Play Dead.

A long time ago we decided to go to a store every one of our friends had told us about.
     It was in the middle of nowhere. The directions went something like this Take the road that goes to Conway. Turn right at the grocery store. Go until you see a farm on your left with a sign at the end of the fence that says Meat Packing  1 mile. Turn left there and go down that dirt road until you come to a fork. Take the fork to the left and go until you see the store on your left. The road gets worse and worse, but keep going. You are in the right place.
       This is part of the explanation of how we ended up with 9 dogs and six cats. 
     One Saturday morning we got in the old Suburban we used as a farm vehicle. Can't drive it in the rain because it has some holes in the side and we don't want it to rust. Can't drive it in the freezing weather because the only heat comes through the vent and there is not enough to defrost the windshield.
    Can sell it because it has 4 new Michelin tires that are worth more than the SUV. We also use it to take small animals to the vet.
    Ah, I am going in the wrong direction. We got about six miles down the road and a Bassett hound was laying in the middle of the road. We stopped the car to see if it was hurt. That dog did not move a muscle. 
    My passenger jumped out of the car and ran to the dog. I sat in the Suburban with cars honking and going around while she took a look at the dog.
     As soon as she got to the dog and leaned over to check it out, the dog up, ran to the open car door and jumped in. She didn't stop there. She went over the back seat and the third seat and ended up in the cargo area.

      I was so busy sitting with my mouth wide open in utter amazement that I almost missed the other two dogs who ran out of the tall grass off the shoulder of the road and followed her exact path.
   We now had three dogs in the back of the car.
    We needed to move off the road and assess the situation. 

    My idea was to leave the dogs and if they were there when we came back we would pick them up.
     The answer was. "I couldn't live with myself if we came back and one of them was actually smashed on the road."
     I left all the windows down in the car while we were in the store so if they wanted to leave, they could. 
     They didn't,
      The Bassett hound had just had babies, the Rat Terrier was an intact male and the puppy looked like you would expect that match up to look like.
       I wanted to add a picture of Odie, the youngest one, but it is too dark outside.
      Zoi, the Bassett, crossed the Rainbow Bridge last year. Jack is sixteen and follows my every step. Odie is twelve. 
      Sometimes the seemingly most unhandy events turn out to be a  big blessing.
Come back and visit me again, There is always something going on at the farm.
Leave a comment here or you can reach me at susankeenebooks@gmail.com



    

Some facts about Kate Nash

Free To Good Home

I have been slack in writing my blog. So many things going on since retirement, I wonder how I ever had time to work. Days fill in so quickly, I am rethinking what is important and what isn't. This time of year, it is animals.
The sheep love the cold weather, but don't like precipitation  of any kind. The horses love to run in cold weather, it makes them feel frisky. The cows don't seem to notice the weather one way or the other. They want hay in the feeders and water in the tanks We had a new calf this week. They are usually born in the worst weather. The first one born here on the farm was born in a snow storm in a wet weather creek bed. We were sure it wouldn't make it an hour, but its mother had a sense of how to take care of it and moved it to higher ground. When it was three days old she proudly brought it up to the top of the field to show it off.


The outside dogs stay in their houses on gloomy days. They are packed with warm fresh straw and toasty warm. On sunny days they romp and play. The inside dogs are spoiled and don't want to move from in front of the fireplace.


My new book, Diggitty the Dog Saves Christmas came out last week. I'm having fun with it. Diggitty now has a stamp of her paw print and signs all the books. She still doesn't like personal appearances, so I don't bother her with them. To see the new book you can click on this link http://tinyurl.com/m735588 .


Right now I am working on Finding Lizzy Smith. It is a book about a 30 something woman who was a cop until her husband was shot execution style. She has too much empathy for the victims and their families and quits her job. Now, Kate Nash, is a PI. Her cases are entertaining in the background while she is working on finding her friend Lizzy Smith who misses a meeting. Two more of her friends are killed and all of this is related. Mwaaaaaaaa................ you have to read the book!


As a member of the board of the Friends of the Garst Memorial Library in Marshfield, we are planning a trivia Night for January 24, 2015. It should be fun. We will have pizza, snacks and a real MC. If you live anywhere near Marshfield , Missouri you should consider a table with your friends.

