Farm Life · Farmtastic Stories · Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm · Uncategorized

Choices – It’s Not Always Rainbows

Animals are my jam, but if I’m honest I  don’t think I ever thought about having quite such a zoo – 4 dogs, 6 cats, 4 horses, 2 donkeys. (Not to mention the scads of wildlife around here – hummingbirds, barn swallows, leopard frogs, and jack rabbits galore.)

If you follow my Instagram feed, you’ll see all sorts of fun animals pics – from the frog riding around on a pool thermometer to Max the dog sporting glasses to horse and donkey antics.  Every single one of our critters has their quirks (don’t we all), and every single of one of them is part of the family.  That means they are here to stay.

I’ve had folks tell me, “You’re living my dream.”  That is beyond sweet and kind words are always appreciated. (We could all do with a few more kind words. Am I right?)

But there is another truth.  There are moments when the fur and the feeding duties and the poop scooping chores and the vet bills are not so Insta worthy.  There are moments when I have thought, “What in the world was I thinking with all of these critters?”

Everything in life is a trade off.  Unlike the story that the media likes to tell us, we cannot have it all.  Something has to give.  And that’s not a bad thing; it’s really just simple math.  There are only so many resources – time, money, space (physical and mental) – a girl has, and so you make choices.

My Farmtastic Life - Max the dog in glasses.
Max, clearly deep in thought, thinking about his choices. Which are generally, “Do I want to sleep on the sofa or on the bed?”

Some choices last a LONG time.  (Did you know horses can easily live into their 30s? Seriously!) Some choices don’t seem long enough.  (Why can’t our best dog pals live forever? Maybelle, I’m talking to you!)  We all make choices – whether to marry, to have children, where to live, where to work, what to risk.  And some choices get made for us – what family we are born into, what physical abilities we have or don’t have, what natural gifts we have, the challenge of loss.  It’s part of this great big life adventure we are all on.

Now nothing I’ve said here is new; we all know this stuff.  We just don’t generally stop and think about it. So why am I sharing it?

Well if you’re like me, when you find yourself looking at folks’ social media personas (and let’s face it, that’s what they are, the version of us we are all putting forward), it’s easy to forget that choices have been made, which inevitably means sacrifices, compromises, and unrealized dreams are likely heaped in a pile somewhere.  We just don’t share them.  (And that’s cool.  No one needs to see someone’s drama blasted all over the Internet, although it wouldn’t hurt us all to be little more vulnerable.  Balance, my friends!)

So as a girl who is living on a farm and working in technology by day, what don’t you see in my Instagram feed?  You don’t see buckets upon buckets of horse poo.  You don’t see the travel dreams I’m longing for, as being away from the farm is hard.  You don’t see the daily vacuuming and sweeping in a (losing) battle to keep the fur under control.  You don’t see the mile long list of things that need fixed or tended to. You don’t see the moments when I think, “Dang, living in a condo sure sounds nice.”  You don’t see the hay bill to keep my equine babies fed for a year. You don’t see the heaps of sand we’ve brought in (yes, we paid for sand!), to try to deal with crazy boot sucking mud when it rains buckets.

Would I trade my farmgirl life?  Heck no. It’s what Cowboy and I chose, and we are grateful.  We feel lucky to have this adventure.  But it’s also okay to have those moments when you sit down in a pile on the floor and ask yourself, “Holy cats, what did I choose?  Did I choose the right thing for me?”

And here’s the really beautiful thing about life.  You cry, you think (and lordy can this girl spend some cycles whirling around in her own head), you get frustrated, and then you get up and keep going. If something’s not working for you, you can continue to shift and twist and turn and make this life your own.

So when you see all of my adorable critters (and yes, they are adorable), don’t forget there is a whole lot of work and choices and compromises going on behind the scenes. None of us gets to escape that, no matter how Insta perfect the story appears.

P.S. – As I was lamenting about all of the critter chores to my momma the other day, she reminded me that, “It’s never a bad thing to save an animal.”  And you wonder why we have 16 critters?  Seriously, I come by it honestly.

