Safe Behind a Shining Star

Feeling Okay, Hooman?

our walkway to the driveway

It’s been a cold and snowy winter with lots of barometric changes, which of course affect my health. The most I've been able to manage is some laundry, occasional meals, and taking Heath out in the dark and ice at 9 pm every night to put the sheep inside, as the Maremmas are now spending nights in the house as the boss complained he heard barking. Thank God for Heath's help, even with his untrained herding skills he gets the job done for me quickly. We inherited because TheMan blew a gasket one night, unable to get them to cooperate.

We undertook the 4 hour drive to town yesterday to see a shoulder specialist to find out why injuring my bicep by simply lifting my saddle a few months ago should have gotten increasingly worse until I could no longer use my right arm and having so much pain setting in my shoulder. It looks good so far, it’s soft tissue damage that is in the bicep tendon and created a lot of inflammation all the way up under the ball joint and down my arm, so a shot of cortisone in the joint may solve the problem. If not, a second might. and if that doesn’t do it, then we will look at surgical options but i am banking on the cortisone injections.

I had been able to pay off our credit card and Dr bills early so we went to a dealer and bought me a new car. It’s a little new, blue, Subaru and is just what I was looking for. Great gas mileage, 4 wheel or all wheel drive, a back-seat for the Heathen and room for his crate, my suitcase, and sundry other things so I can go on road trips and get away from the ranch I loved so dearly, but has been holding me prisoner because of my limitations. The incredible man I married isn’t thrilled about staying here alone and working for long periods of time, but he understands how this has affected me both physically, emotionally and spiritually. He could hardly miss the tears that leak out now and then. So now I have a few things to get done, like get my license plates, find my new drivers license, and purchase a few things to keep the Heathen in the back, as stuff coming up and hitting the undercarriage still frightens him badly and he jumps into the front, getting twisted and choked in his harness. Not a good scenerio.

We were talking about this yesterday, what an enormous change he has made in my life. I have always been shy, and always been a ‘loner’. Even when I was younger and in shape, I tended to avoid people, when possible. While showing horses for clients I was found either ringside coaching my kids, or at the barn grooming and warming up, but not socializing and having ‘fun’ like so many others. Perhaps that is why it seemed like such a chore. But hey, that’s me. Since getting sick, I have put on so much weight and aged so badly, that I have been ashamed to be seen, so I retreat to my shell and try not to even go out in front of the house unless I absolutely have to. The woman in the mirror is a stranger to me, and I’d rather keep her under wraps. But when going somewhere with Heath, people notice him instead, and talk about him, and my anxiety tends to melt away. And he does garner a huge amount of attention. I could never even consider doing these things without him.

Just in the 2 days we spent in town, all the folk at the dealership spoke to him, and even let him come on my test drive, in spite of the snow and his somewhat raggedy looking undercoat where dirty snow or water had splashed on his leg and belly feathers. He was of course, perfectly behaved and the salesman was impressed with how he jumped into the cargo hold when I asked and quietly laid there for the trip. After purchasing a different car and agreeing to pick it up the next day, we went to Texas Roadhouse for dinner. The smell of steaks and lots of distractions always make me worry, but I shouldn’t have. Other than wanting to forge ahead of me a little bit to try and meet a youngster passing us (he is absolutely wild about kids) we were seated at a booth across from an elderly couple. I was hoping he would behave like usual, as I was afraid that they might take offense to a dog in the restaurant. Instead, as they got up to leave, the lady tapped me on the shoulder to tell me that he is the best behaved dog she’s ever seen, and they appreciated how he went right under the table and laid quietly when I asked, in spite of all that was going on around us. I really appreciated the compliment to us both.

