Hutt, #11, is in the House!

Introducing our newest little critter - Black Labrador, and number 11 in the dog countdown - Hutt...

I'd like you to think that Jay is overcome with joy - but really it's very sunny!

Jay and I traveled across state lines to pick up Mr. Hutt last weekend.  It was a long haul - 8 hours one-way, but we enjoyed our time together and were super excited to finally meet the pup.  Hutt made the trek home without huge upset or mess.  We stopped a lot, but, overall, he was very well behaved and only whined and barked a little, which was to be expected.  We had ripped him away from his mother, after all.

The first meeting with Hank the Tank II was pretty uneventful.  It's obvious Hutt was looking for his mama though.

"Are you my mother?"

We are adjusting to life with a new puppy, which is much like a newborn baby/inquisitive toddler. Nothing left on the ground or within reach is safe, and I do mean nothing.  Bedroom doors are kept shut, shoes are on the counter, or up high, nothing is left untouched.  We know it will get much worse before it gets better.  That's just part of it.  (We've been through this process a few times, you know.)

I'm very thankful to Jay for planning the acquisition of Hutt around his long break at work.  In the past, that has not always been the case and it makes for an unhappy Sarah!  I'll have my shot at night-time duty this weekend when Jay is working nights and I'm left to march the fella outside at 2:00 a.m...though I may put a different plan into action.  It's called - not waking up to wake up the puppy to go potty, let him tell me it's time to go!!  We'll see how that goes.

Here's a little irony, or what I like to think of as a Godincidence.  Last summer when Jay started thinking about a new retrieving dog, he picked out a name - Hutt Jedi for the future pup.  This is months and months before he found this puppy.  I teased him about the name because I told him people would think he was a Star Wars junkie - and with the release of the latest movie, you know they would.  He didn't care, Hutt it was - though he decided to drop the "Jedi" from his common name.

We meet the dog guy and his two young sons at a truck stop to make the exchange and Jay asks the little boys what they have been calling the puppy.  They respond with "Bossk."  Dad chimes in and says, "Yeah, we are huge Star Wars fans; all the puppies in this litter were named after Star Wars characters."  How 'bout that?  Is that not the craziest thing ever?  There could not be a more perfect name than Hutt for our little guy.  Too funny.

I posted this picture of Hutt lounging in the recliner the other night while we played Dominos and a couple of the comments are hilarious.   "Best of luck to you, buddy!" and "Hutt...we need to talk. Be careful.  Be VERY careful."  Those two were my favorites, written by friends that know us a little too well, I do believe.

How can you resist that face?

Here's to you #11 and our new adventures!

A new addition is on the way

And no, we're not adding another human to our family...we will be bringing home a pup full of joy this weekend, and it can't come soon enough.  I don't think I wrote about the aftermath of putting Abby down, but in the week or two that followed Abby's passing, Jay - in a moment of insanity - rescued a small, black, starving kitten from the middle of the road on his way home from work one night.

"We'll nurse it back to health and then find it a home" he says.  Yeah, because that always works out so well for us...

Bones, as he was so appropriately named, warmed up to us quickly.  He was barely five or six weeks old, had an extra thumb - (Google tells me he is a polydactyl kitty) and was almost skin and bones. He was pitiful.  Jay fed the poor thing and when the kids and I got home, Madolyn gave it a bath. After a day or two, Bones was right at home.  We loved the little booger too, but Jay and I both agreed that three cats in the house was just too much.  I'm not a fan of cat litter to begin with, but you add a third cat in the mix and UGH!

Boots & Bones up front; Josie in the back

Thankfully, we found Bones a good home - Madolyn's BF took him in and is now smothering their bunch to death :)  He is a cuddler.  But you can tell that our kitties, Josie and Boots, miss the little stinker.  The first couple days, Josie was on the hunt - looking high and low for that black little flash with the extra thumb.  We forgot that Josie was kind of like that when the litter of kittens left.  So she and Boots have had to resort to their own games to create fun, and you can tell it is just not quite the same.  (Boots has become the more dominant kitty and can overpower Jo.  Josie could easily take down Bones!)

