Posts Tagged ‘Pequenita’
Another Visitor!
What a strange coincidence we witnessed this weekend when, for the second time in three days, a stray dog showed up and lingered all day. Again, this one had a collar with license and veterinary information, but it being Sunday, there was no way to get a number to contact the owner.
This guy was friendly, and when it became obvious that he was happy to hang around, I let Delilah out to meet him. In minutes, they successfully navigated an introduction and seemed comfortable with each other’s presence.
What are the odds that we would have two stray dogs visiting us in such close succession? As Cyndie and I watched Delilah and her new pal playfully running together, it occurred to both of us that maybe we should be thinking about getting a 2nd dog.
The interesting thing about that idea is, Friday we decided to go to the feline rescue organization during the weekend to see if we could get a young kitty as a companion for Pequenita. As soon as we made that decision, a series of situations played out that repeatedly disrupted that plan, culminating in a surprising change of thinking from the possibility of another cat, to considerations of another dog.
We aren’t sure what we will do next, but I believe it will involve queries into what kind of dogs there are at nearby shelters that might be awaiting a new home and canine companion.
Sorry, Pequenita, your new pal will have to wait.
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Any Minute
Any minute now I just know I am going to feel 100% better. What a nuisance it can be to get smacked by a cold that is nothing more than a few days of typical symptoms, but which knocks you completely out of your routine. For the moment, I take solace in knowing I have turned the corner and am on the mend. Whatever crazy cellular battles have been underway seem to have shifted into a mode of damage repair and refuse disposal.
It has cost me a couple days in bed, which isn’t all bad. There are plenty of times when I long to have that option. It’s just never what one hopes for when it gets forced on you by illness. I slept and convalesced under the ever-so-capable care that Cyndie provides. She kept me stocked with medicines, tissues, fluids, and home-made chicken soup, while tending to all the chores of caring for our animals.
Pequenita was a special comfort while I rested, staying on the bed with me when Cyndie and Delilah were engaged in outdoor activities.
No one wants to suffer the travails of illness, but if I’m saddled with the dismal annoyances of the common cold, I don’t think there could be a place more comforting than this in which to endure it.
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Looking Back
Last week we reached the milestone of the 3rd anniversary of making Wintervale Ranch our home. Lately, Cyndie and I have found ourselves randomly recollecting some of the early days here and marveling over the variety of things that have since changed.
It feels a little —what is it? Presumptuous? Gratuitous?— somehow inappropriate for me to request, but I urge you to sneak a peek at one or two posts from the Relative Something archive (Previous Somethings) for the month of October 2012. There are too many gems depicting our arrival for me to do justice to them by trying to produce links, or re-posting to bring them forward to current posts this week.
Barely a month after we finally closed on the purchase of this place, we adopted the cats, Pequenita and Mozyr. After about a year, we came to the realization that Mozyr was not happy with his situation, and we returned him to the shelter, but Pequenita has proved to be compatible with the random chaos that arises here from time to time.
In July of 2013 we added 10-month-old Belgian Tervuren Shepherd, Delilah, to our family, purchased from a breeder nearby. From that day on we have tended to find ourselves in a battle between her training us and us training her. It’s fair to say there have been a smattering of victories on both sides.
Just short of 3-months after Delilah joined us, in the last week of September in 2013, our horses arrived. That was a monumental occasion for us, and came after an intense effort over the previous 11-months to be appropriately prepared.
We removed rusted barbed wire, installed new fencing, built up protective cover on barn walls (previous owners had miniature horses), buried a water line to an on-demand waterer in their paddock, and built a hay shed, along with a variety of lesser noteworthy projects.
I knew so very little about horses at that time. They have taught me a lot in the ensuing years, and come to mean the world to me. Just standing among them, passing time, has become one of my favorite things to do.
I have built a wood shed, twice. After it blew down in a storm, our friends Barb and Mike Wilkus came by and helped me to put it up a second time. Any time we weren’t working on something else, we were creating the spectacular 70-foot “Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth.”
Speaking of storms, we have endured a variety of dramatic winter weather events. Two of them particularly stand out for me.
The first one involved 18-inches of heavy wet snow in early May and snapped a lot of tree branches. Two pine trees that tipped over during that storm eventually died, even though I tried standing them back up and staking them.
The second snow storm blew for days and eventually filled the space between the 4-foot banks on either side of the driveway. It took me two days to dig us out, even with the assistance from both of our closest neighbors. What did I learn from that storm? The neighbor to our south told me he had plowed his driveway twice during the storm, so it never got to the extreme that ours did.
Lesson learned.
An awful lot has changed in the last three years. It is hard for me to imagine what might be different, three years from now, but I expect the changes won’t be near as dramatic as what transpired when we first arrived and worked to establish the infrastructure to support having 4 horses and fulfilling a dream of creating our Wintervale Ranch & Retreat Center.
What fun it is to look back once in a while.
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Kicking Cats
If you own a cat, and you walk around, you probably already know about this phenomenon. I don’t like doing it, and I don’t do it intentionally, but I kick our cat, Pequenita. Seriously.