P.P.S. – There are those amongst us for whom making choices seems a far reach. They are truly working so hard just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Let’s remember that we don’t all get to start from the same place in life, and as often as we can we should offer compassion. You truly never know how someone’s story has impacted their available choices.  Let’s love each other.

 

 

 

Farm Life · Lessons & Thoughts From the Farm

The Sun, the Soil, and Springtime

This week, I noticed the tiniest little leaves of my mint plant poking their heads through the soil, the pastures brightening up with dotted patches of green, and the hint of warm air on southern breezes tickling my skin.  I absolutely love this time of year when new growth comes complete with vibrant colors, textures, and smells.  (Okay, it might also come with Flonase, Zirtec, and Claritin, but it’s oh so worth it.)

And it’s not just us humans who are soaking up the season.  Around the farm, the horses and donkeys are a little more playful, as they romp around in the hunt for all things green.  The cows are mooing and playing around the water troughs. The cats are seriously bird watching.  And the dogs, well they are napping, as always, but they love it best when they can nap on the porch with the sun warming their bellies.

It’s also the season for one of my favorite sounds of all time – the creaking of the screen door springs as the he pups push it open with their noses, and the fast recoil and slapping sound as it bangs against the door frame.  There is nothing better than fresh breezes flowing through that door, airing out the house from winter and inviting us to find a moment to soak it in, and maybe even play a little.  Do a jig around the kitchen floor.  Sip the perfect cup of tea.  Hum a tune.  

My Farmtastic Life - Our beloved old fashioned, creaky springs, doorframe slapping wooden screen door. Read about our door in the The Sun, the Soil, and Springtime at www.myfarmtasticlife.com.
Our beloved, old fashioned, creaky springs, doorframe slapping wooden screen door. Another one of Cowboy’s magnificent creations!

While I’ve always loved springtime, I don’t remember appreciating it quite so much when we lived in the big city suburbs.  Oh sure, it was time to head to the nearest home improvement big box store to load up on bright and showy annuals to tuck into the landscaping.  And yes, we maybe lingered outside a bit here and there.  But we weren’t connected to the seasons like we are on the farm.

With spring comes the much needed rains that turn the grasses green and allow the farmers to grow the hay we’ll buy later in the summer to feed our equine crew.  Wildflowers will pop up all over the farm in a kaleidoscope of colors and the bees will buzz from plant to plant to work their magic.  

I’ll try my hand, yet again, at a few raised garden beds and learn new things, like that mint I planted last year, oh my stars, it’s now everywhere.  (Experienced gardeners feel free to chuckle about this one.  When I asked one gardening friend of mine if it would come back, he just looked at me with amusement and said, “Oh my god, yes.  You won’t be able to get rid of it.”)

And while Cowboy and I still operate in the real world with day jobs, trips to giant grocery stores, the occasional fast food meal, this farm life has connected us to the soil and to the land in unexpected ways.  It has made us stop and think about what you put in the ground, what you take out of it, and how you care for it.  That the soil is in all of us, it connects us.  That this life with all of its bumps and bruises, seasons of lack and seasons of abundance, is truly a gift.

So as you go about soaking up the sunshine and the breezes and reveling in the deep down soulful joy as the earth literally springs to life, take a moment to breathe it all in. To find your connections – to your neighbors, to your garden, to critters.  And maybe just maybe, find a patch of grass to stand in, feet bare, toes wiggling.

 

Adventures Away From the Farm · Farmtastic Stories

We Came for the Giraffes

Fourteen years ago, Cowboy and I came to Glen Rose, Texas for the very first time.  As big time animal lovers, we had heard about Fossil Rim Wildlife Center and decided to make an overnight trip of it. We had absolutely no idea that one little overnight stay would change the course of our future.

On our day at Fossil Rim, we took a behind the scenes tour, rode around in an open-air Jeep, snapped tons of pictures (with actual film!), and made memories at every turn.  And then we saw them.  The majestic giraffes.