And then there's Hank the Tank II - he is completely lost without Abby.  He and Abby used to follow and chase my car, then as Abby got older, she quit and so did Hank.  Well, Hank is now back at it...following me down the lane and into the road.  He also tries to sneak in the car or truck whenever he can.  He will weasel his way in if you don't watch it.  We think he is simply bored to death.  He mopes around the house too...he's lost his best friend.  Thankfully, he has his bud, Lane, or he'd really be in trouble.

But just in the nick of time - a new addition is on the way.  Jay has been talking about getting a hunting dog for almost a year now, maybe over a year...and after Abby passed, he started the search. He found one and we will be bringing the little guy home on Sunday.

We've been getting ready for the critter and have the crate in the living room.  Lane has been trying to get Hank to go in there - he is not having any part of it.  The cats are quite intrigued though.  A few mornings ago when I came out into the living room, Josie was sitting right by the crate door, staring inside.  She is super curious.  Last night Lane got the puppy toys out and got Hank all worked up.

We're all getting wound up for the new guy's arrival...

Josie, Boots and Hank the Tank II have no idea what is about to happen...hahahaha.

#5, RIP Sweet Abby

A few weeks ago Abby acted really weird for about 36 hours.  We were worried at first, but she perked up and we thought she must have gotten into something bad for her tummy and was fine.  Last weekend, she started acting funny again and she didn't recuperate like before.

We have, at times, been annoyed with Abby because of her extreme loyalty, myself especially.  The common dog phrase, "Faithful Companion," best describes Abby.  She was at my side if I was outside, always.

Every single time I headed out on a big walk, she was jumping at my feet ready to go, and then would proceed to literally walk on my feet, at times even causing me to trip or stumble. Quite frankly, with my clumsiness and her attached-to-my-ankle notion, I am surprised I have never fallen and hurt myself.

Just this past year or so, Jay noticed something kind of neat about #5.  Abby would stay between me and whatever might try to come near me on a walk.  If another dog would start to come my way, she would move in.  If Jay and I tried to switch places to trick her, she would move too.  She was my fearless protector...annoying as it would sometimes be.

This past year, she got to where she would not get up as quickly as she used to, she had sort of a glaze to her eyes and we wondered if she could even see or hear.  I got to calling her granny because she hobbled around like an old lady, somewhat deaf and blind.  She has been good for Hank the Tank II though because she stopped running around and kind of keeps Hank home, for the most part.  (Hank isn't too brave on his own.)

We have no idea what her ailment is, but as a family, we all agreed there was no reason to prolong her suffering.  I am thankful that she didn't wander off and die as some dogs like to do...although that might have been easier on Jay, who had the daunting task of taking her to the vet this morning.

Farewell, my faithful companion - the longest living dog we have ever had - you certainly won't be alone in Wilhoit dog heaven.

Our bundles of joy

I mentioned that Boots, our sweet kitty, had five precious kittens on my birthday.  That was four weeks ago yesterday.  Those baby kittens are absolutely adorable and we are having so much fun playing with them.

The first couple of weeks they are pretty boring.  They don't have their eyes open, they pretty much sleep and eat and that's about it.  Then their eyes opened and they wobbled around a bit.  Now they are learning to walk, run, play, climb, fight and explore.  And it's so fun!

Even though Jay had arranged a box with a towel in the back of our closet for Boots, she decided a much better birth place would be up inside the box springs of Lane's bed.  That black material that lines the underneath of the box springs had a couple tears in it...just big enough for Boots to crawl up in there and bed down.  Boots is so noisy though, Lane quickly discovered her hiding place.  It was so hard to see up in there and even harder to leave her alone until she was done.  For the longest time we thought there were only four kittens, but when we finally moved them, we found five.  We were so excited!

After a few attempts to relocate the babies, Boots finally adjusted to the closet and left the babies alone...until it was time to move again.  Someone suggested a small kiddie pool...hmm, great idea.  Only afterwards did I think about the play on words there...kitty pool...ha!  We lined the bottom of the pool with towels and put their box in it.  (Later, Lane cut 'doors' in the original box lid and flipped it upside down to make them a little house.)  The kittens didn't mind the big move, but Boots sure did. Again, she tried to relocate her babies a couple times, but eventually accepted the upgrade.