Heath lays under the table at Texas Roadhouse. His good behavior didn't go unnotced

Celebrating with steak, mmmm

We stayed at Holiday Inn Express in Boise, which I highly recommend. The staff is always super friendly and its always clean and nice. I was out front grabbing stuff out of the truck while Randy got us a room. I had Heath wipe his feet on the mat when entering, which is NOT his favorite thing to do. The man behind the desk said “Well, I guess I will have to take your word that he really is a service dog since his vest says so, even if you have no certification papers”. I asked if they’d been having dog problems and he said yes. I gave him an ADA card that explained there are NO papers on a service dog, they aren’t required to wear a vest, etc. and the easiest way to tell if they are for real is their behavior. It also informed him how to protect their business from an acclaimed service dog that is causing problems. He was really appreciative and said he was going to post the card in the meeting room so he could inform the rest of the staff. I felt good because there are a lot of people taking advantage which causes not only bad feelings toward real teams but increases problems for real teams as well as it can seriously unsettle and damage the confidence of a service dog, which is not allowed to defend himself, to be faced with a poorly trained, barky, aggressive, rude dog of any size or breed, especially when working.

Once in the room, my calm, reserved, well behaved sheppie turned into a whirling dervish, pleased to have had his boots and vest removed and had the two of us in hysterics with his antics. Other than waiting until I had my pjs on, (shorts and a t-shirt) to tell me he needed to go out and do his business…at 25 degrees F, he was a good boy. Out we went, me in my t shirt and snow boots and he  off leash with his happy on. I was only mildly frostbitten when we came back inside.

Next day at the doctors, several people commented and asked to pet him. I had to turn them down because he gets too distracted and wants to play with everyone. After awhile, a man came in, looked our direction for a moment then turned to the lady behind the admissions desk. She asked if she could do anything for him and he said “Yes, I want to buy that dog!” We laughed and I was again, really proud of Heath.

Next was Costco, where we were stopped several times and asked about his breed, then a man came up and said “It’s so nice to see a service dog BEHAVE like a service dog! I’ve trained dogs for 30 years and it’s not hard to recognize a phony or the real thing.” I was wow-ed. Again, none of the anxiety raised itself, because Heath was the focus of attention and I felt safe in the background behind his shining stardom.

What a dog!!

We were next faced with a 4 hour drive home in the dark, in the snow, in a vehicle I was not familiar with. I had a fair idea where the windshield wipers and defroster were as that was my key concern. I had already put the service dog stickers on the window so if we had a wreck, first responders would know to look for him and not to separate us. My car has one of those On-Star kinda deals so it tells me where I left it in the parking lot, if I forgot to lock it, if it's stolen, where it's at, and gets me help if I am broken down or in a wreck. A good option for me, I think. Now if they will just pass reciprocity so you can Concealed Carry across state lines so I am not vulnerable while driving long distances alone, waiting for help to show up in the event of an incident.


I was following TheMan in our embarrassingly dirty truck, knowing Blu Roo would look much like that when we made it home. It is, after all, a ranch, with 50 miles of dirt road leading there. I was pretty nervous,  unable to figure out how to work the radio or anything, and unable to take my eyes off the road, or my white knuckled fingers off the wheel. Only about 30 minutes out, we had a lot of road debris hitting the undercarriage which was unnerving Heath and throwing stuff onto my windshield. I couldn't find a sprayer for the front windows, so increased the wiper speed hoping to get it off. The defroster was running full blast and my vision was awful. Everytime there was an oncoming truck I had zero visibility as the whole windshield would go white. There was no white line on the side or lane markers in the center for that period of time. I kept praying they wouldn't pass me on a turn. We had to follow a snow plow into Jordon Valley and it didn't get any better. Finally, about 2 hours from home, I managed to signal TheMan to pull over at Rome Station as it was about the only place on the 4 hour trip to do so. It turns out the snow plow had put something down on the road that messed up our windshields on the outside so we could not see. He washed it several times and there was a marked improvement. I think both Heath and I hyperventilating probably didn't help the defroster any. I imagine that will probably be my worst trip in Roo, and I still love him, so it should be a brighter future for us, and no...I repeat...NO driving at night!

