I bought some little pumpkins at Whole Foods recently. Don’t they make a nice addition to the autumn decor on our entry table?
But he usually looks like he’s smiling:
And then there are the “balcony kittens”. Dharma had her kittens on the balcony just before we went to New Orleans and they resided peacefully up there in a laundry basket. Until they decided to explore the greater world. I saw the first one climb out. I wasn’t sure what to do with them. The two moms aren’t great friends so I didn’t think putting them all together in the laundry room would be a great idea. Plus, Dharma was afraid of Shiloh since she’d never been around a dog before. That’s why she was pretty much living on the balcony and had the kittens there in the first place. I thought about moving them to the front porch but again, since Dharma was afraid of Shiloh and that’s where he hangs out most of the time, I just wasn’t sure how that would work.
David and I talked it over and he convinced me that they wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall off the balcony. Well, I can’t say I was totally convinced but I did make him promise to handle whatever happened as a result of this laissez-faire approach to kitten rearing.
And then it happened. I checked on the kittens early Sunday morning and one was missing! I told David and he went downstairs to see what happened. I feared the worst. But in just a minute he came back upstairs holding a perfectly fine kitten. He had found it asleep on Shiloh on the front porch. We are guessing that it scrambled down one of the vine-covered stone pillars but when it couldn’t go back up, decided to make the best of things with the sweetest dog on the planet.
So now they are living on the front porch. The kittens adore Shiloh so their mama decided he must be okay. I occasionally see them nose to nose, even. He hasn’t *quite* won over Berkeley, Dharma’s brother who is the only other cat here who had never seen a dog before Shiloh, but he’s getting close.
Now tell me that isn’t just the sweetest little face:
I had been planning to get Dharma spayed after we get back from New Orleans. However I noticed this past week or two that she looked a little, um, broad? I was hoping she was just fat but this morning she presented us with five kittens (plus one that didn’t make it).
Along with Tillie’s four cuties…:
…that makes nine kittens.
And here’s a picture of the chicks my cousin is raising for me along with his until they are big enough to be outdoors:
Then of course there is the incomparable Shiloh:
When we get back from New Orleans I will have three raised beds to finish weeding and then plant:
Yeah, I think I will have plenty to keep me busy here on Apple Tree Farm.
We haven’t had a dog for about a year and a half. Our sweet Pyrenees, Duke, disappeared – we think someone shot him. Then Emily died and Iggy, the dog I rescued off the highway disappeared about the same time. For the first time in my life, I was dog-less. We could have gone out and bought one but when you live in the country you get used to taking in strays and I honestly figured it was only a matter of time until one showed up. But the months dragged on and the raccoons moved in. And the coyotes, like the one I saw on our BACK PATIO a couple of weeks ago. Not only did I want a dog for the companion factor but out in the country it’s really a necessity.
So I put out the word to lots of people that I wanted a Great Pyrenees. I’d always thought Golden Retrievers were the best breed – and they *are* wonderful – but after having Duke I changed my allegiance. A more laid-back, non-agressive breed does not exist and no one can deny that they are gorgeous.
But the main issue for me was the non-aggressive trait. You see, several years ago I had a very traumatic experience with a dog and for the first time in my life I became afraid of them. I now have a bit of understanding of what post-traumatic stress syndrome is like. On one of our trips to New Orleans, a couple of dogs growled at each other on the street near where I was walking and I nearly climbed out of my skin as I quickly moved to the other side of the crowd. I know it’s not entirely rational but even teeny, tiny dogs give me the jitters. Or maybe that *does* make sense as small dogs tend to be yippy, yappy things and often snap at people.
“Meet Bullet! He is a 2 year old, Great Pyrenees that was found Tuesday night with a .45 caliber bullet in his front leg. We are currently trying to raise money for the surgery to plate his humerus (front leg) that was shattered by the bullet. Donations are being taken at Arlington Animal Clinic until 5:30pm today, and again during normal business hours next week. PetSense is also accepting donations for Bullet, and they are hosting a carwash to help with the cause on Sunday, from 1-4pm. Please help in any way possible. Bullet greatly appreciates your help! He will be at the Car Wash some on Sunday so come and meet him!”
So the donations poured in and “Bullet”, which is what they were calling him, got his surgery. He has pins and a metal rod, plus an external fixator, but they believe he will make a full recovery and regain use of the leg.
You see, instead of leaving him at the clinic over the weekend, which is what I had assumed she would do, Stephanie took him to her own house. And that’s where he remained until we picked him up Monday night when we returned from our trip to Kansas City…which I’ll tell you about later.
So now we have the dog I’d been hoping and praying for. He’s got a lot of healing to do and he’s kind of high maintenance at the moment. We never had a big dog in the house other than in the laundry room but Shiloh is already my shadow and really wants to be with me a lot.
Beauregard is the surname of a well known Civil War soldier who was killed in the battle of Shiloh. His ghost, it is said, wanders the streets of New Orleans at night whispering “Shiloh”.