  Another week has passed and the little felines have figured out how to escape the pool walls...so they are sort of roaming free at this point.  They have their towel and box in the corner of the living room and they always return to it.  I'm figuring out Plan B as we speak.  As of now, they do not use the bathroom on their own and Boots is the cleanup lady, but soon they will be...and they are not going to be free to pee wherever they be.  (ha)

I think we have homes for all of the kittens.  I have a feeling it's going to be a struggle to actually let go of these cuties.  Everyone loves them...except Josie.  Aunt Jo is like that mean 'ole aunt who sits back and watches everything without saying anything - only giving the evil eye.  Every now and then she creeps up behind one of them and gives them a good sniff, but she is none to happy about their presence.

Last night one of them crawled over Hank the Tank II's foot and he hardly noticed.  He is un-phased by most things...a small creature seems to be one of them.  Abby, on the other hand, has to be watched.  She would eat one without a moment's hesitation.

This little guy is by far the favorite of the bunch.  We call him Stripes.  He is kind of a big bully, but we love his personality.  He is outgoing and on the move...and how can you resist those sweet baby blue eyes?

We have enjoyed many babies on our little farm over the past decade (goats, chickens, puppies, piglets) but these kittens have been, by far, the most fun.  I intend on having Boots fixed after these babies are weaned because it is the right thing to do, but goodness, the thought of never having kittens again is downright depressing.  They are so dang cute...right now.

Flash & Chip

I forgot to update you on our guinea pig farm.

After Clovis bit the dust, I promised Lane I would purchase him a new pig and get it at the 'other' pet store.  He trusted me to go alone and when I got there, I called him to describe what I saw.  What I saw were no less than 20 guinea pigs zipping around a large cage.  They were everywhere, in various sizes and colors.  So much happier and healthier than the ones we watched at the chain pet store.

He told me what one to buy (through my descriptions - there's a bunch of brown and white ones, a few white ones, a couple brown, white and orange ones, an odd-looking gray one that looks like a bunny, some solid brown ones, etc.).  I grabbed one I thought was pretty cute and not too big and toted it home.

Lane was happy with my choice (miracle) and named him Flash because of his speed.  He could zip around very quickly and acted NOTHING like poor little Clovis.  (Which makes me feel better, obviously Clovis was unhealthy and it had nothing to do with his care at our villa, right?)

Madolyn came home and fell in love with little Flash and decided she had just enough money to buy her own guinea pig.  I figured what the heck?  We have a huge cage and little Flash came from such a big community, it had to be lonely.  So off we went a week later to purchase Flash a friend.

And wouldn't you know it, Madolyn picked the one I described above as an odd-looking gray one that looks like a bunny.  Typical.  (Mom: Gosh, that dress is ugly!  Mad:  I love it!)  You get the picture.  It was settled, we were bringing home "Chip."

Anyway, before we left I had them check the gender of Chip.  I was told when I purchased Clovis that guinea pigs could have between 2-15 babies at a time.  (I'm not sure if the guy was joking with me or not.)  I had not consulted with my partner in crime at all on this purchase.  (We have an agreement about UAP's --unauthorized purchases.)  But in my defense, Madolyn was buying this one with her own money.  So, technically, it wasn't really my purchase...just go with it.

As it turns out -Chip was a boy & Flash was a girl.  Oops.

So it looks as if we could have our own little guinea pig farm this summer.  I tell all the kids' friends when they come over and play with the little pigs that everyone gets to take a baby guinea pig home when they're born. The kids think it's a great idea.  I haven't talked to any parents yet.  It's like a party favor.  It's only polite to accept the gift.

So we have big pigs outside and little pigs inside...and we could have even more little bitty pigs inside soon...

Clovis the #1 guinea pig

About a month ago, Lane saved up his money and purchased a guinea pig.  He had been asking for one for quite a while.  I/we caved and bought a black and white one from a chain pet store.  I was rather excited about the new addition as I had had fond memories of my little pig from years past.

I had a handsome fella named Floyd for a couple years when I was going to college and early in our marriage.  I loved that little guy.  He was cute and had personality.  He was big enough you could actually get him out and hold him.  He would snuggle up on me and take a nap.  He liked to whistle or 'sing' when he was happy or mad (I think).  As soon as he heard the crinkling of plastic, he thought it meant he was getting a carrot and he would whistle away.

My mom has a great picture of Floyd wearing a miniature sombrero.  It is hilarious, but we did things like that and he would let us.  Funny thing - my grandma hated rodents, but never forgot about good old Floyd.  To the day she died, every now and then, she would bring him up.  I took her to her house once - it either scarred her for life, or she actually liked him.  I like to think Floyd made a good impression on her.