I'm going to take a more active role in Sleuth's Ink Mystery Writers next year. More news on that later. Also, I would like to add more trips to St. Louis to see the Grandkids and those people they live with and more trips to Tulsa to play with Diane.


I have a mental bucket list but now I am writing it down. I am working on visualization and trying to spend more time in meditation, watch less television and read more books. Listening isn't one of my strong points so working on it is another priority.


One of my favorite things is speaking about writing and/or encouraging people to attain their goals. I'm hoping to increase the time I spend doing that.


Happy Thanksgiving all.

One person's endeavors are another person's nightmare!

One person's endeavors are another person's nightmare!!!!







     My philosophy on life has always been simple. A person is on his/her own path and should enjoy life the way they want. Sometimes my outlooks rise up and bite me in the butt.

There is a gentleman buying up all the land he can. On my road, he owns the farm in across the road and bought the farm down the street. Those two farms total about 1300 acres. As near as I can figure, in the last year he has bought or rented several thousand acres.

He is turning it all into pasture land for cattle. Since they are grazing in open spaces and not penned in small areas, I don't know if it is considered  factory farming.

Word is out that he would like to buy any land a farmer wants to sell.

Like I said, usually I would salute him. This time, his actions are changing my life.

He is clearing all of the land. That's right, there is not a tree, shrub or weed in sight. He puts up beautiful fences and brings in trailer loads of cows.

About now, you are saying to yourself, "There has got to be a point to this. Who cares if he raises cattle?"


Well, all of those woods he bulldozed down contained the homes of several hundred deer, coyotes, owls, mice, raccoons, badgers, opposums, bobcats, a mountain lion and several ferel cats and a million rabbits.


Can you guess where all of those animals are now? Okay, not all of them, I'm sure, but a huge number of them.


I woke up the other morning with three adult coyotes in the orchard. To put this in prospective, the orchard is about 50 feet from my bedroom window. They can't find much prey so they have become vegaterians. More specificly, they are eating every apple and pear they can get their paws on.


The sheep graze in the orchard daily, but now I have to take a shotgun out each morning and shoot it several times to scare off the coyotes so the sheep can come out.  I don't kill them because so far they haven't eaten a lamb or a calf. The one I kill might be replaced by an animal who has a taste for mutton or veal.


The owls are fighting over the mice, ferrel cats and maybe my cats if they happen to be in the wrong place at the worng time.


The ferrel cats are hungry and eating the cat food in the barn as are the raccoons, opposums and groundhogs.  This is not a good situation.


At first I didn't want to sell the farm knowing the first thing the guy is going to do is bulldoze my orchard to the ground. It is not the world's best producing orchard, but we have slaved in it for nine years. When we started the trees looked like sticks in the ground. Now they are big enough to climb.


We are getting ready to build a new green house and it has us thinking. Do we want to live here? We are now the only people on the road for 4 miles. Hum.


There is much to think about. Thought I would share this because someitmes it helps to write it down. Besides, I am a writer more than a farmer.


I was told today that there are people who come out and kill all of the coyotes. Others would come. Maybe not as many, but it only takes one or two to eat my sheep.


Of course, people are selling out here. There are many people who come along and other to buy your farm. Most people don't want all this land and the work that comes with it.


Maybe a moat is the answer. I always wanted a moat around the farm. I  get voted down every time. My first step will be to move the sheep out of the orchard and into the field next to the hoop house. Then am going to horse fence it and move the three big dogs out there and let them run. It will do several things. It will keep all of the wild life at least 7 acres from the house. For those of you who aren't farmers, picutre each acre as about the size of a football field.


It will also protect the sheep in their new space.
Okay. I am finished. Felt good to have my say.

Life on The Farm, Part Two

  Our farm is almost 100 acres. To some it is large, to others, small. When I walk around the perimeter, it is large. When someone wants to hunt on it,it is too small. We have a road in front, a road on one side with houses and animals in every field.
We have a "do no harm" policy here. There are no sprays or insecticides on the fruit or veggies. The animals eat natural food and we mow and burn rather than spray the weeds.


The down side is it is nearly impossible to keep up with it and still have any kind of life. We had to make our mark in the sand and declare sustainable or pristine. Unless one works 24-7, it will not be weed free and mowed all at the same time.


