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Milo Goes Groomed But Thoughts of Cow Poop Still Linger

Milo…

He’s not known for his cleanliness.

He hates baths, trims, and eats cow poop like a drug addict in the bathroom at work, anxiously feeding his habit while hoping to God no one catches him.

Cow Pies: It’s What’s For Dinner

Since his curly unkempt hair is a magnet for burrs and ticks, I figured it was time to take him into the groomers. He was overdue about, oh, three years, so it seemed as good a time as ever. Country Man and I have both tried our hand at cleaning him up, but he puts up one heck of a fight and leaves us choking on hairballs for the next two days.

When the groomer asked me what how short, I said the shortest cut possible.

So short that I can see the ticks before they’ve morphed into that disgusting green blood-filled jelly bean shape.

Good luck! I said, heading to the local bakery for a donut and coffee.

An hour and more donuts later, I came back to find a new dog, decked out in a kerchief.

I asked her how he did. Not very well, she said. I gave her a five dollar tip and grabbed my dog, looking like the parent with the naughty kid and even I couldn’t deny it.

I know who he is. I accepted it a long time ago.

Milo the Terrible

Maybe this new look will be the beginning of a healthier, cow poop-free lifestyle?

Actually, I am pretty sure he is thinking of cow poop right now. Aren’t you Milo?

You betcha you are. Planning to reward yourself for this ridiculous photo session I put you through, on top of the grooming and the scarf. And that I flipped the scarf over to make it look like a bonnet. I couldn’t help myself.

Well, the groomer can only do so much for a dog and his person.

Just hope he thinks of me mid cow poop feasting, remembering he is burr and sticker free.

Actually, I hope he doesn’t think of me while doing that…

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a tale of two sisters

So this is how the middle starts.

You’re the older the one, the mature sophisticate who can’t wait to meet up with her best friends and do what best friend early teens do, after Mom drops you off and goes down the list of horrible things that happen to children who don’t listen to their parents.

The two are about as opposite as sisters can be. While you’re making double plays in softball, she’s sitting in right field picking the dandelions and waving to Mom, brushing strands of hair away from her cute freckled nose with her over-sized mitt.

You don’t think too much of her while you’re away because she’s always around and she doesn’t understand the ways of a teen life just yet.

She stands by the door, waiting for you to come home so she has a friend because the dolls aren’t going to play themselves but you had a bad day and you think she’ll always be there to greet you, so not today.

That’s how it starts, when memories become a thing, and just when you think you two will be cards-on-the-holidays siblings, something cracks…

The younger look-a-like turns out to be less of an obligation and more like a friend.

She even kinda looks like one.

The months become years, and you find nothing compares to the time together because she’s the only one who understands your quirky sense of humor…

The kind of knowing humor that makes you not want to look into her eyes during a serious event, like church or anywhere you’re supposed to be quiet and respectful.

Our faux senior pics

Our faux senior pics

The kind of knowing sadness that comes from shared pain, like the loss of a pet and she was the only one who cried when you told her your good old boy was terminally ill and you thought your heart would burst.

Yep, she’s 2,000 miles away and your middle school best friends faded like they tend to do.

And she’s still there, growing older along with you, laughing about love handles and attempts at running and discussing good wines and good men.

You’re not sure when or how it happened, but she didn’t give up and it looks to be a fun adventure with her for years to come.

Happy Birthday Baby Sister, your bro-in-law & I love you lots.

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The Good Old Days Now

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” – Andy Bernard, The Office

This spring has kept us busy between teaching at the Hutterite colony, planting corn, and one stretched-out-over-the-weekends fencing project.

At times it seems as though there are not enough hours in the day for him to get his work done, and too many hours for me to wonder when all our future plans will come together. For now we’re on the farm while he heads west to work on a different farm/ranch, and dreams include owning our operation and me working working along side. It will happen, but it’s the waiting that can challenge patience and trust.

It’s a lot scary to wait on something, not knowing if it will be all you had hoped when it finally materializes.

Times like this calls for perspective. I tend to lose that.

What do I know to be true right now?