Just two days ago, she stealthily slipped between my stride as I headed down the hallway from the bedroom and I caught her like football. I think she even let out a grunt as her body lurched sideways, but that may just have been an echo of the sound coming from me in a burst of surprise and remorse.
Much as I wish to avoid the unpleasantness of booting our favorite feline, her stupendous cat-like movements exceed my ability to track her location. In the time it takes me to move my gaze from where she was behind me, to where I intend to walk, she can easily (and frequently does) overtake me, so that I find her already present in the bathroom when I arrive.
She was behind me, and then in a split second, completely undetected, she is around the corner ahead of me. If that were always the case, it wouldn’t really be a problem. However, for some strange reason, she occasionally chooses to not race all the way ahead, and instead elects a pace closer to mine, with a route that crosses my path.
I am inclined to envision it as her playing a daredevil game to see how close she can come to the threat of impact —giving her the benefit of the doubt that she is oblivious to the risk of tripping me she poses in so doing. She would never choose to put me in danger while seeking her thrills.
Except maybe the times when she lets her claws inadvertently meet my flesh during her frenzied escapades of pretending to defend herself from imagined enemies, foreign and domestic.
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Two Hunters
It’s getting to be that time of year when critters prepare for the harsh realities of winter survival. With that, it becomes time for me to get back to a daily schedule of setting and checking mouse traps in the garage at the house, down at the shop, and in the barn. The varmints are making their way indoors, again.
Turns out, we happen to have two “Hunters.” One is our champion horse, and the other is the wee one who has turned into a great hunter of mice! Pequenita must be paying tribute to her former house-mate, Mozyr, whom we named for the anticipated/hoped-for trait of being a mouser to protect our domicile from rodent invasion. The past three nights she has been disrupting our sleep with robust acrobatic all-night maneuvering that has been accompanied by telltale squeaks from her prey.
It seems there might be a new breach in our house somewhere, of which mice are taking full advantage. Pequenita, the wee great hunter, has shown no mercy and dispatched two in her first two nights.
Well, I should say, we have found two. Cyndie cleaned long and hard in search of evidence of the third one, but nothing has turned up. It’s hard to say whether Delilah happily picked up where Pequenita left off, however.
While Cyndie was cleaning in our bedroom, she did suddenly report, “I found a half-eaten grasshopper!”
I can’t say that I ever expected to hear that phrase in the bedroom.
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Online Waiting
It’s what I do. More and more lately, what precious little free time I have to be online is being spent in wait-mode. Whether it is solar flares, our rural terrain, or just a humming-bird sitting at some critical spot on the cell tower, our signal has been toggling on and off at a painfully frequent rate of late.
It’s exasperating, especially when it comes to loading images. Over and over I try, because it always starts out looking like everything is working fine, until it’s not. Then comes the mysterious pause.
Did it stop for just a moment? Did the connection get dropped and it is automatically resetting? Is it down for the count and nothing more will happen no matter how long I stare at it?
Today’s picture is so great, it is worth the wait for me to get it up, but if waiting won’t help one bit, the best picture in the world won’t do me any good.
Who wouldn’t love to see this shot of Delilah with wet hair after her bath?
Today is a rare Friday for me because I am at the day-job. Since I went back to work earlier this summer, I have been putting in a 4-day week, taking Fridays off as the first day of my 3-day weekend. There is just… Too. Much. To. Do. So much so that, not only am I working Friday, but probably Saturday, too.
What!?
I know. I am just as flustered as you. When am I going to get the mowing done? What about all the other chores!?
My sentiments, exactly.
It was tough enough getting thrown out of Eden and forced back into the long commute to industriesville. Now I’m additionally burdened with unending customer requests that exceed my ability to respond successfully.
I’m getting no sympathy from Pequenita. Instead, she just demands more attention from me, starting as soon as I walk in the door and continuing all the way through my feeble attempts to do some writing on the laptop before sleeping. Yesterday, while I wasn’t paying attention to her, she strolled out the open front door through which I was conversing with Cyndie out in the yard.
Suddenly our indoor cat appears calmly in my view on the front steps beneath me.
I don’t blame her for wanting to escape. I know exactly how she feels. I’ve got my eye out for the off-hand chance somebody leaves a door open at the day-job.
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Early Attention
It may not be 4 a.m., but it always feels like it when Pequenita, our cat, decides she has had enough with our being asleep and tromps on us before daylight is visible, kneading and purring, as if being cute and sweet will offset the annoyance of unwanted attention at such an early hour.
She puts her face in mine and tries a few head butts to make sure I know she’s there, but I practice the art of remaining comatose to convey to her that my sleep is not to be interrupted. It is the kneading with those front claws that I am forced to react to if the covers don’t sufficiently cover my sensitive skin.
Some mornings she decides to settle back down and join me in continued slumber, unbeknownst to me since I was practicing being comatose, and I will suddenly fling her off the bed unintentionally when moments later I realize my bladder can’t wait until sunrise for relief.