Pretty soon we will start travels in the Blu Roo. We’ll start small with a 5 hour drive to my brother and niece’s house, then build up to traveling farther for longer periods until I make it down to see my kids. The long, lonely winter is looking a lot better…now if I can just time it between record snow falls and flash floods….

Going Forward

Annie the goat was being mean, mean, mean to the Captain, so she and her cohorts were removed to a different pen. The next day, I found her in the chicken pen, stealing their food. I hobbled out as quickly as I was able and grabbed her up. She had effectively climbed up her cattle panel shelter and used it as a springboard to launch herself into the next corral, where she was free to go where she pleased. Randyman and I moved the fence to prevent any further escape. Two days later, I found her and her friends this time, BACK in the chicken pen once again. I grabbed her up and noticed the gate to their pen was wide open. I shoved them in and made sure it was latched properly. The following morning..they were out once again. Annie had figured out how to open the latch by herself. The gate is now CHAINED securely. If that doesn’t work, my only other option is an armed security guard.

She managed to completely redesign the shelter. 

This is why we cannot have nice things...

It’s been an interminably long month. Storm fronts have brought longer lasting pain and agony and so far there is no relief in sight. I had begged Miss EmmaLouMoo to wait until after we went to town for my infusions to have her calf. She did. She waited until about 20 min after we left. Not only did she not get my drift, she apparently also did not get the memo that I wanted a heifer.

So...meet Ed-a-bull. He’s wild as a March hair but has Emma’s sweet face, big eyes and long thick lashes, whereas, his sister has a rather ugly mug. Who said life was fair?

Prior to this my sweet niece and her son came visiting. Bruno pretty much threw me under the bus and was making over Ky every chance he got, and The Captain did the same. We had fun rendering tallow, eating, playing board games, playing with sheeple, shooting, and watching Ky practice with his crossbow. It was a great weekend.

Em went into ketosis shortly after calving. That is a metabolic disorder in which the output of the cow is greater than the intake and puts them in starvation mode. It is what her mother died from and I have been desperately trying to save her. I loaded her up and ran her into town to the vet where she got a bottle of dextrose IV and brought her home with a gallon of propylene glycol, to administer should she relapse. She did magnificently well for a week, scarfing down her grain and eating her hay like a champ, then relapsed. Nothing seemed to work. I was drenching her with the PG, getting myself slung around the milk room doing it, but managed to get it down her. The vet told me to only give it twice a day for two days and no more. She’s been battling us for a week, but we may be on the winning side now. She’s been out in deep pasture with Ed, and coming in at night to eat hay and grain. 

I went out to check on her tonite for the first time in a few days (TheMan has had to take care of everyone for me lately as I have been unable to do so myself). Her bag was fairly tight so I went ahead and milked out the 2 rear quarters. That was 3 gallons. She seemed happy and went back out to nibble on dinner then go eat grass.

I've been having to use a cane everywhere I go, so I can get back to the house again as pain and weakness have been a constant companion since our last trip to town. It's been determined that the infusion has not been working. (duh). Mister was kind enough to pick up my cane that I dropped and hand it back to me. It's Cider's job to do that, but he ran off to shop for cow pies. It's nice to know someone else has my back.

By day I have rendered 100 lb of tallow for making Whipped Body Butter to sell in the online store , as it is my biggest selling item. I am finding this the best time of year for me to use it as my hands get dry and chapped from pulling weeds and gardening. There are an impressive lineup of handmade soaps to sell now, and anyone wishing to buy several bars of mix and match for discount need to e-mail me with your choices as the website hasn't given me an option for that.

I am still working on getting in fencing for the chickens and radio fencing to contain the dogs by day so they can protect the sheep. All in all, it's a pretty big order just trying to get a few things done.