A combination of gangly grace, long eyelashes, and sticky sweet tongues.  I had never been so close to these amazing creatures, and I was quickly falling head over heels in love.  Our guide, the legendary Jan Bussey, parked near the herd and shared her knowledge and passion for Fossil Rim while we hand fed these beauties.

Oh my stars.  I think I could have parked there all day head pointed up, hands outstretched, smile plastered across my face, and heart leaping for joy.  I had found my spot.

Cowboy and I never forgot that trip. In fact, living in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex,  Fossil Rim became our go-to daytrip for birthdays, anniversaries, or just a day out.  We brought friends and family.  We became ambassadors, telling anyone who would listen about the landscape and critters of Fossil Rim, most especially my beloved giraffes.

Not too long after we began visiting Glen Rose, Cowboy and I started looking for land, an escape from the city.  We looked far and wide, even as far north as Oklahoma.  We saw little pieces and big pieces of land.  Some with houses, some without, and some with houses that weren’t long for this world.  Looking became our weekend occupation, as we bumped along miles and miles of country roads.

And then one day, Cowboy looked at me and said, “You know, I’m not sure why we’re looking all over the place.  Wherever we go, we are going to have to drive to Fossil Rim, so we might as well be close.”

Have I told you that man is a genius?  So just like that our search was narrowed to the tippy top of the hill country, where the deer and the giraffes roam.  

And the rest is, as they say, history.  Ten years ago we bought our dream place, and seven years ago we built our barndominium and moved into Wild Horse Valley.  We filled it with our own little zoo of horses, donkeys, cats, and dogs. And we still love to visit Fossil Rim, and even volunteer when we can.  In all these years, it still takes my breath away.

In fact, October is one of my absolute favorites at the Rim.  The weather is cooler, the animals are frisky, and if you time it just right you can catch the European Red Deer in rutting season and hear their soulful bugling across the park.

My Farmtastic Life - Giraffes at Fossil Rim Wildlife Center
A friendly giraffe coming to say hello. If you look closely you’ll see several in the background, and also a gaggle of European Red Deer relaxing in the shade.

It’s easy to take for granted sharing your town with giraffes, rhinos, and cheetahs, but it is truly a gift.  If you are in the area, I encourage you drive on out to the Rim, soak up some sunshine, and sit in wonder of our tall neighbors. But I must say, be careful.  You may come for the giraffes and find yourself staying for so much more.

P.S. A version of this post was published in the Glen Rose Reporter.  This farmgirl is delighted to serve as a community columnist.

Critter Stories · Farmtastic Stories

Smokey’s Eye

No, this is not a post about smudged eye makeup trends.  It’s about our soft-hearted fella of a horse and his journey back to health.

For those of you who follow us on Facebook and Instagram, back in the spring, you saw pics of our big grey mustang Smokey in the equine (a.k.a. horsey) hospital with an eye injury.  This is his story.

Horses are fun-loving creatures with big personalities, big bodies, and some times they can get themselves into big trouble.  Because we live on a farm with trees and fences and stalls, sometimes these precious babies injury themselves.  And try as you might, you simply just can’t fool-proof your farm.  (I mean, seriously, we’ve got horses who can open gates, but that is for another time.)

One spring evening at feeding time, Smokey moseyed up to his stall as usual for a snack.  But this time, something wasn’t quite right. He had his right eye shut tight, tears streaming down his cheek.

After a little eyelid wrangling, we could see he had something going on with the eyeball itself, and made an after hours call to the vet.  Two things to note here. First, trying to pry open a horse’s eye against his will, oh holy cats that is not easy.  It’s a crazy combination of eyelids of steel and a bobbing head.  Second, as we’ve said before, these things don’t happen between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday.  Nope, if we are going to injure ourselves, we’re going to do it right. No sense in playing games.

