lured them closer to the pond with duck chow, but they would not venture into the water. Did I have ducks that hated water?? How could this be?
Brent and I gently put Mr. Smith into the water and he immediately scrambled back out as we exchanged puzzled grins. We fed them close to the water and they started to lean in closer to take a drink while eating. Good. Good. We left them munching and jumped into the pool swimming over frequently to look at the pair who had now settled on the bank of the pond for a nap.
An hour later Brent was working on the tractor and I wandered over to check on the Smiths. They got up and excited greeted me with little squeeks and happy tail wags. They still had fuzz. I carefully placed Mr. Smith in the pond and he floated for a moment before giving me a sideway look. I quickly put Mrs. Smith in beside him and with a few quacks they swam out a little.
The couple swam out and back a few times before they realized how much fun the water was and how many bugs were on the surface. It took only a few minutes of swimming before Mrs. Smith dove under. I clapped and yelled for Brent to come and see the Smiths maiden voyage.
We stood together as the sun set with camera in one hand and glass of wine in the other and watched our ducks discover the joys of swimming. They dove and came up covered in green slime, which they quickly decided to eat.
The pond has never been cleaner, nor the ducks happier. There is some poop and the dogs will give a little chase now and then, but the Smiths retreat to the safety of the pond.
Each morning I find the Smiths waiting for me at the fence line for their food and they race waddle over to the Pool House for their breakfast. The dogs usually follow me and watch as the ducks eat, drink and then settle in for their morning nap.
This morning I found the Smiths napping under my patio table by the back door on the flagstone patio. There's duck poop in the back room and signs of duck-like investigations. I guess I was too slow with breakfast this morning and they came looking for me. I hope they don't learn how to work the dog door. I wouldn't mind them in the house except for the constant pooping really intimidates me.
"I love that quiet time when nobody's up and the animals are all happy to see me." Olivia Newton-John
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Escape
It was during the heat wave in July that they escaped. I remember because I hadn't caved yet to turn on the air conditioning in the house and was sitting having a little lunch in the living room when I saw my neighbour's red head race by the window quickly followed by a large pig and two goats.
I was wearing clothes only worthy of house cleaning and my neighbour was wearing a bathsuit as we met at the back door. She was laughing (thankfully) as she said: "your pig is in my garden".
She helped me round up the goats and get them back into the pen, but Charlotte was being stubborn and standing by the dog pen. Time was of the essence, so I herded her into the dog pen and locked the gate.
My neighbour and I raced acrossed the eighty km/hr road to her house set back about one hundred feet from the street. There was my Ginger happily munching my neighbour's hostas. We had a plastic container with grain and managed to lure little pig all the way to the road where we stopped traffic and cross. Two scantily clad women graciously herding a small fifty pound pot bellied pig across Bowen Road in our small rural town.
A lady in a truck drove by and yelled out the window "I thought only my horses escaped like this".
Ginger went right back into her pen like she knew the adventure was over and it was nap time. My neighbour and I were sweating and gasping in the heat wave, but laughing as we watched the escapees.
She asked how they got out and I had to admit that I left the door unlocked. They just walked through it.
After an offer of wine and many thanks my neighbour returned to her house to finsih setting up her pool and I turned to face Charlotte who was staring at me from within the confines of the dog pen. The dogs were going insane and Charlotte was pacing the fenceline.
How was I going to get her across the driveway and back into the barn? It was time to test my herding skills.
It took two long sticks that I used to lengthen my arms and a lot of chasing before I finally got Charlotte into the barn. At one point we were both huffing and sweating, fending off deer flies and staring with pure dislike at each other in the back field. We went back and forth from front to backyard several times until I finally got her inside the barn.
With a triumphant cheer I closed the barn door and knew it would be easy to get her into the stall. Charlotte collasped in cool mud puddle and I dove fully clothed into the pool. In the end we're not so different after all.
I was wearing clothes only worthy of house cleaning and my neighbour was wearing a bathsuit as we met at the back door. She was laughing (thankfully) as she said: "your pig is in my garden".