Floyd was a good pig but passed away long ago.  Jay likes to remind me that I killed Floyd by feeding him a green pepper, but I've since learned their life span is about three years...I'm thinking he could have died of natural causes that just so happened to coincide with my attempt at introducing him to a new vegetable.

When we purchased Clovis, he was being held in the back room as part of a mandatory waiting period of being released for sale.  For some people, that might cause alarm.  For Lane, and his parents not wanting to suffer through a tantrum (yes, nearly 11-year-old boys still throw them), we thought little Clovis looked fine and brought him home.

Clovis was pretty calm and seemed okay for a while.  He loved to be scratched on his back down near his rear and would purr almost like a kitten.  All was well until...I read that guinea pigs need timothy hay on a daily basis and I bought a bag of it at Walmart.  (Yes, I realize it is probably not cost effective,but hey, I wasn't exactly in a position to seek out a full-sized bale.)

Again, it could have been a coincidence, but a day or two after I started dropping pieces of timothy hay in the cage, Clovis developed a sniffle, which quickly turned into a major respiratory problem. Madolyn tried hard to doctor poor Clovis, but he went downhill fast and passed on.  He had come with a 14-day warranty or guarantee, but of course, we were a few days past the window.

Stay tuned for more to our guinea pig saga...

Happy-go-lucky-dogs

Every single day as I pull up to the garage, my three dogs are jumping and barking and going to and fro.  They are so excited to see me they can hardly stand it.  Even if I leave and return home multiple times a day, they go ballistic with joy when I come home.  And Abby, now nicknamed Granny, (who can hardly get up without stretching first, and who, we believe, is partially blind and deaf) is even wobbling with delight as I arrive.  There are many days where I just laugh and shake my head thinking, don't they realize that this is the same scenario time after time?  Whether I'm gone 20 minutes or 8 hours, they act like they haven't seen me in days.  It's like the movie Groundhog Day.

Now let's switch gears to the humans.  Do you know people who have a not-so-pleasant reaction when you see them?  For instance, when you walk into some sort of office or appointment and you are 'greeted' by the most blah person on the planet, as if you're bothering them by showing up...honestly, can you at least pretend to be pleased to see me?

My dogs are happy to see me regardless of what time it is or how the weather is outside.  They don't care if I come bearing gifts or if I am empty-handed.  They love me. They would be terrific greeters at Walmart or church...other than the fact they might knock you down as they attempt to greet you.

I want to exhibit that kind of joy when I see people, don't you?  Not, "Oh crap, there is so and so," or, "Man, I'm so not in the mood to talk to him right now."  And I know that a lot of times, those are the things that are going through my mind and probably written across my face.

Yes, sometimes I want to ram my car into one of the dogs because they will not get out of the way so I can pull in the garage, and there are times when I'm trying to get out of the car and they are bouncing up and down, knocking into the car door, me, my bags...they are blocking the steps to the house or the door...oh yes, a lot of times I'm swinging something at them or shooing them with my foot to get them out of my way...but I do talk to them and at least acknowledge them.  They are so happy to see me...regardless of what I have to say or what I can do for them.

I need to be more like my happy-go-lucky-dogs and make every interaction with another human being a good one.  Life it too short to be grouchy.

Joyful Reunion

For my Facebook friends this won't be a surprise story...Sunday, January 4th, our little Boots, Madolyn's black and white kitten, disappeared.  She goes in and out frequently as long as someone is around to open the door, and we have never had a problem with her not returning.

Sunday evening we noticed we had not seen her.  We searched the house high and low, but nothing. The temperatures outside were horrific and we assumed she was in the barn and would turn up in the morning.

Monday morning came and she wasn't begging to come inside.  We were slightly worried because it was so cold and it was very unlike her.

I told Jay this fall that I did not want to get her fixed just yet because I thought it would be fun to have one batch of kittens.  He didn't really agree, but he didn't make an appointment for her either.  So O decided that maybe she was off having kitties somewhere.  She was a chubby, short thing and there had been a Tom cat hanging around in the fall.  Jay thought she was too young, but I didn't dismiss the idea altogether and so Monday evening, the kids and I searched the house extensively and did not find her.  My theory that she was off somewhere having babies was fading.  She would've come out for food and water by now.