Our apples and pears are some of the sweetest you have ever tasted. Because we have to fight every bug and bird for two hundred miles, they are small and have blemishes. When I was selling them at the Farmer's Market several years ago I used the slogan "Beauty is only skin deep, healthy goes clear to the core."


It worked. I sold everything worth eating.. We make cider, applesauce, applebutter and dried apples with the rest.


The only sad parts of the farm are the cows and sheep. We don't want to eat meat from the grocery store. I don't want antibiotics, hormones or extra fat in my meat. I am a true believer that you are what you eat eats.


Cows are cute. They are not the smartest creatures on earth but they become like pets. The sad part is we can't keep them all. The boys get sold as either bulls for another farm or they go to market for meat.We sell them off the farm and deliver them to the butcher for our customer also. It is decidedly more humane than a feed lot. Farm fresh meat tastes like nothing you eat in a restaurant.








The sheep are even harder to part with. We lamb in the spring unless a ram gets feisty and goes to visit the girls without permission. It happened last week and we may be having lambs in January. Oh joy. I love lamb and again, I don't eat meat away from the farm. You will never see me order chicken or lamb or a burger out. I have become an expert on Caesar salad. I am going to a dinner Friday night and there are no choices other than meat or seafood. I will choose the shrimp and try not to think about it.


There is not a feeling in the world like walking out on a brisk morning and watching the horses run. They love the cool weather. The sound of horses hooves pounding on the cold hard ground is refreshing.


My second favorite sound is cows and horses chewing hay or grass. Sometimes it is the only sound I hear in the early morning.


I can be in the worst mood ever and turn it around by taking a walk around the farm. I love that the tip of every tree branch reaches to the sky. I love it that the squirrels run and play when I am within three feet of them because they are used to me.
 Every sunset is spectacular and every sunrise promises a fresh start to a new day and infinite possibilities. Do yourself a favor and spend part of each day in nature, if you do nothing more than to sit quietly on your back porch.


I sometimes play a game where I close my eyes and listen. What do I hear close to me? Then I expand my awareness and listen for things far away. Try it. You will be surprised how relaxed you are in only a minute or two.


People ask why I live so far out and make the drive to Springfield when I want to go somewhere like  church or see a movie. It is because there is no substitute for my nature fix every day.


Life is Good and it just keeps getting better.

Joys of Living in the Country, REALLY?

    I find myself getting up two hours early to drive to Springfield for a meeting. The sheep must be let out into the field. Everyone has to have water and all the dogs and cats are sure their throats have been cut. After all, they haven't eaten since last night, a long 9 hours ago. They are being annoying and hovering around because I might forget to feed them. It matters not that none of them have ever missed a meal.


I know what your thinking. You think I am whining. If you don't like living on the farm, move to the city. It is not as simple as it seems.








We have 10 dogs, 6 cats, 24 cows, 12 calves, 19 meat sheep, two mules, five horses and 4 donkeys.
When I think of moving to the city my first dilemma  is who will I get rid of.








No one. They are all near and dear to me. The outside dogs, Bo, Woody and Odi have never been out of the yard. I can leave the gate open but they will not come through it. God have mercy on any turtle , snake, or raccoon who gets off path and goes into their territory. On the other hand, they are only kings of their domain and they don't want to increase it.








Zoi, the basset hound lives in another area because she is so obnoxious, the dogs don't even like her.
Now, who would take these wonderful animals and love them like we do.








Did I mention, Roady, the boxer without a brain? You heard me correctly, this boxer has no brain. She would kill herself to get inside and out of a thunderstorm or away from the sound of gunshots during hunting season.  I had hopes of giving her away once. The advertisement for her would have read as follows:  Free to good home, A boxer.Lovable, doesn't come when she is called. Loves to chase sheep and bite at their legs, eats her way though chain link fence and outside doors to escape loud noises. Once got into the dog food and ate 40 pounds. Pooped for two weeks and drank water continually for 11  days.  Will deliver.


Trust me, no one answeredthe ad.




Now we have Diggitty the Dog, Chi Chi,  and Pinny, along with Gambie and Jack. They would be more than happy to let a thief in, show them where the treasures are hidden and help them carry it to the get-away- car. Are you getting the gist of why I live here?








