Gracie came over to see Cowboy. Gracie used to live here with her sister Joyjoy. They moved away to their own house but yesterday Gracie came back.
Pinky didn't see her, thank Goodness. Pinky was very upset when Gracie moved away.
Pinky goes by a French name now, Zut Alors, so maybe she doesn't remember the old Pinky memories. She doesn't seem to remember anything to tell the truth, except dinnertime. Even if she doesn't remember dinnertime she is always checking.
"Is it dinnertime? What time is it? Dinnertime?"
Anyway, last night Gracie came over and in the morning she went out with the barn babies to enjoy the pouring rain after spending the evening with the three buckling boys. The barn babies are Zydeco, Zenyatta, Zapricot, Zedoary, and Joy.
Joy is called Big Joy because Gracie's sister's name is Joyjoy, and she is called Little Joy, although someday she probably will be bigger than Big Joy. But anyway Big Joy lives with the babies because she is too shy and retiring and if she goes around anyone her own size she never gets anything to eat because she just stands in the corner quaking. So Big Joy lives with the little babies so she can pretend to be a big shot.
Out they all went into the rain and then all of a sudden Gracie had a brain flash when she saw Cowboy because yesterday when she saw him she wasn't that interested.
But this time she goggled her eyes and gave a "WOWZA!" look and dragged the farmer to the gate to let her in to Cowboy's muddy love shack.
Tomorrow she will wake up and wonder if it was all a dream.
Anyway pretty soon her new family came to get Gracie. Melody of course tried to insert herself into the limelight when she saw the potential for a new audience but she was too fat to fit through the gate. So I was rightly picked up and carried around as befits me. Everyone remarked how adorable I am, although I did not get any treats.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
One of Those Days, or, Everything Running Smoothly As Usual
It was one of those days.
First of all it was 12 degrees in the morning, which is too cold.
The wind had blown the roof and one of the walls off the rugrat barn, which is the sun chalet for the babies who live in the shed. They were confused when they came out of their cozy shed, but that is not unusual. They looked at each other cautiously, to see if the others were also surprised. Their expressions said: is it just me? Or did this building used to have a top part? And a wall in the back?
The consensus was inconclusive. After all, it is certainly possible that some of the things we take for granted never even existed. But maybe they did. Anyway, the rugrats pressed on gamely, accepting the new reality.
Zut Alors perched on her own tiny ice rink - the frozen-solid water bucket - to mull things over.
The farmer put a special coat on Wendell to go out for his six second piddle because it was so cold. It was a very stylish coat that the farmer's French Bulldog used to wear, black and sleek with a fake-fur leopard-spotted collar. Very European.
"Do not lose that coat, Wendell," the farmer instructed. Wendell zipped outside and was back scratching at the door in six seconds. Without the coat.
So that was how the day started and from there things just got worse, with the farmer spending most of the day toting water in buckets and chopping wood by hand, and trying to make cheese even though it was way too cold for the cheese to drain properly.
The big brown truck had a dead battery. The little brown truck had a dead battery too. Because it was 12 degrees. The farmer was also getting a dead battery, right around dusk. Which comes at around 3:30 or so these days.
Then suddenly to enliven things, a water pipe under the porch burst. Water gushed merrily under the house into the crawl space. The farmer huffed down to the wellhouse and shut off all the water. There is a lot of water here, water to the house and the barn and the dairy and the cottage and the greenhouse and all the outside taps, most of which were covered with a foot of pipe wrap anyway and completely unusable.
Then the farmer crawled under the house, where it was pitch dark by now, and where the previously gushed water was freezing fast into little ice puddles which took a lot of the fun out of crawling around in the dark under a house in 12 degree weather. The farmer was looking for the water shutoff so that just the house could be shut off and the cottage and barn and so on turned back on.
Because it's nice to have a little water now and then. You can't make tea without it.
The farmer couldn't find the water shutoff and so crawled back out to get a flashlight and to call the neighbor who is a plumber. First the farmer tried to go on the Internet to look up the neighbor plumber's number, but of course the internet wasn't working, it hardly ever does. On the plus side, the phone wasn't working either, so it didn't matter that much.