It was quickly determined the next morning that he had, in fact, scratched the eye. Drat!  The remedy?  Eye meds four times a day should do the trick.  Did you see my comment above about strong eyelids?  Well it got to be a game. We’d look out and see him with his eye wide open. He’d see us, and yep, you guessed it, he’d slam it shut.  Quite honestly, he was just tired of us messing with him.

Seven days went by, and the vet came back out and determined that not enough progress was being made.  Smokey was at risk of going blind in that eye. In order to save his vision, he would have to go the horsey hospital where they could put an IV system through his eyelid and dispense medication directly to the eye.  (Oh if I could have reasoned with this big beast and told him what was coming, he may have opened his eyelids big and wide.)

My Farmtastic Life - Smokey the mustang heals from an eye injury
Smokey bending down to sniff and be petted. I sat on the floor of his stall, talking to him.

So off he went.  It was slow going.  And after a week, not only did he still have the eye issue, Smokey decided he didn’t want to eat much and developed a fever.  Not eat?  That horse has never missed a meal.

Here’s the deal. Horses are herd animals, and mustangs especially. Smokey was born in the wild to a herd, and ever since he arrived at the farm he had his band of fellas, one bossy mare, and two ornery donkeys.  Smokey doesn’t leave the farm.  It’s his sanctuary.  He hates change and snorts and blows at anything different just to let you know he’s paying attention. Heck, once our farrier (that’s a horse pedicure giver for our city friends) showed up in a different vehicle, and Smokey was all about letting us know something changed.  He’s observant. To a fault.

So Cowboy and I decided we had to go visit our fella and see if we could help figure out what had him down.  I had the wild idea that maybe if we could bring him a sense of home, he’d relax.  So I took an old towel and trudged out to the pasture rubbing down all the horses to capture their scents.  Yes, they all looked at me funny, quite suspicious, and probably convinced I was just a bit nuts.  Cowboy also thought I was slightly off my rocker, but as he always does, he just obliged me.

My Farmtastic Life - Smokey the mustang healing from an eye injury
Smokey sniffing his towel and finding comfort in the scents of home.

Off to the vet we went, towel in hand.  Oh if I could just adequately describe that moment.  Smokey sniffed and sniffed.  He touched his nose to the towel. He visibly perked up.  He would move his nose to the towel and then back to take a bite of hay.  He was eating!!!  He softened to our touch. He was relaxing. My heart was aching for our big grey soulstang – he missed his herd, the people and the four-legged ones.

So Cowboy and I made a promise to him.  For the rest of his stay, no matter how long it took, every day one of us would try our best to make the 60-plus mile round trip to talk to him, to brush him, to comfort him.  And just like magic, it worked.  Slowly but surely, he settled in, his appetite returned, the fever left, and he healed.  It took nearly three weeks, but Smokey still had his sight and an even bigger heart.

My Farmastic Life - Smokey the mustang heads home
The veterinary staff getting ready to load Smokey up for the trip home. Let’s just say, this fella is not a the easiest loader. (The patches on his neck were from his IVs. Such a fashion statement.)

These horses continue to teach us so much.  No one wants to be alone in this world, and when we’re hurting and scared the most is when we need the touch, the scent, the spirit of home.  And if we soak in the healing, we too will be able to see again.

P.S.  Big thanks to our amazing vets, especially Dr. Imel, at Peak Performance Equine Hospital.  They are simply the best.  They allowed us to visit Smokey as often as possible, texted us with morning updates, and took the best possible care of our fella.  We will be eternally grateful.

 

 

 

 

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Adventures Away From the Farm · Farmtastic Stories

Musical Cars

This weekend I was lucky enough to have a dear friend visit the farm for a farmgirl getaway weekend.  We floated in the pool, took pics of the critters, explored the surrounding small towns, and ate some scrumptious goodies (boy did we do some sampling).  We bonded, laughed, shared personal stories, and discovered that our lives are similar in ways we never imagined. To say it was a great weekend is an understatement.  

And as quickly as she arrived, it was time to say goodbye.  And that is when I saw my friend show grace, compassion, and humor beyond measure.  (We’ll call that lesson one in this tale of three lessons.)