Let's talk cats! Spooky (got him at Halloween) is almost 15 and lives on the back porch. I don't think he ever leaves the back yard. Greatest cat ever. Jersey Girl, is a hunter. She comes up for dinner about 6 each evening. If she doesn't come I get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Splash and Jesse live in the wood shop and when we came home from vacation last time there was a kitten in there. She had torn the screen and come in to live. See, life is so good here they break in to become a member of the Bowen Creek Farm Family.






This is running a little long so I will stop for today. Look for part two of  Life on the Farm in a few days.

Susan Keene, hunter.

I was writing a post for facebook and realized it would make a good blog.

 

Last year I was riding around the farm in my golf cart. (that is how we city farmers do it)

The orchard was in good shape, the sheep fence was secure and the lane gave me a clear view of the cows and their new offspring. The only detour I needed to make was to actually go into the steer pasture and check on them because I couldn't see down the hill.

 

There they were,all either standing in the pond or lounging in the shade except for one. He was dancing a pawing and jumping like he was in a samba contest.

 

I drove my cart closer and there was the biggest snapping turtle I had ever seen. How big you ask? Well, if you like turtle soup, he would have fed all of the county.  Several things came to mind when I saw them. My dad said if a snapping turtle gets a hold of you, it will not let go until it thunders. Since the sky was bright blue, I sat and studied the situation. The steer could not get away from the creature because in spite of its size, it was quick.

 

The chances of controlling the steer were better than the chances of controlling the turtle.

By this time Blenna (my farm partner) was on the scene, but being braver than I am, she was on foot.

 She shooed the steer back and I shot the turtle with the handgun I carry. Well, I shot him nine times. Apparently I did not hit a vital organ although I did slow him down. He wasn't chasing anyone. After about ten minutes of him laying still, we turned him over on his back and covered him with heavy rocks to keep other critters from discovering him. What we didn't need was a few more predators in the pasture.

 

The next day, my daughter came to visit. She brought some of her friends. Their favorite pastime is walking around the farm and exploring. We related the story about the snapping turtle and guess what?

 

When they came back to the house for lunch, they said the grave was empty. "Couldn't be, " I said.

So off we went to show her where we put the thing. Well, indeed, it was gone. We followed the trail and that monster had dug out of the whole, turned over boulders it took both of us to lift and made it at least fifty yards down the creek bed before it died.

 

I am not a big proponent of killing things. We have a do no harm policy here. But when the safety of one of the animals or one of us is threatened, I will pull the trigger.

 

Did you know a snapping turtle will dig through your pond and destroy it so it will no longer hold water. They are nocturnal and love to lay in wait for prey. Never pick a snapping turtle up by the tail. they are usually too heavy and if they get angry, they can reach up and get you.

 

And never try to find out if it is true that they won't let go until it thunders.

 

A Day on the Mountain

A Day on the Mountain.

I bowed my head and kept walking. When the sound in my ears became deafening, I stopped and leaned against a tree so as not to fall back down the steep mountain. When the sound of beating drums softened like they were moving further away from me, I started walking again. I took a second to glance back the way I'd come. It was nearly straight up. The walk was treacherous, but it seemed like such a good idea when I began.

It was another one of those things I felt I must do to cleanse my soul so I could go on to next part of my life. The part after marriage. Is a marriage lasting twenty-five years, before it breaks up, considered a failure. I felt it was. I had mothered two wonderful girls, raised them and got them through college before I left. The drums were getting closer again now. The sound so rhythmic and loud I felt it was going to take over my body and brain. Again I stopped. And again after several minutes of leaning on the nearest tree, it was gone. Whatever was following me was unnerving, yet I wasn't afraid of it. My goal had been to write down all of the good and bad of my marriage and then climb to the top of a glacier pack in the Black Hills and bury it. Cathartic I thought.

For months before the trip I walked mile after mile up and down hills, but nothing prepared me for the high altitude of the mountains. I was making my way slowly up Lover's Loop, a five mile path to the top of the mountain and back. The day before I had walked a different walk and felt like I was in a New York subway because of all of the people I met on the way. Today I picked a more treacherous route hoping not to be in such a crowd. I had been walking for four hours and no one passed me nor did I hear anything but those drums.

