We've had one heck of a year for dogs in this place. We lost Bailey to an accidental ingestion from a neighbor's careless poisoning (we assume). It was terribly traumatic, but thankfully only to the adults that had to cope with it in the middle of the night. None of the kids had to witness the horror of a painful death. Mark and I woke to Bailey in full seizure and, despite our best efforts, we couldn't get her to the vet in time. It was horrifying. I'll talk more about alternative ways to manage your pests in a future post, so you don't become the reason someone had to listen to their dog howl itself to death in pain. Integrated pest management is more important than what you think is the easy way out. But I'll save that for later. Pinky swear.
Maya we lost because, well, she was 14-years-old and tired, in pain, and could hardly walk anymore and so we had to make a choice. It was a beautiful, peaceful death that actually felt honest and emotionally raw, but in a closure kind of way. We gathered around her, the whole farm, and said our goodbyes while the home-visit-vet helped ease her along. Then we buried her under the tree near the chicken coop and watched as our little girls lovingly filled in the dirt and topped her grave with rocks and tears.
And then we were a farm without a dog. And that is unacceptable.
So Lorien went and got herself this guy:
His name is Falcor and he is our wee little (spelled slightly differently) luck dragon. He is perfectly calm in the chicken coop and even allowed our newly hatched chicks to climb all over him. He's ridiculous, but in a good way. In this photo, we had just thrown him into a pool (it was really hot outside) and he retaliated by licking all the pool water off my legs. I thought I was gonna die, for sure.
After Mark and I got back from our Epic Road Trip™ we set to work finding a dog for our half of the household as well. We ran across this fella at the County Animal Shelter and with his odd Greyhound/Shepherd cross and sweet temperament, we couldn't resist. Fezzik is having some adjustment issues... I mean, he can jump off a ten foot deck and run like a track star, so that's been fun. And if he's not right next to you in the house, he's pretty sure he's going to die. And he thinks he's a lap dog. A 70 pound lapdog. But he has so much potential, we're going to make it work, dammit.
And so we are full up on dogs! And now we feel a little more like a legitimate farm again. Which is nice. And I'm sure will provide us with plenty of stories. For now, know that if you come on by the farm there will be furry tales and eager faces to accost you. But you may get licked. Incessantly.
And if you threaten one of us, you will face the wrath of a luck dragon and a giant. Good luck with that.