Due to Dax's phobic reaction to the alarm going off at 5 AM, he gets me up by 4:30 in the mornings now. Once, he even ran back into the bedroom and hit the snooze button.
Seeing as structured runs are really working for him, we've replaced Boonies free for alls with military runs with drill sergeant Mom morning and night.
As soon as I finish setting up the new GoPro my mom and stepdad sent me for Christmas, I will indulge you.
This is the result of our dawn runs:
Dax on his docking station.
I can be working anywhere on the property, Peter and Garrett sit close by patiently waiting, in a truck, utility vehicle, at a back door, in the barn aisle, at the edge of a field... my guardian angels.
The Other One will need years to earn those wings.
Yet, on this Christmas Eve, Dax is earnestly trying to be good.
Ever helpful in the barn.
As I had to drop a vehicle off at the other end of the property today, he and I ran back to the barn.
And we snuck in a short run before dusk too. Before our official Reveillon evening could begin, Dax had checked out.
Considering the heart pounding 30 minutes the horses gave me before clocking out today, I should be comatose beside him.
My 2000 lb Angus must've applied a butt cheek to the gate of his and Axel's feeding pen tonight, because I found a broken snap and no horses in the pen.
I did see a big black horse running away in the woods with a little, geriatric, partially blind in one eye side kick on his heels.
This is where the old utility vehicle that normally hates me gives me the ultimate Christmas gift. Old Green turns into the General Lee.
I try 4 times to head the horses off. Getting airborne once at this point:
Poop my britches a second time trying to keep them from running up the drive and out the power line clear cut.
I finally divert them at the main gates, which thankfully are locked. What a prison break!
Can I ever get to my tourtieres tonight??? Meat pies for you Hhh-English (proper French pronunciation). Quebeckers love to mess with English H's. We put 'em where they don't belong (Hhh-insurance) and remove them where you want them ( Igh school). Cultural sabotage.
I bought a super lean pork tenderloin and ground it up this week.
Made my tourtiere base with it...
Resulting in two pies for me and 3 for the dogs.
One pie was destined for the freezer and never made it. Tourtiere is my absolute favorite food. I've been eating it, without fail, morning, noon and night for over two days. Leaving me half a pie for my Reveillon. A pittance, but Miss Piggy will manage.
And if I'm still dying of hunger, I have Oklahoma horse cookies.
So, tonight, I unwrap some presents I left under my Christmas tree (don't squint, it's a small tree shaped candle, but it's MY tree) while polishing off the remaining half tourtiere.
For almost a decade, it's been my unwavering tradition to gather with Cole and the other pups, lay on a blanket on the ground and watch the Grinch Who Stole Christmas... and wait for the crying to start at my favorite part:
So, if you can't be with those you love this year, love the one's you're with.
We won't be watching The Grinch tonight. Three dogs in my bed are snoring away in tourtiere bliss and I'm grabbing a new book, heading their way and starting a fresh Christmas tradition.
May your Christmas be bright, from the tiny outpost in Dixie, be well.