As the week progressed, Josie, the big kitty, was so pitiful.  She was zipping around, up and down the stairs, meowing.  She would sit at the big patio door and just watch, as if looking for her little buddy. Unfortunately, she was also reverting to her pre-Boots psychosis...which involves taking all of her frustrations out on me, which I'm told is out of love, but that doesn't make the scratches and bites less painful...

Every day I would text or call home and see if Boots showed up.  I quit asking.  Of course, Lane, our sympathetic one, would have to throw out that she had been coyote bait or make some sort of death gesture.  Lane and Jay had found the white bunny carcass near the pond last weekend so the thought wasn't far-fetched...I just didn't want to hear about it.

I had announced we would have to get a new kitten because I could not live with Psycho Josie.  Jay did not care for this idea at all, but I really saw no way around it.  I wasn't running out to get a new kitty just yet, but the acquisition was imminent if Boots didn't return.  Boots was Madolyn's kitten, but I loved the little gal dearly.  She was simply the sweetest cat I have ever had.

I posted a few times over the course of last week about our MIA kitty and had lots of sympathetic ears.  On Friday, I posted about getting a new kitten if Boots didn't turn up...

Friday evening we were getting ready to go to a basketball game and I saw headlights out the front windows.  I went to the door and there were our closest neighbors...their daughter with a sweet black- and-white kitty in hand standing on our porch.  I screamed, hugged the daughter, smushed the kitty and Madolyn came running outside.  No one could believe it.

Immediately, Boots started her familiar purr and Madolyn ushered her inside.  She had been lurking around their garage and they saw her just moments before.  She was cold, a little wheezy and thin, but she was back.  Josie and Boots exchanged a few hisses but are back to being best friends.

As is not always the case, all is well in the pet department at the Wilhoit Ranch...for now.

The Mouse Game

My son has a new obsession - trapping.  And right now his focus is on something there is plenty of around this time of year - mice.  He begged and begged for some mouse traps.  I had planned on putting them in his stocking (isn't that what every child wants?), but his dad went ahead and bought two 4-packs for him.  Wonderful.

He and his buddies, "Korbin & Gavin" have really gotten into this trapping thing.  And they are learning how to skin animals too.  Again, wonderful.

The boys were over for a bit on Sunday and went outside to check traps.  (Mouse traps, that is.)  Lane had placed maybe four of them around, a couple in the shed and a couple in the hunting shack, that morning before church.  Lucky boy - he caught a mouse.

Lane came charging in the house and asked for a stapler.  "Why do you need a stapler?"  "I need to staple the mouse legs to a board while we skin it.  It's dead."  Um, o-kay.  

Later that afternoon, Lane set all 8 traps up in various buildings at our place.  What a happy little fella he was yesterday to find that 7 out of 8 traps were victorious.  The one lone wolf...we're not sure what happened.  The trap is gone.  I don't know if that means there is a mouse walking around with a trap attached to it, or there is a raccoon or squirrel with one hanging on.  (I was glad to see that neither cat was carrying around a trap - and I haven't seen the rabbit with one either.)

I almost took pictures of the mouse hide, which is attached to a board right next to my door in the garage, but I thought some may not appreciate such a glorious site.

I'm certainly no fan of mice, but I do have a little compassion for them...as long as they're not in my house or camper.

About three weeks ago, Madolyn let Boots in the back patio door.  As soon as she let her come in, she yelled "Uh-OH!"  I looked over and could see that Boots had a little treasure in her mouth.  I told Mad immediately to throw the kitty back outside.  She was standing there screaming and flailing her arms and Boots let the mouse go.  The mouse headed for the living room.  I grabbed a dust pan and broom.  (What is it about a dust pan and broom that brings about a sense of security?)  Lane ran and grabbed a cowboy boot.  I was yelling to catch that mouse, I did NOT want it in my room!

We were all scrambling around trying to trap the mouse and get it in the dust pan.  I finally got close and it just scurried on over the side of the dust pan and ran behind the couch.  I had Madolyn dig an empty hot chocolate container out of the trash can and I ditched the dust pan.  The kids tipped the couch back and I waited.  The little stinker was hiding under a throw pillow (not sure why it was back there) and we threw Boots in there as Mad lifted the pillow.  Boots did nothing.  Pitiful.

