Pin a tail on Alan

Alan's is a sad tail – short, tattered, uneven.

Some would call it stubby. I don't think anyone is chewing on it. It's just naturally flawed.

George's tail is long and lush by burro standards,

and I love how his dorsal stripe extends all the way to the end.

Lucy's tail is fairly typical for a donkey, covered with short, coarse body hair except for a tuft at the end.

Donkey tails are worlds apart from horse tails. Hank's tail sweeps the ground and is thick and luxurious.

Maybe he'd be willing to sacrifice a few strands so I could make some extensions for Alan,

sort of a locks-for-love program for equines.

Pig tails are in a class by themselves.

Sometimes Johnny's tail is in a different zip code than the rest of his body.

I've never seen such a long tail on a cat.

Smooch's tail wags so much, she can sweep the porch one section at a time.

So while Alan's tail may be nothing to write home about, he more than makes up for it with his

adorable ear tufts and eyebrows. And don't get me started on those flaring nostrils.

Down the road with Smooch ~ February 2014

Every day after I'm done working, Smooch and I go for a walk. It's as much a part of the daily routine as brushing my teeth. 

I wouldn't know what to do between 5 and 6 p.m. if I didn't take Smooch for a walk. I look forward it, she looks forward to it, 

it's what we do. I listen to an audiobook or a podcast on my iPod while Smooch listens for coyotes.

Yesterday I was finishing up "The Wisdom of Donkeys" – a very good book but the worst narrator ever. 

If I ever meet him in person, I will wring his flat, monotone, unemotional neck. Now I will buy the print version 

and really read it so I can underline stuff and dog-ear pages. Such is the downside of audiobooks.

I really like this new photo I took of Smooch, but the color doesn't add much to it at all.

Some pictures, like some books, are just better in black and white.

Prowling and posing

 

He sleeps with the fishes

Of all the places George could take a nap, he chose to sleep next to Fish. 

Some things just can't be explained.

 Me: Anybody home?

 Me: I'll take that ear as a yes.

George's moment of consciousness was brief.

My announcement that it was lunchtime got another rise out of him.

 His lips parted ever so slightly.

I could tell he was about to say something.

George: How would you like it if I snuck in your room
and took pictures of you sleeping with your mouth open?

Something very fishy is going on

Farmers and ranchers have been known to put goldfish in their stock tanks to control mosquito larvae and algae. I've always wanted to try this but for one reason or another have never gotten around to it. Then Danni mentioned on her blog last week that Mr. Goldy was celebrating his fourth anniversary in her stock tank. I looked at the pictures of her pristine stock tank, then I looked at the deplorable condition of my stock tank, then I went to the fish store. Who knew my tiny town even had a fish store? And it was right there on the way to the Walmart. 

Anyway, the very nice proprietor said this was a good time of year to acclimate a fish to a stock tank, and she showed me my options: 

the small and seemingly helpless five-for-a-dollar variety ("they grow real fast," she said), or the big and strong one-for-$7.50 specimen. 

I went for the big guy. My confidence in his ability to survive grew as I listened to him noisily splashing around in his bag all the way home. He seemed like he would be able to hold his own against the herd and the elements.

He was still alive by the time we made it back to the ranch, which I took as a good sign.

Lucy: What do you mean I have to share you with yet another herdmate?

There was a collective "WTF?" when I showed him to the boys.

Alan: I've never tasted sashimi but I hear it's pretty good.

George: Danni, I'm gonna get you for this.

Fish: Where's all that algae you promised? I'm getting hungry here.

Fish: No fair! You didn't tell me a cat was part of the deal. Bait and switch!

I wanted to give Fish a proper start in his new life, so I scrubbed and refilled the stock tank before moving him to his home. 

I used my "pocket hose" (as seen on TV) for the first time. Actually, I didn't see it on TV, I saw it at the Walmart, 

but I am so stinkin' sick of self-kinking hoses, I thought I'd give this new-fangled thing a try. So far, so good.

Hank was the first to investigate and didn't seem to mind the company. Nobody likes to drink alone.

Alan was too busy navigating the mud to worry about a silly fish.

George: Holy carp!

George: Is it me or does the water taste like fish poop?

As I write this post Sunday night, I'm happy to report that Fish survived his first 36 hours at the ranch. 

I'll give it another week before working on a name.

The daily coyote

We've been having a fairly regular visitor lately. He wanders through his territory 

in the early morning, passing through and doing no harm ... so far.

 Whether she's in her yard or in the house, Smooch lets me know our visitor has arrived.

 I assume he's a he. I really have no idea. But I do know it's the same coyote day after day.

Part of me knows he's a menacing predator, but the other part of me knows he's a magnificent animal.

The fence that separates him and his brethren from me and Smooch and the chickens and Wynonna

has allowed us to co-exist all these years, and I choose to believe that it will continue to do so.

George and Alan have always had our backs when it comes to coyotes. 

They chase off the coyotes when it's obvious that they're hunting and leave them alone when they're not.

After a brief consultation, George and Alan chose to leave this coyote alone.

I issued a stiff warning that it was time for him to be on his way, and he left. 

Then I went to the barn to take attendance.

 All the chickens were present and accounted for, as was Johnny.

Johnny: You worry too much. Give me a little credit for being a very wise cat.

Saturday encore ~ Mother Nature steals the show

I posted this picture originally in February 2009, so I'm guessing most of you haven't seen it. 

It's still one of my favorites.

 

Hank's rules of order

 Hank has a tendency to monopolize the discussion at all family meetings.

 He has strong opinions and will keep making his point...

 ...until everybody else backs off, albeit begrudgingly.

I suppose he's compensating for being outnumbered.

Hank: I move that we get a new sign. Do I hear a second?

*crickets*