She helped me round up the goats and get them back into the pen, but Charlotte was being stubborn and standing by the dog pen. Time was of the essence, so I herded her into the dog pen and locked the gate.
My neighbour and I raced acrossed the eighty km/hr road to her house set back about one hundred feet from the street. There was my Ginger happily munching my neighbour's hostas. We had a plastic container with grain and managed to lure little pig all the way to the road where we stopped traffic and cross. Two scantily clad women graciously herding a small fifty pound pot bellied pig across Bowen Road in our small rural town.
A lady in a truck drove by and yelled out the window "I thought only my horses escaped like this".
Ginger went right back into her pen like she knew the adventure was over and it was nap time. My neighbour and I were sweating and gasping in the heat wave, but laughing as we watched the escapees.
She asked how they got out and I had to admit that I left the door unlocked. They just walked through it.
After an offer of wine and many thanks my neighbour returned to her house to finsih setting up her pool and I turned to face Charlotte who was staring at me from within the confines of the dog pen. The dogs were going insane and Charlotte was pacing the fenceline.
How was I going to get her across the driveway and back into the barn? It was time to test my herding skills.
It took two long sticks that I used to lengthen my arms and a lot of chasing before I finally got Charlotte into the barn. At one point we were both huffing and sweating, fending off deer flies and staring with pure dislike at each other in the back field. We went back and forth from front to backyard several times until I finally got her inside the barn.
With a triumphant cheer I closed the barn door and knew it would be easy to get her into the stall. Charlotte collasped in cool mud puddle and I dove fully clothed into the pool. In the end we're not so different after all.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Nemo
The farm is filled with rejects: the infertile goat, the pushy little pig, the discarded chicken, cats that wheeze, dogs with bad legs, bad eyes and bad tummies. One of our most loved and interesting creatures was another farm reject named: Nemo.
Nemo is a goldfish who lived with his best friend Spice in a fifty gallon tank in my living room. I feed the fish and watch them swim. I listen to the water falling from the filter and find myself relaxing. I like having the goldfish, the kids who visit the farm are always fascinated and the adults can't help but comment on Nemo.
Several years ago we noticed Nemo wasn't swimming very well and over the next few weeks he stopped growing on the one side of his body. The left side fin was half the size of his right side fin and Nemo was swimming in circles. My family and friends kept telling me this fish was going to be dead any day, but they seemed to admire his determination to survive. People would ask me if Nemo was still alive and for years I was able to offer them a happy affirmative.
The average lifespan of a goldfish living in a heated indoor aquarium is about 5-10 years, and little broken Nemo made the five year mark before he finally died on July 14, 2010.
Nemo was a simple fish who compelled us to think about internal strife and courage. He inspired fascination, interest, curiosity and speculation. Nemo made people think about life, struggle and success. In his own special fishy way Nemo made people feel good.
Spice is swimming around her tank, but you can tell her heart isn't into the movement. She's a little tired and she keeps returning to the spot where Nemo finally settled. Eventually, she'll move forward, but like all difficult losses the only thing that helps is time.
Part of the problem with surrounding myself with so many heartbeats is their lifespan tends to be much less than mine, but the grief I feel at their loss is worth every happy day and happy smile. Each time I lose one of my beloved animals I create a little place for them in my heart and mind providing them with all the things they loved. I get to picture them happy and healthy surrounded by everything that brought them joy.
I picture Nemo swimming in crystal clear waters surrounded by live plants where the food is plentiful, the company is friendly and the filtration system is top notch.
Happy swimming Nemo, we'll miss you.
Nemo is a goldfish who lived with his best friend Spice in a fifty gallon tank in my living room. I feed the fish and watch them swim. I listen to the water falling from the filter and find myself relaxing. I like having the goldfish, the kids who visit the farm are always fascinated and the adults can't help but comment on Nemo.
Several years ago we noticed Nemo wasn't swimming very well and over the next few weeks he stopped growing on the one side of his body. The left side fin was half the size of his right side fin and Nemo was swimming in circles. My family and friends kept telling me this fish was going to be dead any day, but they seemed to admire his determination to survive. People would ask me if Nemo was still alive and for years I was able to offer them a happy affirmative.
