Bye Bye Miss American Cutie Pies

Kinda sad shutting down the babies’ nursery today, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d never leave them overnight with the very (goat) babies they were born to protect.  The first of them leave tomorrow, for farms of their own. Gotta start somewhere/ sometime…For these babies, now is that time.

            Again, my heart goes out to every mother who ever sent a child off to school…every parent who helped move a child into a college dorm while holding back tears. I mean, I guess I kinda knew your pain. But leave it to my funky wiring to require a bunch of polar bear puppies to drive the point home.         

             Outside of this sentimental reflection, it was a typical, albeit curious day here on the farm…

      Neighbor kids spent the night last night (after all, we only have so many more puppy-cuddling hours) meaning mornings got started a tad bit late (but with extra lovin’ farm hands on hand, so that part was good). Friends I’d been meaning to catch up with…we finally caught up (nothing like a cloud of puppies to make promised intentions become reality). In between were farm-type errands: rooms to clear, towels to wash,  errands to run (dog food, goat chow, and people-groceries for when neighbor kids and friends come by next time) …Again, life’s a cycle, not a line.

            But the funniest part of all was when my neighbor (whose yard Rosey considers part of her turf to protect) came over to bring the goats leftover bread and cereal. It had barely turned dark; all I know is while shifting pups from cutely padded nursery rooms to outdoor barns and cedar bedding, I saw a figure come down my drive, the likes of which set the big dogs off to barking ferociously.

            Not being able to make out the face, I hollered, “Hey There…Who is it?”  (I hollered it twice.) Only I heard no reply. And then the figure was no more.

            Having endured a break in once in my life (a scenario I may or may not write about, as it totally changed my outlook on life, my concept of fear, guns and self protection as my own animal instincts proved more wired to protect than I realized), I raced inside, set the alarm, reaching first for my cell second for my glock, only to find myself calling the very person who was coming down the drive to bring bread and cereal to my baby goats.

            Curious the animal instincts that come packaged with these souls of ours…

            An oddly, ironic and yet poignant moment, as my friend (thankfully alive and hopefully laughing at this blog) helped me position pups into their new outdoor pup house “just so” with Rosey strategically positioned (and as of this moment, barking once again) at the lone howl of coyotes in the distance. (Maybe I’ll keep that gun by the door just in case.)