There have been some major challenges this year, with much sadness. More death in the family, which seems to be becoming a regular occurrence, with almost no time to allow my heart to heal. I've also lost some animal friends. As I lean more heavily on my faith and carry on I am  making some  decisions about the future. Some of these include downsizing and making it easier to get through my days, and easier for TheMan to get through his when I am too incapacitated to do my part, which has been more often than not, lately. These changes include selling the goats, this year's lamb crop and Miss EmmaLouMoo. I am hoping and praying that SushiMoo will be the cow I really need, as she will be my last. Mister is now out with the ranch cavvy and I am praying he does all right, as he fares poorly in a herd situation and at his advanced age it could have serious consequences.

The grass is greening up, a few flowers are making their appearance. Lilacs, tulips, pansies are doing their best to cheer me and remind me of the promise of Easter. As our Lord defeated death and the empty tomb gives promise of new life, so does spring come to lift my spirits. Death and loss and sickness and grief are parts of life on earth and none of us can avoid them, but so is new birth, life, beauty and awe. To paraphrase the apostle Paul, I must remind myself to "Think on these things…"

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Shaken

We processed the meaties and took all the lambs to the sale, as I cannot shear them, so we have made the decision to find some lower maintenance Katahdin hair sheep. We shipped the goat kids as well, since they are so hard to fence in and were always breaking into everything and generally making my day very stressful. I gave away my mare because I can no longer ride colts. Our nephew sold my other horse for me, so I am down to just good old Wimpy. He should be able to accommodate my growing weakness. My strength has deteriorated considerably over the past couple of years.

 Dolly, my sweet , sweet Jersey cow, died today. We never even got back from the vet. Her prognosis was fair. I had done all the right things for her. I was to watch her for a few days. I am profoundly sad. My laptop died and my internet does not work. I feel as though I am being sequestered in my sorrow and pain. All the loss in my life, seems magnified today.

 My world has been shaken.

I am already missing Dolly’s little crooked face and the funny way she walked.

 

 

 Time and again she made me laugh, as she lolled her tongue and looked like she was singing. She’d let me go sit with her while she laid in the shade under the trees and loved to have her brisket and shoulders scratched. She would stand like a statue while I milked her, although she was never good about 'letting down'. She always held some back for the calves. She hadn’t always been good, but we had grown together and I was sad to dry her off last year, as my milking time with her had become such a pleasure. Her cream was heavenly. She loved the Fall, when the apples all fell from the trees. She couldn’t wait to vacuum them up.

 

 

 

She was mean to the dogs, always. She loved ‘her’ babies, it didn’t matter whose they were, she loved on them, and fed them sacrificially. She raised countless leppies in her short little life of only 5 years.  She doted on Mo, even more than she had Emma. I loved the soft moo she had just for him. It was so tender and loving, it stirred my heart everytime I  heard it. She and Em were constantly licking on each other, and Dolly was forever licking little Mo.

 

To the world, she was just a cow, but she brought so very much to my life. Many cold winter nights were spent in the barn pouring my heart out to her. Leaning my head into her warm flank while she gave up her milk, listening to her rhythmic chewing, the soft sweet, grassy smell of her breath in my face brought comfort when heartbreak visited and revisited. Seeing her hiding in her little ‘tent’, which she loved, belching in my face when I would sneak up to see her, making me laugh. It tickled me to see how she strutted around in her ‘prom dress’ last winter, I was surprised because I didn’t think a cow would accept wearing a blanket in the winter, but she could hardly wait for me to put it on her. She’d lick it and stuff her head through the neck hole, hurrying me along.

 

 

On my treks through the tall weeds with the dogs, she would always peek out from her hiding place to say hello. She passionately loved her food, her life and her calves. She was a happy cow and she made me happy too.

Because of her, I learned to make soap and butter, sour cream and cheeses. She was the impetus to so many of the things that now make up my life. All the things that have saved me from pain and myself since I’ve been forced to accept physical limitation and the gut wrenching loss that comes with it, all were gifts from her.

I prayed all winter she’d be pregnant. Once I was sure of it, I prayed her delivery would go smoothly. I was terrified to lose her to milk fever or some other horrible malady. I loved this little cow. I wasn’t prepared for ketosis. Not with all the feed we had here. Not with the way she loved to eat. I was being so careful. She looked so good. She went into this calving looking better than ever.   

