Remaining Cat
With daytime high temperatures this week hovering despicably close to winter levels, the urge to crawl back into bed and refuse to face the world is strong. Pequenita has no problem succumbing to the call of the nap, taking up a strategic position on the extra blanket that had been tossed in a bundle on our bed.
She has been highly visible since last Friday when we removed Mozyr from our home, and she seems to have picked up where he left off with regard to showing up anywhere I happen to be in the house. It’s hard to tell if she is happier having our attention all to herself, or if she is just showing up to question where the heck he is.
For the most part, she seems to be doing fine without Mozyr around. Even though it has left her as a solo cat in the house, it frees her from needing to navigate the sharing of food and litter boxes. I think she likes that.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Trailering Poop
We finally put our new ATV trailer to use for cleaning the paddocks. The ground seemed to dry up quite a bit yesterday, so we took advantage of the opportunity to drive inside the fences and made fair progress on removing more of the winter’s-worth of accumulation. We have been working in steps, cleaning small sections at a time as they become dry enough. Using the ATV in place of a wheelbarrow increases our capacity nicely, and while working to prove the concept, we knocked off a new portion in each of the two paddocks.
I am pleased with the horses comfort around motorized equipment. They are not intimidated in the least by the rumbling engines of the tractor or ATV. We left them roaming free inside the paddocks as Cyndie opened a gate for me to drive in. Here is a shot I took of Legacy as he stepped in close to check on the quality of my work.
We have yet to figure out the ideal method of unloading the trailer. The main location where we have been putting manure for compost has gotten rather tall, and isn’t currently situated so that I could drive up and over it. I have created a ramp within the pile that allows me to roll the wheelbarrow up and around for dumping, but that isn’t sized for the ATV trailer.
It was decided that we would expand our compost operation to multiple locations, placing more of the product in proximity to where it will likely be used. With the wheelbarrow, it didn’t make sense to go traipsing around the property to unload, but now with the ATV that is not a problem.
The first place we picked was across the driveway, up among the pine trees. There are enough trees there alone that we can probably spread the majority of our collection in that vicinity. We do want to provide a modest amount somewhere near the labyrinth garden, too, but Cyndie is concerned that it be far enough away so as not to disturb the pleasant ambiance we are trying to develop there. I think that can be achieved.
It feels good to be making gains on the cleanup of the paddocks as they begin to dry. Too bad today I am called away to the day-job and Wednesday is shaping up to be another winter storm. Poop trailering is on hold for a while again. It’s spring, two steps forward, one step back. We’ll get there, eventually.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Days Filled
Natural processes never pause. We had a very spring-like day yesterday, starting the morning with a classic thunder shower. By the end of the day, I couldn’t see any snow left on the ground as I walked the southern fence line to repair areas where Legacy practiced his penchant for dismantling things with his teeth. The frost hasn’t gone out of the ground yet, but already there are green sprouts emerging from the dirt.
A trek around the property is an overwhelming experience of discovering all the things that deserve attention. The trick is picking the best time for each task. The terrain is too wet for many activities, but the high ground is getting close to dry enough for equipment to drive over it without leaving giant ruts. Mornings can still offer frozen ground, which invites the possibility of driving over areas that will be too muddy later in the day. Any day could bring rain, or even snow, which will quickly cause a setback in the progress of drying out the land.
We need more gravel brought in, and will want to find fill dirt to bolster areas that were excavated last year and experienced some dramatic settling in the time since. With the ground as soft as it is, we cause more damage than we want if we ask for deliveries of sand, gravel, or dirt during this time of year. Instead, I’ve resorted to using some of the broken down winter manure and mud scraped up in the paddocks to fill one spot that settled. If it works out, there’s plenty more where that came from.
With nature forging ahead every minute without pause, it becomes imperative that we fill our days with activities to keep pace. There is no shortage of work to do to occupy our time. I find myself mentally battling dread that I am neglecting things here when I have a low energy day, finding myself short of motivation to take on the next task. It gets compounded when I consider that I also want to take personal time for getting miles on the bike and playing the guitar; two hobbies of several that I used to do when I had spare time for such exploits.