So my dilemma was both good and bad. I was going to be alone to sit at the top of the glacier and read my story, and find a place to bury it for eternity. Yet the downside was if there was anything of danger up on the mountain, I was destined to meet it by myself.

I learned early in my walk that the air was thin and I would have to keep my head down to keep from becoming dizzy from the exertion of the climb. Every twenty or thirty feet was a huge pine tree. I was able to go from tree to tree to rest. As I rested I would look up and plot my course to the next tree so I could rest again. I was not yet fifty, but the thinner the air became, the older I felt.

After doing the drum, no drum thing for over an hour I realized it was my own heart beating in my ears. I should have been amused at my own deceit, yet now that I knew, I stopped at every tree to give myself the rest I needed.

So here I am, trudging up the mountain side hour after hour with my head down when I run into a tree. Oh my goodness, it wasn't a tree, it was a massive two thousand pound buffalo. He was grazing in the tree line and I hadn't seen him. I tried not to panic as I scampered back down two trees and hid behind one. Peeking around the tree, I looked at him to see how mad he was I had run into him, but he was still grazing as though he didn't know I was there. Because of his massive size, I was probably a mere gnat to him.

I stayed in my hiding place behind the study pine and watched him as he leisurely ate , making his way further and further toward the other side of the glacier until I felt safe enough to go on with my plans.

All in all, the walk up the mountain took six hours. I read my history once more and took my camping shovel out of my pack. I couldn't make a deep hole in the rocky soil, so I buried my story under a big pile of pine needles and rocks. After making the area look as natural as I could, I went on feeling lighter and happier than I had in years.

The trip down the mountain took less than and hour and I was forced to walk from side to side and tree to tree to keep from sliding down on my backside. When I got there, my friends were waiting to tell about their adventures and I felt I would never be able to admit I thought my own heart beat was made by drums or that I ran smack into the side of a buffalo. But I did tell my story and we all laughed at each others adventures.

It ended up to be quite a vacation, in more ways than one.

The Adventures of Diggitty Dog

The Adventures of Diggitty Dog

I am a firm believer that if you get an idea that will not go away, it is destiny.  You are doing yourself a big disservice if you do not act on it.
 For the past several months, I have had an idea about a series of children's books that teach children something in a fun way.  My dog Diggitty is going to be my hero. Diggitty, who is pictured above, lives on a big farm and takes kids on adventures while teaching them how things grow and live on a farm.
This idea has been in my head so long, I was able to write the first book in less than two hours.  Today I finished book two.
It isn't that the books were so easy to write but that they rattled around until they were complete and only needed to be written down.
The turning point from thinking to writing came the other night when I sat and watched Beth Carter, Allison Merritt and Tierney James give their book reviews at the Friends of the Library in Marshfield last Tuesday night.
I was proud of them.  They did a great job.  That night I asked myself what I was waiting for and the answer came back.  Nothing.
So, be sure to check back and follow the Adventures of Diggitty Dog.  She is a hoot and you might just learn something about gardening, animals, and the antics of an eight pound protagonist.

Food

Food

For those of you growing weary of philosophers I thought I would stray to something else I am passionate about.  FOOD.
Here at the farm we raise natural beef and lamb.  For days my farm partner has been bottle feeding a lamb.
His Mama doesn't have milk enough to sustain him.  The sheep were originally purchased to keep the fruit cleaned up in the orchard and to fertilize it.   We practice perma-culture here.

Perma-culture is the concept that everything you do enhances something else within the area and makes life healthier for everything and anything in its immediate area.  Such as, bugs.  Some insects that attach apple trees (we have 154 or them) actually go to the ground three times in their life cycle.   Mostly they travel in fruit hitting the ground.  So, the sheep eat the fallen fruit, poop in the orchard and eat the grass so I don't have to mow.

We breed the ladies and sell the guys for meat.  They are sweet, healthy and fat and their life is one of happiness until the day they are driven to the processor. Nothing like the animals standing so close together knee deep in their own feces and eating food they were not built to eat.
We raise our cattle much the same way.  We say they are apple finished because any apples or pears ( we have 39 Asian pear trees and 45 domestic pears) the sheep don't eat go to the cattle.
Peaches are another story.  No one eats the peaches but us.  (36 trees).  The pits from the peaches will kill horses, sheep and cattle.  They are not digestible

Actually, I got off subject.  My story is about eating out.  I am certain everyone who reads this is not going to stop eating out.  In our life and times, we are subject to times when there is nothing else we can do.
We can, however , be informed.

