Fergus then and now

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FERGUS!   One year old on November 13th.

Stella

 From this cantankerous, un-huggable little minx a few months ago :

To this:

This is why I do rescue.

Stella Smith, English Pointer, famous for digging expeditions, intolerant of the cold, feline and svelte.

Change is Hard

 She's gone.

After almost 20 years, my Big Girl is going on to help somebody else.

Ever list something for sale and hope no one calls?  My horse trailer was used for rescues.  That's what I wanted her to keep doing. Two women with rescued draft horses offered me the asking price.  One in Nevada, the other North Alabama.  Don't say it's a no-brainer; you don't know how I can complicate things.  The climate in Nevada is better for a 65 year old steel trailer, but the buyer in North Alabama has an equipment shed.  I was prepared to drive to meet the Nevada buyer halfway. Would the Alabama buyer know how to maintain it? 

I discover her husband is a fellow MOPAR nut who's restoring an old muscle car she said. Sold.  With less than a total of 4 hours of sleep in 48 hours (back-to-back school projects), I take off for 12 hours on the road, one last haul.  I get to the buyer's house and make a bee line for the covered car and take a peek.  I almost pee my pants:  a 1971 Plymouth Road Runner.  I know a B-Body MOPAR when I see one. 

If I won the lottery, I'd be rolling down the road with my favorite car of all-time:  1969 Dodge Super Bee.  

Unfortunately, this one already sold for 145k.  I've driven a fancy 125k Mercedes SUV, meh.  A 440 engine with 4 speed manual transmission versus a computerized box on wheels. No brainer.  But, I digress.... my trailer....

Yes, I abandoned my trailer and weaved my sobbing self back home.  Not before giving her some last smooches.

Thanking her for being the house I lived in for 6 months while building my house, for always keeping my oxen and horses safe, for being my partner in hauling horses from kill pens and abusive situations.

Her new owner just pulled an overworked monstrous Belgian from a Wisconsin kill pen.  She definitely needs the extra tall front stall.  

And just like that, I turn the page and start another chapter in my life.  Change is hard.  I will grieve the loss of the iconic trailer for another week, then I'll put my big girl pants on and move forward with the next Plan.

Pyrosky

 Pyrosky:  new designer breed of dogs; achieved by mixing a Husky, Great Pyrenees, Pit Bull and Boxer?.

DNA tests always surprise me! 

What do you think?  Do we have a winner?

Meet Cash.  A 12 year old guy who was the shelter's longest resident.  Troy Animal Rescue Project pulled two old strays out of a Southern Alabama pound two years ago.

Hard to believe it's the same dog.  The shelter worked hard to treat his mange and other ailments; they tried everything to make him look adorably adoptable, but no one came.

My specialty is elderly dogs.  I figured "what's one more?"

Mostly deaf, definitely vison impaired, still working on getting rid of the heartworms, still bald over his back from chronic mange, mouth full of broken teeth, nasty deep scars, he's not a designer dog.  

What he is: sweetest, most grateful dog ever.  

Welcome home, Cash.

Canada in a Flash

 My new boss insisted that I hit the reset button and take time to visit my family in Canada.  No need to offer twice.  I hadn't seen my parent in 4 years. A trip for 5 days, coming right up.  Make that really 3 plus 2 days of fun times at the airport.

Planning a last minute trip with 4 horses and 8 dogs at home ain't easy; tip of the hat to Adjanie who ran the entire farm by herself. And to Lisa who drove in from Auburn to play with the dogs and give cuddles.

Only my dad knew I was coming.  First stop: mom's place; with the house being remodeled, I grabbed a paint can and tools, then waltzed right in through the garage and pretended to work.  I know I was chancing giving her a heart attack, but she took it like a champ.

I proceeded to spend 3 quality days pigging out.

My stepdad and I went on tour and did some trail walking.

Fall foliage was at its peak color.  The days were warm, so warm that a pretty snake greeted us on the hike in Larose Forest.

I require my daily flora and fauna.

I even managed to catch up on homework.  

I dragged Mom and Chuck on a tour of historic Vankleek Hill (an excuse to find a double shot of espresso) and we found a thrift shop where I snagged a beard for 25 cents.

Even though my Dad was expecting me, I tried to fool him.  When I walked across his lawn, he yelled out: "No bums allowed".

I went from my mom's sleepy Ontario village, to my Dad's Quebec lakeshore Summer abode to Northern Quebec. All in one day.  Dad and I put some serious miles on the rental car.

We even surprised a cousin who was working in their yard at their lakehouse.  I love this covert travel business.  Our trip back to my aunt's house took us by our old lakehouse.  22 miles of dirt roads, the same roads I drove when I was 14 (rules weren't different in the 70s; parents were, I was the dedicated driver once we got out of Ottawa city limits).  

I'm not a lake person, I'm a field person.  I stopped to stare at this in wonderment.  I could picture 4 horses here.

Daddio and I ended up in another quaint Quebec village from my youth: Wakefield.  The old grist mill that was a run down derelict building in the 80s has become a 5 star spa and restaurant.  We splurged, it's not everyday you turn 51.

Best seat in the house overlooking the falls.  I appreciate the presentation of my entree, even though it still looks like they almost dropped the plate.  

My next victims: Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary.  They knew my dad was coming, but didn't realize he had brought a package from Alabama.

Life isn't about money and how much stuff you have, it's about the moments.  I will treasure the 3 days of memories spent with 6 members of my family.  My boss was right, this recharged my batteries.

The glorious sunsets at the farm look just that much more beautiful now.  I was glad to see all my babies again, even if there was a new face in my yard.

I can't make this up: a stray dug dug under the fence to join my pack in my absence.  Sweet Aussie mix boy needs a forever home (not my home, I'm overbooked here with 8, plus Pippins is going blind and is requiring extra care).  Anyone need a little lovebug?

Serious inquiries only, background checks applicable, adoption contracts sealed with the blood of your first born.  You know the drill.