The farmer went back outside to use the cellphone to call another neighbor to ask the other neighbor to call back with the number for first neighbor, the plumber neighbor. Then went to examine the burst pipe and collect some good flashlights, because if you crawl under a frozen house with just one flashlight it is a dead certainty that the battery in it will expire as soon as you get within three feet of the water shutoff.
Before that was even finished the second neighbor pulled in the driveway with a full set of flashlights and crawled under the house and shut off the water. It was agreed that the burst pipe could probably be fixed pretty easily, and that all in all things could have been worse, but that the pipe fixing would best be left until after a couple of days of thawing.
Then finally the farmer came out to feed everyone in the pitch dark, two hours later than we were all supposed to be fed.
All things considered, everyone politely pretended that everything was on schedule and running smoothly.
Sometimes that is the best policy.
First of all it was 12 degrees in the morning, which is too cold.
The wind had blown the roof and one of the walls off the rugrat barn, which is the sun chalet for the babies who live in the shed. They were confused when they came out of their cozy shed, but that is not unusual. They looked at each other cautiously, to see if the others were also surprised. Their expressions said: is it just me? Or did this building used to have a top part? And a wall in the back?
The consensus was inconclusive. After all, it is certainly possible that some of the things we take for granted never even existed. But maybe they did. Anyway, the rugrats pressed on gamely, accepting the new reality.
Zut Alors perched on her own tiny ice rink - the frozen-solid water bucket - to mull things over.
The farmer put a special coat on Wendell to go out for his six second piddle because it was so cold. It was a very stylish coat that the farmer's French Bulldog used to wear, black and sleek with a fake-fur leopard-spotted collar. Very European.
"Do not lose that coat, Wendell," the farmer instructed. Wendell zipped outside and was back scratching at the door in six seconds. Without the coat.
So that was how the day started and from there things just got worse, with the farmer spending most of the day toting water in buckets and chopping wood by hand, and trying to make cheese even though it was way too cold for the cheese to drain properly.
The big brown truck had a dead battery. The little brown truck had a dead battery too. Because it was 12 degrees. The farmer was also getting a dead battery, right around dusk. Which comes at around 3:30 or so these days.
Then suddenly to enliven things, a water pipe under the porch burst. Water gushed merrily under the house into the crawl space. The farmer huffed down to the wellhouse and shut off all the water. There is a lot of water here, water to the house and the barn and the dairy and the cottage and the greenhouse and all the outside taps, most of which were covered with a foot of pipe wrap anyway and completely unusable.
Then the farmer crawled under the house, where it was pitch dark by now, and where the previously gushed water was freezing fast into little ice puddles which took a lot of the fun out of crawling around in the dark under a house in 12 degree weather. The farmer was looking for the water shutoff so that just the house could be shut off and the cottage and barn and so on turned back on.
Because it's nice to have a little water now and then. You can't make tea without it.
The farmer couldn't find the water shutoff and so crawled back out to get a flashlight and to call the neighbor who is a plumber. First the farmer tried to go on the Internet to look up the neighbor plumber's number, but of course the internet wasn't working, it hardly ever does. On the plus side, the phone wasn't working either, so it didn't matter that much.
The farmer went back outside to use the cellphone to call another neighbor to ask the other neighbor to call back with the number for first neighbor, the plumber neighbor. Then went to examine the burst pipe and collect some good flashlights, because if you crawl under a frozen house with just one flashlight it is a dead certainty that the battery in it will expire as soon as you get within three feet of the water shutoff.
Before that was even finished the second neighbor pulled in the driveway with a full set of flashlights and crawled under the house and shut off the water. It was agreed that the burst pipe could probably be fixed pretty easily, and that all in all things could have been worse, but that the pipe fixing would best be left until after a couple of days of thawing.
Then finally the farmer came out to feed everyone in the pitch dark, two hours later than we were all supposed to be fed.
All things considered, everyone politely pretended that everything was on schedule and running smoothly.