Let's talk about GMO foods. Genetically modified organisms. GMO foods were designed to increase the yield in of corn and soy beans to help farmers grow more, etc.  To genetically modify a seed, the nucleus is penetrated, e-coli is introduced and the new hybrid gene is introduced.  Nasty, right?

Well, when you eat out you are eating meat that was fed the corn and soy beans produced in this way.  Not good.  So, try fish next time.  But, because of mercury in the food, try a smaller fish like flounder and sardines.  Any fish who is a bottom feeder.  Stay away from tuna and shark.

Seventy percent of all rats in an independent study died of cancer within two years of eating large amounts of GMO food.  Twenty percent of the rats who didn't eat it died in the same time period.

Am I trying to scare you?  Yes.  or at least open your eyes to better health.  We all know someone who is a part of the cancer epidemic, if not you yourself.

Here are a few researched facts before you head to your favorite restaurant  or go grocery shopping.

Monsanto invented GMO and the government allowed them to do their own research.  This alone should
open your eyes to several things.  Next. Corn and Soy beans are government subsidized crops so they are in everything.

Along with corn and soy, also now gmo is rapseed oil which is canola oil, cotton seed oil, soy lecithin, so that affects your corn chips, and cereal, meat because they eat the gmo products and dairy because not only do they eat the food, but some have growth hormones.  We are lucky in the Springfield area that Hiland Dairy doesn't use antibiotics or growth hormones. Now papayas and alfalfa have been added to the list.  And corn syrup is in everything.

Other little facts, Natural foods can have up to 30 % non natural ingredients without labeling them.
Organic is the same unless it says 100% organic. There are some answers.  Eat local.  Don't shop the center of the grocery store where the packaged food is.  Go to your local farmer's market, but don't assume they don't use pesticides unless you ask them.  And most of all.  Demand GMO labeling of all foods.
There.  I feel better now.

My Typical Day as a Writer

I love to write.  I love when a character  takes over my mind.  I sit for hours with my fingers tapping out the words he says through me. I know if he would order scotch or beer at the local pub, his favorite meal and his taste in women. It's a great life.  It is however, a sedentary job.

It is easy to get up at seven, get a cup of coffee, and write non stop until noon.  When I try to stand, my legs are stiff, I am still in my jammies, and I have hairy teeth.  So, I turned over a new leaf.   After my morning writing session, I head for the gym.  I walk forty minutes and left weights.  It accomplished several things.  My mind is sharper, I get my Food Channel fix, while I am on the treadmill, and I am forced to shower and get dressed to go out in public.

On my way to the gym, I find myself smiling.  Actually, grinning at the things I pass.  About a mile down my lane I am forced to stop for a flock of guinea fowl who know the road has the best gravel.  They like the hubcaps on my car and attack them regularly.  Once I get through them, I meet my neighbor's chickens.  They run when the see me coming.  Problem is, they run in every direction.  If I want eggs for breakfast, I must stop and let them settle so I can go on.   All of this and I am not yet on a main road.

Everyday I go two miles out in the country and pick up a neighbor whose car and son are away at college.

On my way, I stop for a coon hound who lays right smack in the center of the road.  I don't care what time of day or how hot or cold the pavement, the dog is there.  On my left a little further down the  cows are calving.  I count the progress every day.  This week they have three new ones.

It is pretty calm to the gym and then I face the same obstacles on my way home.

Today, when I got here, I became the proud caretaker of twin lambs.  They are so cute and their pictures are below.  These happen to be girls I named Curry and Cumin.  If they are boys I name them lamb chop.It is their destiny.

Once we are done lambing, we will start calving.  This is all done because we don't want to eat grocery store meat.  Well, I had better get back to the great American novel. It isn't going to write itself.

Pets

Pets

.  This morning I want to talk about stray animals.  When we moved to the farm eight years ago, I had a dog, Diggitty.  Diggitty is a miniature dauchhund. My farm partner had a min pin.  I had the world's greatest black lab named Griffin and a boxer with no brain, Roady.