The average lifespan of a goldfish living in a heated indoor aquarium is about 5-10 years, and little broken Nemo made the five year mark before he finally died on July 14, 2010.
Nemo was a simple fish who compelled us to think about internal strife and courage. He inspired fascination, interest, curiosity and speculation. Nemo made people think about life, struggle and success. In his own special fishy way Nemo made people feel good.
Spice is swimming around her tank, but you can tell her heart isn't into the movement. She's a little tired and she keeps returning to the spot where Nemo finally settled. Eventually, she'll move forward, but like all difficult losses the only thing that helps is time.
Part of the problem with surrounding myself with so many heartbeats is their lifespan tends to be much less than mine, but the grief I feel at their loss is worth every happy day and happy smile. Each time I lose one of my beloved animals I create a little place for them in my heart and mind providing them with all the things they loved. I get to picture them happy and healthy surrounded by everything that brought them joy.
I picture Nemo swimming in crystal clear waters surrounded by live plants where the food is plentiful, the company is friendly and the filtration system is top notch.
Happy swimming Nemo, we'll miss you.
Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength. Arnold Schwarzenegger
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Pool
May was really hot. Silly august-like hot and Brent confesses that he's always wanted a pool. I suppress a deep sigh and nod. If you can find one on sale or previously owned I agree. His stipulation is that the pool has a salt water system.
The next day Brent shows me a kijiji ad for a portable above ground pool for sale with a salt water system in Vineland. How does this guy find this stuff?? We make the journey to Vineland and surprise, surprise we come home with a four foot by sixteen foot portable pool.
All this in the mist of trying to get things done for the party. If this isn't quite enough work my dad and Brent put their heads together and decide they want to put the pumps in the pool house (previously known as the pig house) and they start digging. They bury the water lines for at least fifteen feet into the building. Didn't I know that the pumps will last longer inside?
The following weeks including changing pumps, dealing with multiple leaks, flooding the pool building (to the duck's delight) and losing so much water out of the pool that we have to close the pool for several days until it rains and we can re-fill it.
One hot, muggy 98 degree day in the second week of July the two of us jumped in the pool naked. Broad daylight in the middle of the afternoon and it felt naughty. It was wonderful and well worth all the work, leaks, struggles and water. We delighted in the pool and, even better, in each other. Brent said the pool had paid for itself in that one amazing afternoon dip.
I felt like I was eleven as we made a powerful whirlpool by running clockwise in the water. We hung over the edge and stared into the pond waterfall. We drank a bottle of wine. We hugged underwater, kissed and felt so close.
So, maybe, those thing that cause us the most trouble, leaks and money are the things worth the most?
I'll remember that magical afternoon the day of our wedding and know that I have no need for cold feet in a ninety-five degree pool.
It reminds me of this song... If you like pina coloda's. Getting caught in the rain. If you like making love at midnight and the taste of champagne.... to find each other in surprising new ways each day.
The next day Brent shows me a kijiji ad for a portable above ground pool for sale with a salt water system in Vineland. How does this guy find this stuff?? We make the journey to Vineland and surprise, surprise we come home with a four foot by sixteen foot portable pool.
All this in the mist of trying to get things done for the party. If this isn't quite enough work my dad and Brent put their heads together and decide they want to put the pumps in the pool house (previously known as the pig house) and they start digging. They bury the water lines for at least fifteen feet into the building. Didn't I know that the pumps will last longer inside?
The following weeks including changing pumps, dealing with multiple leaks, flooding the pool building (to the duck's delight) and losing so much water out of the pool that we have to close the pool for several days until it rains and we can re-fill it.
One hot, muggy 98 degree day in the second week of July the two of us jumped in the pool naked. Broad daylight in the middle of the afternoon and it felt naughty. It was wonderful and well worth all the work, leaks, struggles and water. We delighted in the pool and, even better, in each other. Brent said the pool had paid for itself in that one amazing afternoon dip.
I felt like I was eleven as we made a powerful whirlpool by running clockwise in the water. We hung over the edge and stared into the pond waterfall. We drank a bottle of wine. We hugged underwater, kissed and felt so close.