A few things you need to know to put this next part in perspective:

  1. We live nearly two hours from the airport, so leaving on time is imperative for making flights.  
  2. I have a bit of a sensitive, and at times, unpredictable stomach.  And as we all know, when stomachs command your attention, well there is just no arguing.
  3. My friend had a morning flight.

We had decided we needed to leave at 7:15 a.m. in order for her to her make her flight home. As I mentioned above, we had partaken in some amazing food the day before as we sampled our way through Hico, Texas. At 4 a.m. on the morning of departure all that sampling demanded that I pay the price and the gurgling and cramping started.  (We’ll just stop right there with those details, for all of our sakes.)  

Surely I would feel better by 7:15 a.m.  I just had to.  To boot, Cowboy had been out at a prior commitment and would be on his way home at this time, so he could not take her.  Uber – well let’s just get serious for a minute.  We live out, way out.  So clearly I had to get it together.

So we loaded into the car, and not even 5 miles into the 90 mile drive I started with the deep breathing trying to calm my queasy stomach. Think lamaze breathing – not my finest moment. My sweet friend never showed one ounce of concern for her flight, but rather was more concerned about me.   God bless her.

“We’ll make it. But I might have to make a pit stop at my parents’ house. We’ll pass them on the way,” I squeaked out between huffs and puffs.

I slammed into my parents’ driveway, flew out the car and woke the house up at 7:30 a.m. as I dashed to the watercloset, leaving my dear sweet gracious gal pal waiting in the car.

Then lesson number two came from this grand adventure – my family will do anything for each other.  My dad got dressed lickety split and said, “Let me take her. I can make it.  You need to stay where you are going to be okay.”

Musical cars here we come.  So my smiling friend hugged me goodbye, swapped her stuff to Dad’s truck, and off they went.  Now to say my guilt was running high was an understatement.  This was my friend.  I wanted to take her to the airport.  

After 15 minutes of hand wringing, I learned my dad and friend were still in town at the gas station filling up.  My stomach seemed to be calming down, and I knew I needed to get her to the airport ASAP.  So, you guessed it, I sped to the gas station and we swapped cars once again.  We were on our way bumping and speeding along, laughing at the craziness.  

Then Cowboy called. He was tracking me on my phone and saw that I had stopped at my parents.  He knew I wasn’t feeling well.  He was just 20 minutes up the road, headed our way, and he could take over and get her there faster than any of us. Plus, Cowboy knows about 20 ways to get from point A to point B, so if we had any chance of helping her make her flight, he was the man for the job.

So the third lesson of the trip, the lesson I know the best, Cowboy is AMAZING.  We met up, swapped once more (man her luggage had the frequent flyer miles going at this point), hugged (again) and said goodbye (again – with loads of laughter), and Cowboy got her all the way to the airport in plenty of time.  And I’m super glad he did, because I didn’t even make it all the way back to the farm before my stomach commanded yet another scenic side trip.

Not one time did my friend complain. Not one time did she make me feel guilty.  In fact she told me later how much she enjoyed her visits with my dad and Cowboy.  Gosh, I just adore her.

Folks, that is true grace and compassion in action across the board.  To say that I am grateful, well that is an understatement.  It was a reminder of the friends and family in my life that are blessings to me each day.  

You just never know when a little bit of patience, love, and willingness to chip in is going to touch someone deep down where it counts.  Oh, and let’s just say I’m back on a diet of grilled chicken, rice, and veggies. Yum! 

Critter Stories · Farmtastic Stories

Holy Sheep

Over the years, we’ve had lots of critters wander onto the farm.  We’ve had the duck who landed out of nowhere, Yeller Feller the tailless cat who made pals with my dad, and of course the most famous stray of all, Goober who stole my heart and has stayed here at the farm.  But last week we had one of the strangest arrivals yet – a random sheep.  Yep, you heard me correctly, a Mary-had-a-little-lamb bonafide sheep.