Sweet Dolly would mother every hungry calf that came to her. She stood patiently while her calf Mo, as well as the orphan calf we had grafted on Emma and Emma herself and her calf sucked the life out of her. She loved them and nurtured them until it began to ravage her own body as she continued to produce even more milk for them,  unable to keep up with the calorie demands she and they placed on herself.

I separated them all when I found out, but she would grieve and refuse food…standing outside the fence crying for them.  I finally removed her and put little Mo in the pasture with her far from them, where she couldn’t see anyone else. It was too late. She couldn’t recover.

She lost weight at an alarming rate. Even with the green grass and alfalfa available to her and all the extras I brought daily, begging her to eat, she kept getting thinner and weaker. We raced her to the vet, hours away. They found nothing else wrong with her, just the ketosis that had taken hold. After tubing her with a solution that would help energize her and turn the ketosis around, as the molasses had done in the past, we headed home, planning how we would best situate her to get her back on her feet. I was hopeful and grateful and confident she would get better soon.

My greatest fear became reality. She’s gone. Her poor wasted little body is laying out in my horsetrailer, waiting for Randy to come with the tractor and take her away. Despite our greatest efforts, my cajoling, my begging, my forcing sustenance into her with a stomach tube when necessary, she starved herself to death. She barely made it home. She was down when we went to unload her, unable to lift her head. I sat with her awhile, crying, begging and with resignation and great sorrow, I left her to die as comfortably as she was able. We had put Mo in front of the trailer, where he couldn’t nurse her, but she could hear him. The last sounds I heard her make, she called softly to him.

I miss you Dolly. You enriched my life in ways I could never have dreamed. We will continue on as before, Emma, Willy, Mo and I, but you will be fondly remembered and sorely missed.

 

We are not promised tomorrow. Even when we are hurting, we can thank Him for the gifts. Yesterday
is gone, but we can still have forever. Thank You Lord, for Dolly.

That Kind of a Day

 

Randy woke up at 4 am Saturday, screaming with pain. Due to my RA, and previous back surgery with 6 fractures and 2 ruptured discs, he usually feeds hay for me in the mornings in 4 different pastures, to the milk cows, leppy calves, horses, nurse-cows, goats and sheep.

After seeing his pain was not subsiding and agreeing on a plan of action, I proceeded to feed the hay myself, plus I fed the baby goats their bottles, fed the boss’ puppies, asked the ranch crew to feed my animals for us in our absence, as well as cover for Randy feeding the ranch cows, packed a suitcase and drove us the 4 hour trip to the emergency hospital in Boise. As I had been up until nearly midnite, it was difficult to make the drive and stay awake. After 16 years of marriage to the 'he-man", I rarely, if ever drive, so coming into traffic in Boise was a nerve wracking experience.

The tests were inconclusive, no explanation was discovered for his pain, which was still tremendous. He’d spent the day on morphine and now, at 9 pm, he was discharged and I drove us to fill the prescriptions, grab a bucket of chicken and find a room. An hour after falling asleep, I woke up with bites all over one leg, took a long, hot shower, and returned to the bed. I was bitten again. I grabbed the laptop to do some investigation and the ONLY motel in Boise accused of having bedbugs, was the one we were staying in. I quickly exited the bed and slept on top of the one Randy was in. He never got bitten. After a second nearly sleepless night, I grabbed the GPS, found a Costco and spent 1 hour grabbing a few supplies before racing back to get him out of bed before checkout time. I loaded up the truck again, and we started the long, 4-hour trip back home, arriving before dark.

I was told that everyone forgot to feed the baby goats in the morning, so someone had given them each a bottle and a half that afternoon. I asked if the milk-cows and others had been fed, and was told “I don’t know”. Everything seemed pretty hungry, so I went about feeding them a bit more than normal that evening and fell into bed.