There is consolation in the fact that I enjoy the projects we have underway, and receive deep satisfaction from the improvements we achieve. It may be a false impression, but I think there should be less demands on our time in the long run, after we accomplish all the projects of shaping the land, installing fencing, and constructing rooms and sheds. In fact, we have more behind us than remains in front of us, with regard to those issues.
We are close enough to reaching a point of only needing to manage day-to-day operations such that I’m feeling hope it is within reach. It may be another year or two, but that’s not all that long in the span of a lifetime. In addition, it’s not something that just happens in an instant, so the work that fills our days now will subtly transition over time, becoming more routine and efficient, and thus, less all-encompassing.
Or, so I can try to convince myself.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Saying Goodbye
Mozyr has left the building. Last night Cyndie and I returned Moz to the Feline Rescue center where he first caught our attention. Mozyr initially impressed us with his athletic abilities, but from the time he arrived at our home, he proved to be a particularly timid fellow. For the longest time, under the bed was his favored place to recline.
In the end, Cyndie and I realized that he was not suited for the stress of moving outside to become a barn cat. He will do much better someplace where he can be the only pet, in a quiet home, which is just the opposite of the environment we have here at Wintervale.
I believe he was aware that we would be parting company. After we closed off his access to our bedroom, he became like a satellite to me everywhere else that I went in the house, weaving in and out and around and around my legs; hopping into my lap, or the sink again, as I stood at the bathroom mirror. I received more attention from him in the last two days than he had given me in months.
It was cute, but it didn’t change the difficulty he had with people coming and going, or Delilah’s rambunctious curiosity and the daily clamor of life in our house. He was too frequently on alert, behaving as if he was on the edge of peril. It was beginning to take a toll on his health, and he developed that pattern of peeing inappropriately around the house.
We are sad to see him go, but satisfied that he stands a better chance in a different situation. It is a relief to be able to open our bedroom door again, and get rid of the gate we have been tripping over to keep Delilah out of the cat spaces. Pequenita doesn’t need a gate to control Delilah. She has been doing a heroic job of practicing that for a long time. It is our hope that those two will now settle into a more congenial one-on-one relationship.
So, goodbye, Mozyr. May you find someplace you feel safe enough to thrive and romp and unleash your impressive athletic maneuvering, while sharing your friendly, companionable self with one special person who loves you. You are a special cat.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Construction Complete
We are pleased and excited to have accomplished changes to the basement of our house that we have envisioned since we first arrived. I talked frequently with family and friends about the idea of ripping out the corner entertainment center and building a larger storage room with a door, fishing for insight on what might be involved and whether it was something I could do myself. Then our window upstairs fractured.
That was the catalyst that initiated my search for someone in our vicinity who could do home construction projects. The job to replace the window was such a minor project that it wasn’t all that attractive to a builder, but when I threw in the possibility of also building a storage room downstairs, I found someone to take the bait. It was a perfect match.
Dodge Construction is one semi-retired Randy Dodge, who lives nearby and has built many homes. I was pointed to Randy by the local Andersen Window dealer, who gave the builder a stellar recommendation —believable because Randy built the dealer’s house. On top of having a career’s worth of skills, Randy happens to be a great guy. We agreed on a verbal definition of the project and locked in the deal with a handshake. Logic would dictate that is not a safe way to do business, but my instincts indicated there was little risk in this case.
Randy and his frequent accomplice, Isaac, knocked out the project with relative ease, repeatedly revealing tools and skills that made me exceedingly grateful to have not tried to do this myself. Plus, they designed on the fly, leading to improvements and enhancements that were well beyond my ability to conceive.
While we had them here, we asked if they might finish two rough openings that remained to our sunroom, where we had pulled out windows when we first moved in.
Randy took one look at that and suggested we consider a Formica surface across the bottom. He said he would look for something that might work. I was shocked to see that he brought us a section of counter top that was amazingly similar to our kitchen granite counters, relying solely on his memory. The finished product looks fabulous.