Out in the distance Cowboy and I saw something white, but we dismissed it.  It was near a neighbor’s fence and wasn’t moving, so we thought maybe they had set something near their fence.  No biggie.

Then came day two.  As we drove into our front gate, the white thing moved. Cowboy and I looked at each other and in unison said, “Is that a sheep?”

Well my rescue mama instincts kicked in and before I would even let Cowboy get the gate shut, I had us riding through the pasture to check it out.  Poor old gal was hiding in the cedar trees and was super nervous.  Most disturbing of all, someone had put a collar of some sort around her neck, and it looked tight, seriously tight.  Now my worried farm mama kicked in, right along side of my what-are-people-doing-fury critter protector mama.  Needless to say I was a bundle of emotions and personalities.

Poor old gal was so nervous that there was no getting close to her.  Heartsick, we took some hay to her resting spot in the trees, prayed she’d realize that we were her friends, and most importantly find the water trough in the pasture.

Driving back to the barn, I said, “What are we going to do with Babalu?”

“You’ve already named her? Seriously?” Cowboy asked, shaking his head.

“Of course.  She has to have name.”

“Babalu?” he replied, looking at me incredulously.

“You know, I Love Lucy?  Ricky sang Babalu.  Sheep say baa baa.”

I’ll just let you imagine the side eye crazy look I was getting at this time.  I thought I was super clever; he clearly thought I was nuts.  As always, the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.  But I digress …

My Farmtastice Life - Babalu the sheep
Babalu soaking up the sunshine and munching the grasses. Thanks to our dear friend Trey McIntyre for capturing some pics of this old gal.

Over the next couple of days, Cowboy and I would take turns wandering out into the pasture, taking a knee, and trying to make friends.  Holy sheep, she was not having it.  The best we could do was get within five feet.  And I thought donkeys were stubborn?

Nothing breaks this farmgirl’s heart more than an animal she can’t reach.  Most of all we wanted to get that collar off of her.  Lucky for us, we also have amazing neighbors, who keep cows in our pastures.  After we gave them a heads up about Babalu, they also kept a daily lookout for her.  I guess you could say we were all officially on sheep watch.

Truth is, our pasture is not fenced for sheep and Babalu could have easily gotten out, but she chose to stay.  With grass a plenty and fresh water, and I’m quite sure all the farm critters whispering that she had found a sanctuary, she miraculously stayed.

I am delighted to report that earlier this week our amazing neighbors caught dear Babalu when she came up to visit the cows during feeding time.  They loosened her collar, took her sweet self down to another pasture that was better for sheep, and planned to get her settled with friends who have other goats and sheep.

Can I just tell you the look of sheer joy that came over Cowboy’s face when I got off the phone with the neighbors and said, “They caught Babalu and they have a place for her.”

Now I knew he was grinning because he was thinking, “Thank you, Lord.  We do not have to build a sheep pen and add another feed type to our supply list.”  Because we all know that was a very real possibility with me.  But I also like to think he was grinning because Babalu had found safety and rest.

Even the least of us deserves safety and rest.

P.S. We have no idea if Babalu wandered onto our place or someone dumped her off.  Regardless, the collar situation, her advanced age, and her skinny condition lead me to believe that life hasn’t always been kind to her.  Please people, if you have an animal you can no longer care for, give them a chance – call a rescue, a sanctuary, a friend.  They deserve better from us.

 

 

 

 

Critter Stories · Farmtastic Stories

Skunked!

My Farmtastic Life - Maybelle the dog gets skunked
Maybelle after one of her multiple baths from her skunk adventure. Doesn’t she look thrilled? Bless her little heart!

Farm life can be idyllic, and it can also be downright nuts.  This week definitely fell into the latter category.  After the high of getting to bring our mustang Smokey home after 20 days in the horsey hospital (more to come on that adventure), Cowboy and I were exhausted and decided to head to bed a little early.

Nightly chores under way, we were so close to crawling under the covers that I could just hear sleep calling us.  Last chore – let the pooches out for their nightly visit with mother nature before we all snuggled up in bed.