  1. I love him
  2. He loves me
  3. I love the South Dakota country
  4. I love our goofy pups
  5. I am living a life to be envied
  6. I am healthy
  7. I can take photos that make my stubby fingers look dainty

While things are not the way we’d thought they’d be by this time in our life, we’re busy. He does what he loves every day. I get to sleep in and plan trips to see my family.


I get to kiss him every single day.

And for a short season, help him fence to good music, the sun on our face.

Happiness.

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There’s a new man in town

Well, Orange Kitty is a new man of sorts. A less testosterone-filled one, that is.

The vet also treated him for ear mites.

Was he grateful, you ask? Did he come running into our arms the second we opened the cage?

Let’s hug! With your face and my claws!

No and no.

Wild Tom Cat

He hissed and growled and glared, knowing he couldn’t flight but wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Wild Tomcat

Country Man released the latch and in a flash he was off, into the trees where he makes his home until no one else is around.

There are town tomcats, and there are country tomcats, and the two ain’t the same thing, ok?

wild tomcat

Well, tootle doo, Orange Kitty. We wish you the best in life, and if you decide to keep heading west, we’ll understand.

wild tomcat

wild tomcat

Something tells me he is not going anywhere, though.

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Darn Farm Cats of All Colors

All I can seem to talk about these days are the farm cats. Maybe it’s because in comparison, my life seems dull right now.

According to my momma, I need to get used to that, but I don’t want to so I follow the farm cats around when life seems lackluster.

Remember me talking about Orange Kitty and how he beats up on my sweet little Gray Kitty (once-upon-a-time named Cole but it didn’t stick at all) and how it makes me mad?

Demon Tom Cat

Demon Tom Cat

Well, after one too many times of peeing in Country Man’s shed, and beating up my farm cat, we decided it was time he go.

P.S. Have you ever seen the damage a tomcat does when he marks his territory? It’s skunk-like.

Anyway…  Country Man used to shoot tomcats for being a nuisance, but a woman has softened him and now Orange Kitty gets a second shot at life.

So Country Man trapped him – after two failed attempts of finding the cage with Black Kitty, unimpressed – and he took Orange Kitty seven miles west and said good riddance.

South Dakota Kitty

Black Kitty not impressed

But who do you suppose showed up four days later, lurking by hay bales and dog food?

Orange Kitty.

I will never leaveee!

Apparently he’s used to us as well and managed to find his way east. That is one determined cat.

You’d think now would be a good time to shoot him, since he keeps beating up on Gray Kitty and peeing on property and not taking the hint to leave already , right?

It’s the thrill of the fight.

Wrong.

You’d be wrong.

We are so weak.

Orange Kitty is on a path toward physical emasculation, where our  hopes and dreams of him not peeing in the shed or hurting our cats soar high. Our cat-loving animal vet and his wife think fixing him will be no problem at all. “I’ll just use a long needle,” he says.

Tell me, have we all gone crazy?

Two of the votes think not…

Actually, yes, you have. Off with his head already!

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So we got some snow.

We received a few inches these last few days.

Not a huge fan of it, but what do you do?

Well, I know what to do. Check on my farm kitty’s newest gashes, to make sure he doesn’t need stitches.

He’s good.

Unfortunately, the second I turn my back, he is ready to roll with farm pup and she’s tough, but not tough enough for him.

It’s April, right? What does your April look like? Are you staying warm? Are you going crazy yet? Send me a lifeline.

xoxo, Country Wife

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hunting for horns

Now that the snow has melted, it’s time to start looking for sheds.

We have extensive territory to cover and only a short window of time to do it, before competition builds or the pressure of harvest season begins.

I don’t always go along with him on these adventures; he’s got friends who match his passion and who don’t wimp out so easily. (Hey, this wind is cold. And dressing weather-appropriate would be smart).

But when the sun is shining and I can wear a tank top, I’ll be there!

While my husband picks up horns, you’ll find me staring at the spooked deer or the garbage remnants left behind from previous dwellers, because that’s what they did at that time, I guess.

It’s always a sad sight but I know we can do better by the land.

Even though I was “skunked” this time around, I will keep tagging along as long as I can.

P.S. To the gopher I called a prairie dog, I apologize. I hope you are not easily offended but full of grace. I really was born and raised in this state, believe it or not.