So, maybe, those thing that cause us the most trouble, leaks and money are the things worth the most?
I'll remember that magical afternoon the day of our wedding and know that I have no need for cold feet in a ninety-five degree pool.
It reminds me of this song... If you like pina coloda's. Getting caught in the rain. If you like making love at midnight and the taste of champagne.... to find each other in surprising new ways each day.
Engagement Celebration
We worked for months on getting the farm ready for our party when in reality we were using the party as an excuse, or rather a motivator, to do the things we've been meaning to do. Nothing gets you moving on a project like a dead line.
The day finally came and we were so excited to share our celebration and begin the next phase: wedding planning.
I woke up early and Brent and I decided to both run to the beach to pick up the ice cooler (I think it's an old hot tub that keeps tons of ice fresh) and our 31' travel trailer. We left my dad patching the roof and Billy decorating.
Other friends trickled in to help set up. A special thanks to Jane, Jill, Lisa, Billy, Brent and my Dad. I don't know that we would have pulled this off with as much dignity without the daily assistance from my Dad. What a guy. I just finished watching a movie "The Book of Eli" and the female lead asks Eli (who has been reading the bible for thirty years) what he's learned: "do for others more than you do for yourself". I learned this same lesson time and time again from my father. Pride.
The party starts at 3pm and at 2:30 I rush into the shower and hope to not be naked by the time my guests start to arrive. Thankfully, most of my friends are late.
It was magic. Amazing. One of the best days of my life. Thank you to all those who attended and all those who had intentions of attending. There were so many moments I stopped and look around to see the kids playing in the pool, with the bunnies and petting a pig that I was filled with a wonderful sense of pride. I watched two young lovers swing in the hammock and knew we'd made a good place.
The food was fantastic and the drink flowed well into the morning. I remember talking to so many people and not enough at the same time. I remember sitting on my kitchen floor at 3am with my best girlfriend Karen begging Brent to make me a cheesy sausage and then going to bed before he had it cooked.
The homemade cake my friend Kathleen brought complete with bride, groom and three puppies filled me with joy. Special thanks to Lisa and Brenda for working the bar in style.
The whole experience was one of the best of my life. I couldn't have done it without my love, and best of all he couldn't have done it without me.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter... our wedding... coming September 18th around 4ish...
The day finally came and we were so excited to share our celebration and begin the next phase: wedding planning.
I woke up early and Brent and I decided to both run to the beach to pick up the ice cooler (I think it's an old hot tub that keeps tons of ice fresh) and our 31' travel trailer. We left my dad patching the roof and Billy decorating.
Other friends trickled in to help set up. A special thanks to Jane, Jill, Lisa, Billy, Brent and my Dad. I don't know that we would have pulled this off with as much dignity without the daily assistance from my Dad. What a guy. I just finished watching a movie "The Book of Eli" and the female lead asks Eli (who has been reading the bible for thirty years) what he's learned: "do for others more than you do for yourself". I learned this same lesson time and time again from my father. Pride.
The party starts at 3pm and at 2:30 I rush into the shower and hope to not be naked by the time my guests start to arrive. Thankfully, most of my friends are late.
It was magic. Amazing. One of the best days of my life. Thank you to all those who attended and all those who had intentions of attending. There were so many moments I stopped and look around to see the kids playing in the pool, with the bunnies and petting a pig that I was filled with a wonderful sense of pride. I watched two young lovers swing in the hammock and knew we'd made a good place.
The food was fantastic and the drink flowed well into the morning. I remember talking to so many people and not enough at the same time. I remember sitting on my kitchen floor at 3am with my best girlfriend Karen begging Brent to make me a cheesy sausage and then going to bed before he had it cooked.
The homemade cake my friend Kathleen brought complete with bride, groom and three puppies filled me with joy. Special thanks to Lisa and Brenda for working the bar in style.
The whole experience was one of the best of my life. I couldn't have done it without my love, and best of all he couldn't have done it without me.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter... our wedding... coming September 18th around 4ish...
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