There are nine dogs at the farm now.  That's right, count 'em NINE.
I sit back in amazement at the callousness of people where animals are concerned.  I know it makes me a cynic when dealing with people in general.

In the first two years we lost the min pin, Garbo, and the lab  We were down to a manageable two.
One of our neighbors told us about a grocery store, three miles from no where, selling unusual fare.  We decided to check it out.  A couple of miles from home, on a major county road, we saw a Basset hound lying in the road..  My friend, Blenna, told me to stop so we could help it if it was alive or move it off of the road if it was dead.  So, I stopped.

In reality it was an act.  As soon as the suburban stopped and the door opened, that Basset hopped up, ran to the door and jumped in.  Gingerly she climbed over the back seat and lay panting in the cargo area.
Behind her, out of the woods by the side of the road, came two more small dogs.  One was a male rat terrier and the ugliest puppy you have ever seen.  I swear you would have to hang pork chops from the puppies ears to get other dogs to play with it.  They followed suit.

Don't tell me dogs are not smart.  This was a plan.  Now, I had three dogs in the back of the truck and they were hunkered in for a ride. I suggested we put them out.

"If they are still here when we get back, we can take them somewhere." I thought it was a great idea.
"Oh no.  If they are smashed when we come back I wouldn't be able to live with myself."  was her answer.

As I got back into the truck, I looked over the seat.  A pure bred basset, who had only recently had puppies, a standard rat terrier, a real stud, and the world's homeliest puppy.  And then there were five. Zoi, Jack and Odie Bolt were now to be permanent residents of Bowen Creek Farm.

Several months later, in the dead of winter, I went out to the shop to build a fire.  There was movement to my left, by the wood pile.  I went on about my business.  I finished up on my chores and headed to the house when I saw it again. It was a big ball of fur.  Picking it up I realized it was a puppy.  This was a clean, fat, happy puppy.  He couldn't be over six weeks old.  It was supposed to be the coldest night of the year, so far..  Unzipping my coat I put the little guy inside and zipped it back.  He ended up to be a Basenji.  We named him Woody.

Not long after we got Woody, we received a phone call.  Seems our young neighbors were divorcing.  They moved out of the house and she didn't take the dog. "Could you go check on him?  I left food in a container and he has water."

Blenna went.

Blenna went every day for two months.  The lady had left food alright, but she left it in a covered garbage can with a tight lid and the little guy was scared, cold, and starving.  He would have nothing to do with us.   He waited until the car was out of the driveway and then scarfed up the food and hid again.  After two months, it was easy to tell he was going to end up coyote bait. We called the Department of Conservation, borrowed a live trap, added a cheeseburger.  And then there were seven.
Welcome, Gamble.

We had two neighbors who fought over whose dog should be fixed.  Mary had a golden retriever and Dee a Great Pyrenees.   Mary's vet told her her male would be a better pet if she didn't neuter him. Seems to be a typical male stance.  Dee had no intention of spaying her Pyrenees.  The result was a litter of Golden Pyrenees puppies every year. They ended up in the Walmart parking lot. given away to people who didn't know how to handle them.

When I saw Bo walking up the street, I smiled. This was one puppy I would not keep.  I knew exactly where he came from, and he was going back.  Problem was, they both swore, there were no puppies this year.  It did not belong to them.  We put him in the back yard.  He was going to Tulsa to live with my daughter.  Her dog tried to kill him so he is our resident watch dog.  Nothing moves around here Bo doesn't see, hear, or smell.  He is only ninety-six pounds.

Two black labs showed up a month or so ago and I called county animal control.  They came and got them. Enough is enough.  But, I didn't tell you about our latest, Chichi Rita.

I was out feeding late, after dark, and I saw a fox.  "Hey Blenna, do you think fox eat cat food?"
She didn't think so.  It was a couple of days before Halloween.  We went out to take another look but the fox was gone.  The next night the fox was there again.  A repeat of the night before.  The next day, sitting on the front porch was a little red Chihuahua., my fox.  Now this could not be an accident.  The next morning we went out looking for an owner only to find there were several of these dogs dumped a mile or so away.  One of our neighbors picked this one up and dropped it off near our farm knowing it would survive.  So then there were nine.


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