Sometimes that is the best policy.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Big Orange Milk
The farmer started getting wild-eyed again as Jammies drip-dropped back down in production. Big Orange was ushered in to be the farmer's personal milker, and her milk was pronounced pretty good.
"But she is no Jammies."
You might think a comment like that would hurt Big Orange's feelings but not one bit. Her goal in life is to stay under the radar.
The temperature crashed down into the 20s which meant all the outside water had to be turned off. This caused a lot of cursing with water being schlepped around in buckets. Wendell retired to his couch cushion, only hurtling outside under duress to pee on the truck tires. Then dashing back into the house. He has perfected the six second sub-zero piddle.
Peaches of course got to wear Baby Belle's blue jacket which had been retired "forever" (six months) because Peaches is very sensitive to cold. Meaning that she forgot to grow her fur out because she is only half Nigerian.
Two visiting lady goats came over for the purpose of getting to know Cowboy, my father. After the introductions Cowboy made a few half-hearted attempts at romance, but one of the visiting ladies was a big red Nubian and before long she was chasing him all around the buck pen, with her little sidekick bringing up the rear, in a festive Yuletide parade.
He fled energetically.
You know what they say. Cold hooves, warm heart.
"But she is no Jammies."
You might think a comment like that would hurt Big Orange's feelings but not one bit. Her goal in life is to stay under the radar.
The temperature crashed down into the 20s which meant all the outside water had to be turned off. This caused a lot of cursing with water being schlepped around in buckets. Wendell retired to his couch cushion, only hurtling outside under duress to pee on the truck tires. Then dashing back into the house. He has perfected the six second sub-zero piddle.
Peaches of course got to wear Baby Belle's blue jacket which had been retired "forever" (six months) because Peaches is very sensitive to cold. Meaning that she forgot to grow her fur out because she is only half Nigerian.
Two visiting lady goats came over for the purpose of getting to know Cowboy, my father. After the introductions Cowboy made a few half-hearted attempts at romance, but one of the visiting ladies was a big red Nubian and before long she was chasing him all around the buck pen, with her little sidekick bringing up the rear, in a festive Yuletide parade.
He fled energetically.
You know what they say. Cold hooves, warm heart.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Not So Cold Turkey
It has been repeatedly shown throughout history that those who dish it out cannot necessarily take it. This applies to Winnie for example who likes to think she is All That but scuttles away whimpering and twitching like Lady Macbeth if Wronny gives her the Evil Eye. And the same for Peaches the supposedly mild-mannered mini-Mancha who cannot even get a crust of sandwich bread from a tiny LaMancha baby. Since she was two weeks old Zydeco (aka Zydeco the Fearless) has stood her ground against Peaches.
Right now Peaches rules the three sad weaned boys completely by terror, a reign which certainly will end as soon as Mr. Jimmy realizes that he is already almost as tall as The Peach Fuhrer. Then Peaches will go back to cowering and wringing her hooves.
But anyway that is a roundabout way of saying that somehow primarily by sighing and moaning and producing exotic treats including Swedish Fish, some very large grapes, and a bowl of warm oatmeal with brown sugar in it, the farmer was able to get Jammies to eke out enough milk for a latte.
Meanwhile I cling grimly and milklessly to life, scraping by on orchard grass, local grass, peas, cob, maple leaves, vanilla wafers, ginger snaps, and whatever other tiny smatterings I can glean from the cruel world.
They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. Turkey, apparently, not so much.
Right now Peaches rules the three sad weaned boys completely by terror, a reign which certainly will end as soon as Mr. Jimmy realizes that he is already almost as tall as The Peach Fuhrer. Then Peaches will go back to cowering and wringing her hooves.
But anyway that is a roundabout way of saying that somehow primarily by sighing and moaning and producing exotic treats including Swedish Fish, some very large grapes, and a bowl of warm oatmeal with brown sugar in it, the farmer was able to get Jammies to eke out enough milk for a latte.
Meanwhile I cling grimly and milklessly to life, scraping by on orchard grass, local grass, peas, cob, maple leaves, vanilla wafers, ginger snaps, and whatever other tiny smatterings I can glean from the cruel world.