I am surprised by the amount of abuse she tolerates from me, continuing to lay and sleep at my feet as I jostle her rudely while moving my legs in search of a position my body will accept as sleep-worthy at the beginning of the night. Maybe it is because she knows she will have her vengeance in the wee hours of the following morning.
It is not entirely unlike the relationship of a mother and her child, though it was not my original intention to write all that as a segue to get to acknowledgement of all mothers and their loving sacrifices on this Mother’s Day in the US. Yet, even the title I chose for today’s post, before starting the first paragraph, could be interpreted as an homage to that which all mothers give.
Our kids are grown and gone, but with our dog and cat, we have accomplished a way to feel as though we are still parenting infants, just ones that never grow up.
Happy Mother’s Day all you moms!
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Pill Time
It is a lazy Sunday morning and we have finished a glorious breakfast of blueberry pancakes with luscious fresh maple syrup tapped from local trees at S & S Sugar Bush. It being early in the month, we realized it was time to ask Delilah to take her prescribed heartworm pill. The first time Cyndie presented one to her when we were new dog owners, Delilah gobbled it up enthusiastically. That worked a few more times before something registered with our dear dog that she didn’t like it after all.
This confuses us to no end because we have seen the extremely wide range of disgusting things Delilah otherwise delightfully ingests. Seriously, can this pill taste worse than a mummified carcass that was lying in a farm field that had recently been covered in nasty smelling fresh manure?
This morning, Cyndie tried slipping it into a hard-boiled egg that was reaching the end of its refrigerator life. Surely Delilah would delight in an egg getting past its freshness date.
Of course she did! But the pill dropped right out on the floor. Next came some peanut butter. I warned Cyndie that the last time I tried that, Delilah licked the peanut butter off until the pill was getting slimy, leaving it behind.
I think Cyndie should try slipping it in when she is giving Delilah and Pequenita some shared treat time. It has become their favorite routine to receive cat treats on the kitchen floor together. The cat takes time to crunch hers into several bites, but Delilah gobbles the little morsels up so fast that I’m afraid for fingers that don’t get out of the way in time.
Seems to me to be the ideal time to slip in the old heartworm pill with a little slight of hand so she wolfs it down before realizing what it is. If it doesn’t work, at least it might teach her to slow down and savor this opportunity of sharing space with her sister of another species.
Cyndie enjoyed success with her peanut butter trick this time, so my idea will have to wait another month to be tested. Something tells me Delilah will never fall for it, anyway.
Sure makes me wonder what could be so bad in that little pill, compared to all the vile things our dog fights to get into her mouth at other times…
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Under Represented
I tell so many tales about Delilah’s daily escapades, and the horses are such a powerful commanding presence around here, that our beautiful cat, Pequenita, ends up being too often overlooked. Today she gets some well-deserved air time.
She is a wee little thing, but she knows how to use her claws to get respect when she wants it. That mostly applies to her dealings with Delilah. I’m pretty sure she means it affectionately when she reaches up and hangs her front claws in my pants leg. She likes me a lot so I get that treatment various times throughout each day. Most of the time I am wearing heavy Carhartt pants that have a double layer of fabric over the knee, so she gets away with it.
It surprises her when she tries that maneuver on the occasions I am wearing something else and I recoil in shock over the silly habit.
When I climb in bed at night with hopes of doing a little writing before nodding off to sleep, she immediately shows up in search of some tender loving care. Pequenita tenaciously navigates a position between my eyes and the display of my laptop, and settles in for some scratching and a massage from me.
My efforts are rewarded with a contented purring and handfuls of her hair.
We find her most often perched on our bed in various levels of slumber. Some days I walk in to grab something and she doesn’t move a bit. Makes me question her survival instinct a little that she can fall asleep so hard and ignore activity around her. Of course, all the other times I walk in, she rises from her nap to see what I want and I end up feeling guilty for rousing her when I didn’t plan on giving her any attention.
Most likely, the bedroom remains her preferred hangout because we usually have a gate up to keep Delilah out of there. It becomes a room where Pequenita can relax without a cold nose constantly pushing on her butt. They do continue to improve on tolerating each other’s presence, but Delilah can’t help herself from playfully brandishing her most dog-like aggressive-looking gyrations when she wants to roughhouse.
‘Nita would prefer the game involve a dramatic reduction in the smacking of jaw and baring of teeth. Delilah’s eventual change from that behavior to trying to sniff Pequenita’s butt doesn’t seem like much of an improvement to the cat by that point, either.
When it gets to be a bit too much for her, she retreats beyond the gate and takes a time out. It is not strange to see her choose to return after a very short time, but Delilah rarely figures out that it’s an invitation to try something different, and the scene goes through a bit of recycling back to the over-excited doggy gyrations.
Pequenita is a precious addition to the non-human members of our family. She definitely deserves more attention than she usually receives from us.
Maybe that is why Delilah over does it so often. She is trying to make up for the other periods of attention deficit that Pequenita experiences.
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Relative Something 