The mouse headed towards my bedroom.  I slammed the door shut, but know full well a mouse can squeeze throw the tiniest of holes.  I'm still yelling that we have to get the mouse.  It turns and heads back towards the kitchen, and my sweet lad bopped it over the head with his cowboy boot right there on the kitchen floor.  That pretty much took care of the situation...and then Madolyn started crying. She was furious that he had killed it.  I was a little taken aback, but delighted that there wasn't a mouse free in my house or bedroom.

I grabbed the motionless varmint and tossed it out from whence it came (ha - Jerry Clower reference).  Then got the mop to scrub the kitchen floor.  (I did thank Lane for killing it on the kitchen floor and not the carpet.)

Lane was pretty pleased with himself and made sure to mock his sister for crying.  I tried to explain to him that I was happy he took care of the situation, but it was a little cruel...and he replied, So is a mouse trap or poison.  Okay, you got me there.  I suppose I'm okay with that because I'm not standing there when death knocks on their door, you know.

The bird and the tree frog

My son is such a stinker.  He is constantly pulling a fast one on me (as the Quackdaddy would say). He tells some of the tallest tales I have ever heard, and he is so serious, you don't realize he is making it all up...which is why I have such a hard time believing him anymore.

And brings to my story.

Jay was working nights and we were leaving for school one morning not to long ago.  We try to be quiet (you know how that is, every little sound is magnified by 100 when you're trying to be quiet) as we get ready for our day and leave...because Jay is just getting home and crawling into bed.

I was herding everyone out the door and had to go back to my bedroom for something.  When I came out, I heard Lane yell (quietly), "There's a bird," and then laugh.  I questioned what he meant by that, he smiled, like he does when he's pulling my leg, shut the door to the garage and went back out to the car.

I go to grab my jacket off the back of the bar stool (aka coat tree) and a bird flew past my head.   He wasn't joking this time. Snap.

The kids are in the car.  Jay is in bed.  We really need to be leaving for school/work.  And whatever I do, I need to be quiet.

I start trying to shoo the bird out and realize there are no doors or windows open.  The bird is flying all over the place looking for an escape.  It keeps hitting the kitchen window.  I run over to open the patio door, grab a broom and start swinging.  It sails out the door.  Hallelujah.  Leaving the bird in the house would not have went over well with two cats in the house and a sleeping giant.

Monday, we are getting ready for school/work and I tell Lane to take a shower.  He casually says, "Okay, but I'm not taking one in my bathroom."  To which I reply, "Why not?"  "Because there is a frog on the toilet."

Yeah, whatever.

He takes his shower in my bathroom, we eat breakfast, get dressed and are gathering our things to leave...when I run in to use his bathroom and there it is, a tree frog hugging the base of the toilet.

I know sometimes it sounds like we live in a cage, you know, with wires for walls and no ceiling, but we don't really, I promise.

I guess you could say we operate under an open door policy...

The Dynamic Mouser Duo

Sunday afternoon the kids were in the living room playing a game and I heard Lane scream (he screams like a girl - it's pitiful).  I ran out there and he was standing over a very small gray thing on the floor in front of the television.  It was so small that I had to bend down to make out what it was. It was a deceased baby mouse that looked like it had been through the wringer (might I suggest repeatedly) at some point in the past few days.  It was not a fresh kill.  Ugh.

I scooped up the carcass and threw it out the back door.  We carried on as usual.  And by "usual" I mean, it is not necessarily unusual for us to have dead (or live) creatures brought into the house by the felines.

The weather has been so glorious.  It was super silly to be running the air conditioner, so Jay got the screens out and put them in the living room windows.  In the past, we have ignored the fact that our windows came with screens and opened them anyway...hence the dead (or live) varmints brought into the house by our vicious kitties.

The screens solved the problem of the kitties and the windows, however, now that we have Moxie and she is in the early stages of potty-training, leaving the sliding patio door open is a must when she's inside.  If you miss her split-second stare at the back door to go out, she pees right there.  (And I do mean she has a bladder control problem because it's mere seconds.)  I've found it's much easier to keep the door open a little.

I can only assume that the nasty, baby mouse carcass was carried in through the back door by one of the sweet kittens.