As I stood in the kitchen, Cowboy said, “Hey come here, something is odd.  There is all this fog in the air.”

I took one step toward the front door and yelled, “Skunk! Oh my gosh, Maybelle’s been skunked.”

Why did Cowboy not recognize this right away? Well because, bless his heart, he had the amazing timing of missing the only other episode we’ve had on the farm.  And because it literally just happened, the smell was strange and strong, but it took a few minutes to set in with that ewe-we-just-passed-a-skunk-on-the-road smell we all know and love.

Well in the less than two minutes of this exchange, Maybelle, in all of her glory, dashed in the house before we could stop her, flew up onto the sofa with the flare of a pole vaulter, and began rubbing herself up and down all the cushions in a desperate attempt to rid the  skunk smell.  All. Over. Every. Inch. Of. The. Sofa!

Oh my good gravy what a mess.  It was a three-ring circus  as we rushed to get all the dogs back outside and began doing the oh so fun job of sniffing them all to see who else made friends with Pepe Le Pew. Lucky for us, it appeared to just be Maybelle.

All of the sudden I became a drill sergeant and the orders started flying.  Take the cover off the sofa and get it in the washing machine NOW.  Open the windows. Light a candle.  Find that homemade de-skunk concoction on the Internet.

Thank goodness Cowboy is a patient man, and when I ratchet it up a notch or 20 that man just calms down and goes into action.

In less than 10 minutes we had mixed up the peroxide-baking soda-dish soap mix and were slathering it all over Maybelle.   Let’s just hope Google satellites were not taking nighttime farm pics, as Cowboy I were out on the front porch in our jammies, hose going, latex gloves on, and sniffing and washing dogs.  At one point, Cowboy even put Maybelle in the pool for a quick swim. Anything to make that smell go away.

In an effort to gain some modicum of relief, Cowboy opened the doors from one end of the house to the other and used fans to move air through the house.  Great idea, and it actually worked.

However, we have inside cats.  That left us parked outside the doors yelling, “Hey. Stop.  Not outside.” Cats, as I’m sure you can imagine, are not great listeners.  Cowboy had to hustle after Rhino the cat on more than one occasion.  Some choice words may have been said, but hey at this point who’s counting?

On the plus side, it wasn’t raining or cold and the stars were beautiful.  Trust me, there’s always a silver lining.

After much washing, mopping, and breath holding, we finally made it to bed.  And yes, princess skunks-a-lot insisted on snuggling me.  So I wrapped her in towels and held her and my breath. Yes, I’m a sucker.

After far too little shut eye, we work up at 2 a.m. (yes, 2 a.m.) to find the inside cats had knocked the screens out of the windows and were having a play date in the yard. Yes, the same yard where we had just hours earlier found a skunk.  Oh for the love of all things holy, I said a quick prayer that they had not found Mr. Le Pew’s cousin.  Good news on that front, they were just escapees – normal smelling escapees.

Grabbing flashlights, Cowboy and I sprang into action and played 22-cat pick-up in the yard. (Okay, it was only two, but seriously at this point we were darn near delirious.)  As soon as I got my hands on Shadow, the instigator, she promptly vomited, as evidently on her grand adventure she chose to eat dandelions.  Seriously?  She couldn’t at least use her time to track down a mouse or two?

And again, back to bed we went.  Dear lord, would this night ever end?

Well we are several days out now.  Maybelle has been to the vet to get all caught up on shots and to be checked out.  She needed eye drops as she took a direct spray to the face.  Sadly, our sofa did not make it, may it rest in peace.  So a new sofa is on its way to the farm, along with a new collar for Maybelle.  We’ve tried multiple solutions and slowly she is smelling less like a skunk, however she’s still far from smelling like roses.

The worst part? I’m quite sure if that little pup sees a skunk again, she’ll be right back out there on the chase thinking she’s found another friend.  On that note, for the foreseeable future, Cowboy will be doing skunk patrol prior to our nighttime chores.  Gosh, I love that man!