So, we have a new window, newly finished pass-through openings to the sunroom, and a completely finished storage room of built-in shelves in the basement. It is time to begin cleaning up sawdust, sheetrock dust, and putting things back into storage. This time, on shelves!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Contemplating Possibilities
We now have an appointment for Friday to bring Mozyr back to the rescue center from which he was adopted. It is a tough call, but our decision to schedule an appointment has been helped by the discovery that, in addition to trashing our mattress and bedding, he has also cost us a leather couch and chair in our basement.
When we started the construction project to add that storage room in the basement, the guys covered everything in plastic. Earlier, Cyndie and I had been suspicious about residue we found on the couch, but now that there was plastic over it, we could clearly see how much, and how often he was using the couch to pee.
Mozyr and Pequenita sharing sunshine prior to his banishment from our bedroom
I placed some things on the couch to interfere with him, and he simply moved over to the chair and ottoman. The storage room of shelves is now complete, and all the plastic has been removed from the basement. Since Mozyr has lost his master bedroom privileges, he seems to have resorted to using the recently exposed couch. Now we have to get rid of it.
One of the most troublesome aspects of this situation for me is that I don’t see how we could ever trust him again. If he recovers from whatever urinary distress he has been suffering, how would we know if his behavior has returned to normal? I am not interested in having our bed put at risk for some unknown period (how long would be long enough?) of testing his ability to confine his peeing to the litter boxes. And I definitely cannot afford the sleep disruptions that his shenanigans on our bed have been causing.
While writing this, I had the thought that we could put the soiled couch out in the barn. A little cat pee would be nothing in that environment. That thought led to this: maybe Mozyr could become a barn cat. He still has all his claws. We’ll see what the rescue center thinks of that idea.
Look out, mice.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Not Funny
I wish I could laugh about it, but we are suddenly prisoners of our cat Mozyr. Whatever the heck his urinary tract problem is, the solution he seems to have selected is to pee on our bed. More specifically, Cyndie’s side of our bed. Could he be sending her a message? I don’t know.
Poor guy. We know he is not well. After a vet visit on Monday, we have special food to give him, and he was given fluids, and also something for pain. His response is to turn his nose up at the food, and to pee on our bed. Seriously, three times Monday night. The second time, while Cyndie was sleeping. That chased her out to the couch in the middle of the night. In the morning, while I was still in bed, sitting up with my computer, I suddenly realized he was sitting on the bed next to me. That can’t be good. Sure enough, he had peed, soaking through to the mattress. I guess the hydration at the vet worked.
It gave us a great excuse to do some serious spring cleaning. Too bad that we had already just done this over the previous weekend, due to the same problem.
I waited all day before putting the mattress back down, because I just didn’t want to give him another opportunity. When Cyndie got home, she pulled out a clean mattress pad and tossed it on the box springs that I had laid back into position.
I walked into the room to lay the mattress back on the box springs, and picked up the pad to move it. Mozyr had just peed on it. That pad hadn’t been there more than a few minutes. I’ve spoken to two people who told me that a cat would be out the door so darn fast if it had peed on their bed. I’m finding that I wish I had some of that in me.
On the bright side, it got me to dig out the clothesline for the first time this year.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Up Late
Stayed up late. Watched men’s college basketball championship. Result: I’m tired. Tired just watching them play. But, also tired of Mozyr being sick and peeing on our bed. Tired of mud in the paddocks. Tired of dirt from Delilah covering our floor. Tired of sawdust covering everything in the garage, and dust from sanded drywall covering everything in the basement.
At the same time, Mozyr has been more forward and friendly lately than any other time since the day we brought him home from the rescue shelter. The horses are coping well with our muddy mess. Delilah has been a total charmer of late. We have a fantastic new storage room in our basement.
It’s not all bad, even when it sometimes feels that way when you stay up late.
Speaking of our little charmer, here’s a picture for you… We noticed that Delilah had laid down for a nap with her head against the “chew toy” deer antler she brought home from the woods. She looks a bit like the cute little doggie from the cartoon of Dr. Seuss’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”
Mozyr earned an expensive visit to the Vet yesterday. We have prescription food for him now. He turned it down. I sure could use some enhanced skills in communicating with our animals. I’d like to hear what he has to say about his situation lately.