Sunday evening, Jay, Madolyn & I are sitting on our bed chatting (I know, amazing, but my 14-year-old likes to do that every now and then).  All of a sudden, as calm as could be, Madolyn looks down at the floor by our bedroom door and says, "There is a big fat mouse."  Her expression was pretty flat, she wasn't overly excited, screaming and carrying on (unlike her brother earlier).  Jay and I didn't take her serious at all.  She repeated herself and we waited for her to make a joke about it...

And then we both leaned forward and discovered there was a very fat mouse just inside our bedroom door, with a drip of blood coming out of its ear.  Jay quickly hopped off the bed, got a dirty sock and threw the wounded mouse outside.

Neither one of us could believe how Madolyn, who is terrified of the tiniest of spiders, was not freaking out over the bloodied mouse staring up at her.  She remained surprisingly calm and then started laughing at us.  (We weren't quite as calm.)  

I know what you're thinking, oh my gosh, what is wrong with you people?  I can't say as though I have a decent answer.  I guess my personal thoughts are, I'd rather pick up a bloody mouse and toss it outside than clean up a pee puddle.

Here's to hoping Moxie's potty training and patience progress quickly...so we can shut that back door to keep the wounded prey out of our house.

the Dynamic Mouser Duo on break

As for the Dynamic Duo there, they need to kill whatever they attack and keep it outside.

Bunny fun

After the 4H fair, our neighbor boys gave their 4H rabbits to our kids.  As we have been around this block before, Jay told the kids the only way the bunnies were coming home with us if we did not have to cage and take care of them.  Sounds perfect, huh?  The kids agreed and Marshmallow & Midnight came to live at our farm.  Marshmallow was completely white and Midnight was completely black.  Go figure.

The rabbits stayed near the barn and occasionally we would see them zipping around through the woods, around the barn, near the pool, darting here and there.  Then all of a sudden, Midnight went AWOL.  We can only assume he was eaten by a bear...or something.

Early on it was discovered that the rabbits were living in the loft of the barn.  Funny imagining them hopping up and down the barn stairs!  The kids found the area they would snuggle up in the insulation (sounds cozy, huh?) in the 90+ degree weather.  UGH.  And then the kitties spotted them.

Look close, see Boots by the tire, the all-white rabbit and Josie right next to it.

The daily ritual began.  Early in the morning when the kitties went outside to explore, they would meet up with their friend, the white rabbit, and play.  No joke.  They played together.  One morning we saw Moxie, Boo and Marshmallow out there circling one another.  It was hysterical. Who would've thought a Bloodhound puppy, kitten and rabbit could play together safely?!

Marshmallow, the all-white rabbit, who simply cannot hide or camouflage itself had not been seen since the Quackdaddy's surprise party and we feared it, too, had succumbed to nature's fury.  Alas, Jay texted this morning and said Marshmallow has been spotted!

Now I'm starting to wonder...did this little hiatus involve a litter of baby bunnies?  The kids tell me both rabbits were males, but I still wonder why Marshmallow was gone so long.  I'm curious to know if our backyard will soon be a bunny-play zone...or perhaps a bunny prey-zone.

Two mice have been slain by our ravenous kitties this week...this could get interesting.  Hunger Games, take 2.

#10 - yes, we are crazy

As a little background for any new readers or some who have lost track, we have had a pretty rough history with dogs and other animals around our place.  We have owned approximately nine dogs in 19 years.  At this time, #5, Abby, a black Labrador, and #9, Hank the Tank II, a chocolate Labrador, are alive and well.  It is like 100+ degrees out today, so that could change...just kidding...well, sort of.

Anyway, my BFF, who has been on another turnaround at work (working nights this time - boo) and tends to make some irrational decisions, decided that we needed - yes, needed - a puppy.  And my goodness, it has been three long years since we've had one...cannot believe that Hank II has lived this long...so he started searching and found the one he wanted.

And because he is working every single night, I (being the only woman on the planet who could be married to this man), and our daughter (Lord, who will she marry?) went and picked up the sweet little gal this past weekend.

Which reminded me, it was three years ago yesterday that Jay brought Hank the Tank II home...again, just in time for my anniversary (today).  Last year, he bought me a couple sows and a boar at the State Fair.  I know we can eat the pork, but even I have to say I prefer a cute puppy...at least today.   Ask me in a couple months when our house is even more destroyed than it already is how I feel about that decision...