They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. Turkey, apparently, not so much.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
A Dark Day
Precious Jammies came in heat and went down and got bred to Cowboy. And now the farmer is wearing a black armband and a somber expression. Because as soon as Jammies got bred she somehow managed to shut off her milk. Just like that.
No more candy milk for the farmer. No more candy lattes. Nichts, Naught, Nothing.
The farmer is on weaning.
Everyone tiptoes and whispers.
No more candy milk for the farmer. No more candy lattes. Nichts, Naught, Nothing.
The farmer is on weaning.
Everyone tiptoes and whispers.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Barn Nessie
As many of you probably know, the Northwest with its deep primeval forests is home to many strange creatures. There is Sasquatch of course. And the vampires of Forks.
And now there have been some chilling sightings around the farm. A medium-sized potbellied creature with four legs and a rustling eyeless paper head appeared INSIDE the barn on several recent occasions, throwing Walker the Talker into a panic. Lori was visiting and she was able to snap this photo of the creature before it burped loudly and laid down to take a nap.
And now there have been some chilling sightings around the farm. A medium-sized potbellied creature with four legs and a rustling eyeless paper head appeared INSIDE the barn on several recent occasions, throwing Walker the Talker into a panic. Lori was visiting and she was able to snap this photo of the creature before it burped loudly and laid down to take a nap.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
So Many Thanks
We must be thankful for what we have. Even if it is horrible.
So I would like to thank the rain for coming down from the sky in torrents. I would like to thank the mud for filling the barnyard. I would like to thank Jammies for conserving her milk for future generations. I would like to thank my lucky stars that I am not a turkey.
I would like to thank my fans for not hating me because I am beautiful.
I would like to thank the farmer down in Chehalis who grew the pea hay.
I would like to thank Melody for all of her preening and simpering.
I would like to thank Pinky, Jr. for not biting my tail (yet) today. I would like to thank Joy for hogging all the hay. I would like to thank my mother for the milk she used to give me that I do not get any more. I would like to thank Walker the Talker for his many incomprehensible ideas. I would like to thank Tangy for her unique swordfish show walk. I would like to thank Zydeco for giving Melody a thrashing.
I would like to thank the farmer for giving me one tiny morsel of grain so that I would not completely starve to death. I would like to thank Wendell for sleeping on a cushion all day.
I would like to thank you, whoever you are, for whatever it is you did. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
So I would like to thank the rain for coming down from the sky in torrents. I would like to thank the mud for filling the barnyard. I would like to thank Jammies for conserving her milk for future generations. I would like to thank my lucky stars that I am not a turkey.
I would like to thank my fans for not hating me because I am beautiful.
I would like to thank the farmer down in Chehalis who grew the pea hay.
I would like to thank Melody for all of her preening and simpering.
I would like to thank Pinky, Jr. for not biting my tail (yet) today. I would like to thank Joy for hogging all the hay. I would like to thank my mother for the milk she used to give me that I do not get any more. I would like to thank Walker the Talker for his many incomprehensible ideas. I would like to thank Tangy for her unique swordfish show walk. I would like to thank Zydeco for giving Melody a thrashing.
I would like to thank the farmer for giving me one tiny morsel of grain so that I would not completely starve to death. I would like to thank Wendell for sleeping on a cushion all day.
I would like to thank you, whoever you are, for whatever it is you did. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Jammies Rennt
Jammies the stingy mini-Mancha came in heat this morning. She stood at the fence and bawled like a calf.
"Come on Jammies," said the farmer. Off Jammies went to see Cowboy, taking her little bag of candy milk with her.
Jammies went in with Cowboy and their love came to fruition before the farmer could close the gate behind her. Jammies turned around and knocked politely at the gate.
"You are going to stay in there for a while, Jammies," said the farmer. "Just to be on the safe side."
The farmer went in the house and Jammies started running. She was almost always one step ahead of Cowboy, indicating to him quite clearly that she had gotten over her crush on him. Back and forth they ran all day, with Jammies trying to snatch mouthfuls of hay as she ran past the feeder.