I grudgingly got up early the following morning, still tired, to feed again. I had to clean the house, as the boss had asked if I could feed a mechanic that would be coming to the ranch. I got a meal into the crockpot, knowing there was NO way I could find time to make a conventional meal with all the animals I had to feed. After making a doctors appt. for Randy, due to his already running low on painkillers, I washed EVERYTHING that had gone with us in very hot water and into a very hot dryer, hoping if any bugs had hitched a ride with us, it would be their demise. Our nephew, one of the cowboys, was going to come to dinner also. By 8:00 that night, I realized no one was going to show up. Apparently the mechanic had busted a tooth somewhere, and our nephew, with his brutal schedule, had just plumb forgot.

Desperately tired, I woke up extra early in order to get all the animals fed before driving Randy in to the doctor in Burns, 2 hours away. As I started pitching hay to the milk cows, I noticed that Emma Lou was badly bloated. IN a panic, I ran to the barn to catch the cowboys and enlist their help. I explained she was bloated and I needed help to tube her down. Our nephew headed to the barn to grab a tube, me following. As I was explaining that I did NOT know how to do this, and he assured me the other cowboy did, that self same cowboy, who had been swearing at his dog, rocketed up the driveway with the horses in the trailer, leaving me standing in the dust. Our nephew, with an apologetic look on his face, went jogging up the hill after him. It was the last I saw of them.

Realizing Emma’s life depended solely on me, and I had almost NO time to treat her, I chased her around the pasture to get a halter on her. I drug her through several incredibly heavy gates to lock her head in the old stanchion and attempt to pass a tube down her throat, to no avail. Frustrated, angry, betrayed, and in tears now, I headed to the house and quickly mixed a bottle of bloat medicine into a calf tube bottle. After struggling for 20 minutes as she slung me around with her head, I managed to spill about a half pint into her mouth.

I took the truck up behind the big old barn and hooked up the big gooseneck horsetrailer, praying the whole time that I could get it done. Not being able to see the ball in the truck it was normal for me to spend a half hour or more trying to get it lined up. I nailed it the very first time, after lugging out a heavy spare tire. I painfully rolled the trailer down onto the ball in the bed of the truck, climbed into the back to lock the hitch and laid underneath the trailer to get the incredibly heavy jack-stand back up inside, as the spring had broken years earlier. I drove down to the house to get Randy and the dogs, and load EmmaLouMay Cow. I was taking her to the vet in town. When I went to load her, I could see she was noticeably better. The bloat med must have helped. I loaded her up, got Randy, Cider and Scottie-dog in the truck, drove up to the workshop to put more air in the tires, and grab a bale of shavings for Emma Lou to stand in, so the floor didn’t get slippery.

After spending the day in town between the hospital, the vet, and the ranch store, I had Randy call on his cellphone and leave a message for someone at the ranch to feed cows for me. The meds I had given Emma had taken her out of  critical condition and the vet was kind enough to give me lessons on how to pass a stomach tube by myself. I bought a big speculum to use and a more appropriate tube, loaded her up and headed back to the human hospital for more tests on Randy, leaving Emma in the trailer, unhooked, in front of the vet hospital. We received several questioning looks as I piled my purse, and my crochet needles and yarn, sodas, and miscellaneous other stuff I thought we might need, on his lap while I pushed him around in a wheelchair.

After everything was done in town, we went back to the vet clinic so I could hook up the trailer. Randyman had been driving all day, as he felt it was more comfortable for him. He sat in the drivers seat, while I hooked up the trailer, and got underneath it again to raise the heavy jack, as people drove past gawking and his reputation was quickly ruined.

We finally arrived back home two hours after dark…no one had received the message to feed for me.

I put Emma back in the pasture and spent the next 2 hours feeding animals in the dark, at 24 degrees. Prissy, the goat, had decided to stop feeding her buckling, so I got to add him to the list of bottle babies and now milking  twice a day is mandatory.

Tomorrow, I have to figure out how to move two 800-lb bales of hay, along with all the normal stuff.

Someday, I am sleeping in!