Jan. 15, 2003 ~ Purple bandages and cheese in a can
Several readers wrote to me about yesterday's entry. Seems other folks are very happy with their post offices, too. It was a pleasure reading about them, and about life in these small towns.
Yesterday I came out of the library and found two gift bags in the bed of my truck. It had "Susan" written all over it. Not literally, as there was no name on either sack, but they were obviously from her. I recognized the packaging. And smiled!
Sweetness is wearing a clean purple bandage this morning. It was misting rain just a bit, and I hated to change it, but it seemed the best thing to do. We have to be sure the bandage is not too tight, so it needs to be changed fairly often, regardless of the weather. Dakotah puts on a show of being a grump, but it's just macho posturing. At heart, he's a big soft baby. He stood so nicely, the essence of patience, while I applied the ointment and the bandages. That reminds me, I really need to wash my barn coat. "My" barn coat is really Husband's. We've had it about twenty-odd years now, and the poor thing is showing its age. It's been ripped by barbed wire, torn by briers, stained by who-knows-what, and the stuffing is falling out. Much like a beloved but worn-out teddy bear. It's covered with horse slobber and soggy horse dirt, which is why it has now been tossed in the washer. Remember all those foot soaks? While he soaked, Dakotah nibbled all over my coat, and it shows. And when it was time to remove his leg from the bucket, the coat sleeve got pretty wet and dirty.
It's a good thing that the animals have no choice in the matter of who takes care of them, because if they did, I would be SO fired. On rare occasions I sleep late and am pokey about getting outside, or else I get up early but it's too cold/hot/wet/whatever and I'm still pokey about going outside. I would hate to hear what the animals have to say about me on those occasions. Today was one. Slept till 7:30. Shame, shame. On a weekday!
Imagine my surprise to see Star, one of the front porch cats, on the back porch this morning. And Blackie, formerly a back porch cat, has moved into the barn. Accordingly, adjustments were made. There are now six food bowls in the barn, which is enough for the first round of cats. They won't all come out at once. Some of them are quite shy, bless their hearts. But six of them want to eat just as soon as they see me, and it's good to have enough food bowls for everyone. One of the wilder ones even seems to be taming down some. She's almost to the point of voluntarily letting me pet her. It's funny... several of the barn cats look very much alike. There are two orange ones, mother and son, with almost the exact same coloring and markings. Son (Sunshine) is tame, Mother is not. I have accidentally petted Mama Cat, thinking it was Sunshine, and boy, did she hiss up a storm! Same thing with the tortoiseshells. There are two, possibly three of them, and one is almost tame; the others are definitely not. But they look so much alike, and I have sometimes tried to pet Miss Almost Tame, only to find that it was one of the wild ones. Oops.
Speaking of cats, Misha has discovered cheese-in-a-can. You know the stuff? He thinks it's great! But really, he thinks every kind of food is great. He wants to try whatever we're having, and if it is something that won't actually hurt him, we let him have a taste. He almost always likes it.
Mother-in-law remains about the same. No idea when she gets to leave the hospital, but we hope it is soon.
One of College Boy's classes this semester is Beginning Martial Arts. He took taekwondo classes for years and is a second-degree black belt. Luckily, his instructor is a fifth-degree. He has, at times, been in the position of being taught by instructors he outranked. Son is happy about taking this class, even though it is technically for beginners. He loved taekwondo and never wanted to quit. His school shut down a few years ago, and the other "nearby" schools were not within convenient driving distance, so he had to quit. My decision, not his. Had I been Super Mom I would have found a way to get him there, but my cape is pretty dusty these days. After several years, the Super Mom bit had gotten old. And now Son is back in taekwondo class, happy as can be, and I have one more thing to worry about! He's been knocked unconscious on several occasions, and there were other injuries, but we will have to hope for the best.
Are girls any easier?
I thought not.
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