I watched the little bag of milk bounce around.
I could have told Jammies how to get out of there. My Aunt Hannah Belle showed me one time.
But I guess if she wants to keep that milk for herself she can just figure it out on her own, using her keen mini-Mancha intelligence.
"Come on Jammies," said the farmer. Off Jammies went to see Cowboy, taking her little bag of candy milk with her.
Jammies went in with Cowboy and their love came to fruition before the farmer could close the gate behind her. Jammies turned around and knocked politely at the gate.
"You are going to stay in there for a while, Jammies," said the farmer. "Just to be on the safe side."
The farmer went in the house and Jammies started running. She was almost always one step ahead of Cowboy, indicating to him quite clearly that she had gotten over her crush on him. Back and forth they ran all day, with Jammies trying to snatch mouthfuls of hay as she ran past the feeder.
I watched the little bag of milk bounce around.
I could have told Jammies how to get out of there. My Aunt Hannah Belle showed me one time.
But I guess if she wants to keep that milk for herself she can just figure it out on her own, using her keen mini-Mancha intelligence.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Got Milk? Me Neither.
As you know I explained to the farmer months ago that I did not want to go on weaning. This is where you do not get any milk. The farmer said, "fine, you are Baby Belle, Jr., so I am not going to put you on weaning."
I thought this was very sensible and civilized.
Then today my mother Belle Pepper - MY OWN MOTHER - put me on weaning! She would not give me any milk! NOT ONE DROP!
I told her PLEASE BE SENSIBLE! THE FARMER SAYS IT IS OK! I AM BABY BELLE JUNIOR!
She turned a deaf ear on me.
I said MOTHER! PLEASE BE SENSIBLE! I AM ONLY FIVE MONTHS OLD! I NEED MILK!
She turned a deaf ear on me.
I looked around and there was several others with plenty of milk they did not need, even Jammies had milk and so I said, "JAMMIES! WHAT ABOUT THAT MILK IN YOUR LITTLE BAG??!! I COULD DRINK IT FOR YOU AND YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO CARRY IT AROUND!"
Jammies turned a deaf ear on me. Then so did Betsy, and Winnie, and Wronny, and Big Orange, and everyone else.
PLEASE! I said. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I NEED MILK! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU!
"You will get used to it," said my brother Zane Gray. "I am not even interested in milk any more."
PLEASE! I said. PLEASE!!!!
I thought this was very sensible and civilized.
Then today my mother Belle Pepper - MY OWN MOTHER - put me on weaning! She would not give me any milk! NOT ONE DROP!
I told her PLEASE BE SENSIBLE! THE FARMER SAYS IT IS OK! I AM BABY BELLE JUNIOR!
She turned a deaf ear on me.
I said MOTHER! PLEASE BE SENSIBLE! I AM ONLY FIVE MONTHS OLD! I NEED MILK!
She turned a deaf ear on me.
I looked around and there was several others with plenty of milk they did not need, even Jammies had milk and so I said, "JAMMIES! WHAT ABOUT THAT MILK IN YOUR LITTLE BAG??!! I COULD DRINK IT FOR YOU AND YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO CARRY IT AROUND!"
Jammies turned a deaf ear on me. Then so did Betsy, and Winnie, and Wronny, and Big Orange, and everyone else.
PLEASE! I said. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I NEED MILK! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU!
"You will get used to it," said my brother Zane Gray. "I am not even interested in milk any more."
PLEASE! I said. PLEASE!!!!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Melody
Several people keep asking me for a picture of Melody. Well I don't have one and I don't know why you would want one because she is just a little very plain whitish goat. She has a couple of drab brown patches to go with the white. Well people kept asking like she was a big movie star or something and since we don't have a camera that works I sat down and did a very good drawing of her. It is an excellent likeness of her even including the drab patches although I have to say it is by no means perfect. For one thing it does not catch the true simpering quality of her expression. She is quite a simperer. But anyway here it is and I hope you are all happy.
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