I wouldn’t mind hearing a little of what Delilah and the horses think, either.
I tried a new trick with one of the newer, small hay bales last night. We usually roll a wheelbarrow of hay to the feeders in the paddock, but with the ground so incredibly muddy, that hasn’t been working so well for us. In the hay shed, I was looking at a net and a hanging bag that we have used to move hay on occasion. I noticed the net is almost the size of a small bale, so I put one in and then tied the net tight with some bale twine. I tossed the netted bale into their feeder and let them go to town on it.
I think they were thrilled to have an entire bale of the good hay. I’m guessing it didn’t occur to them that they could only munch on small bites at a time, through the netting. It slows them down just enough that the bale lasts longer and there is less hay wasted.
I’m tired of seeing how much hay they are able to waste.
.Mo
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Doggone Excitement
Sunday was a refreshing day of warmth and sunshine, which melted enough snow to bring us almost back to where things were before last week’s storm. As I expected, much of my day yesterday involved shoveling channels in the muddy ground to facilitate drainage of the melt water. Luckily, we got help from Elysa and her friend, Anne, who stopped by for a dose of country sun and to commune with all our animals.
Anne captured this beautiful picture of Legacy and Cayenne giving Elysa some love for her efforts.
In the morning, while Cyndie and I were working in the paddock, we spotted a local coyote hunter’s truck that had stopped on our road. Then I heard the baying sound of his hunting dogs and quickly became concerned about where Delilah was. We discovered her a little ways out in one of our fields, oblivious to the world as she buried her nose in the ground in pursuit of some enticing scent. We called her back to our vicinity.
A short while after that, the sound of the hunting dogs erupted again, this time closer, from the woods beyond our house. Delilah took off after the sound, despite my calls for her to stay. Uneasy about what the hunting dogs might do to the sudden appearance of our dog, I dropped my shovel and hustled after her. Before I got very far, I heard the hunter’s truck coming up behind me in our driveway.
He has been up to our house a couple other times, to ask permission to track coyotes across our property, so I was familiar with him. He assured me that Delilah was not at any risk from his dogs. Just then, she came sprinting back, now interested in this stranger standing with me. We visited briefly and then he checked his electronic tracker and found his pack of hounds had moved on, so he headed off down the road after them.
You’d think by this point we might have considered putting Delilah on a leash, but we went on about our activity as if that whole hunting dog concern was over. That’s not the way tracking necessarily works. After enough time passed to lull me into forgetting about it, I happened to glance up and spot an animal running along our southern property border. Initially, I wondered if it might be a coyote on the run from the pursuit, but it became clear it was one of the hunting dogs. By the time I located Delilah, it was obvious that she had seen it, too, and was already on the opposite side of that same field.
Despite both Cyndie’s and my protests, Delilah excitedly ran down to check on the new dogs visiting her turf. True to the hunter’s word, there were no threatening gestures from his pack, as the number of arriving dogs increased. What did end up happening was plenty of barking and eventually, confusion. With Delilah anxiously, but cautiously, trying to engage all these strange dogs, the pack seemed to lose track of their primary mission, and decided to focus all their attention on her. Delilah decided to retreat back toward us.
Soon there were hounds around and in the paddocks and a fair amount of chaos as Cyndie and I hollered, waffling between trying to collar our dog or the hunting dog that was now in proximity of our horses. In a flash the hunter’s truck was rushing up our driveway, and he apologized three different times as he hoisted each of his dogs up into their compartments on the back of his truck.
Happily, there were no problems that occurred from the close encounter between our dog and the hunting dogs. In fact, it turned out to be a great opportunity to increase awareness of Delilah to our surrounding community. The hunter happens to be a cousin of our neighbor whose property abuts ours on two sides. He approved of the orange vest we make her wear outside. He said he noticed her out in the field right away the first time he pulled over, and would make sure his cousin knows about her now, too.
I appreciate that, because we’ve been meaning to introduce her since we brought her home last July, and just never got around to making it happen.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