But really, how can you resist that sweet thang right there?  This was after her first bath at our house and she was not really feeling it yet.  I was very worried during the first 24 hours that she was sick and might not make be okay.  Apparently, it was just the adjustment of relocating...she surely hasn't heard about our place, right?

So, friends, please welcome Moxie, our 10-week old Bloodhound puppy.  We've had her just over 48 hours and she is still alive (as of 7:30 a.m.) and is a cutie-pie.  She is very awkward right now because nothing really fits...her ears hang low, her head is tiny and her legs are long.  She has not started in with the howling...yet.

This morning I woke up about 4:30 and thought, uh-oh, I didn't get up to let her outside!  I quickly let her out, she did her business and then I put her on my bed, with a small deer antler to gnaw on because, I assumed, she would be wide awake...and I was not.

She instantly found her comfy spot next to me, nestled into my arm pit, put her head on my arm/chest and was out just like that.  I could not believe it...and, of course, I was not in my comfy spot. Phooey.  She stayed there motionless until my alarm went off.  What a sweet little thang. (At least as of 7:30 a.m. today.)

Stay tuned for more on #10, Miss Moxie.

Our newest victim, I mean pet - Boots

A few weeks ago, Madolyn sent me the picture of the cutest little black and white kitten that a friend had. She was adorable (black and white kitties are my favorite), and on impulse, I said, Okay, you can bring her home!  Usually, those decisions are regretted within about 24 hours, but we do not regret this little acquisition AT ALL...yet, at least.

Introducing Boots Wilhoit.  I call her Boo because I'm just not a fan of her name, but it is Madolyn's kitty so there you go.  This little gal will purr on demand.  I can just look at her and she will start the roar.  She is so lovable and she has been a GODSEND when it comes to the Not-So-Sweet Josie.

Would you believe that Josie has not bit me or struck out at me since Boo arrived?  No kidding.  I cannot believe the complete change in personality for the big kitty.  I had suggested getting another cat about a year ago when I could not get Josie to calm down...and Jay was opposed.  I don't usually do this, but I didn't even get his opinion when I told Madolyn to bring this little cutie pie home.

I don't know if little kitty has wounds that I cannot see or what, but I think she has become Josie's new punching bag.  Is that terrible of me?!   I don't think they hate each other too much.  They play a lot and will also leave each other alone when they're ready to relax.

I've been a little surprised that Josie has allowed Boo to take over her 'spot' on the half wall in the kitchen.  But as you can see, they are sharing the space...or something.  I had to remove those artificial flowers and the ones in another vase because little kitty cannot resist them.  Boo knocked a peace lily off the half wall yesterday while we were at church so that has been relocated as well.  Nothing is safe for the time being.

She had become infatuated with the fair fish too...and I could see that was going to become a problem, but Lane took care of that himself. Our fish has moved on to greener pastures, I mean murkier waters...

Funny thing, this little kitty was born and raised on a farm.  The very day we brought her home she was staring out the window and pawing at the door.  We realized right away she loved it outdoors, and we let her venture outside.  Immediately she appeared with a mouse in her mouth.  It took Josie months to muster up the courage to go outdoors, and that really was the result of us throwing her outside time after time and making her stay out.  This little kitty has repeatedly brought goodies to the door, and has attacked birds that have come inside through our chimney.  She's a savage!

And she fits right in...

Fairly depressed fish

The summer would not be complete without bringing home a fair fish or two or five.  This year was no different.  What child can resist the temptation of winning a fish by tossing a ping pong ball into a fish bowl?  Not mine, that is for sure.  I can't give you an accurate number of how many fish we procured this year, but post-fair-week count at our house was four.

I'm no dummy - at least not right now - and have kept fish bowl and accessories at my fingertips for the past couple of years.  So, when we saw Lane with fish baggies in tow on the second night of the fair, there were no worries.  We were ready.

As I said, we ended up with four fish, two orange and two half white/half orange.  They were all in one pretty large fish bowl with the Spongebob Pineapple House fish accessory we had on hand.  One by one, the fish count dwindled.  We now have one half white/half orange fish...who seems depressed.

Jay keeps saying of course, he's depressed.  His companions are disappearing left and right.  And when you think about it, he left the carnival circa where he lived in an aquarium full of fish - as in, probably 50+ fish. Maybe he is lonesome...

After our large, older goldfish "Sherlock" died earlier this year, Sweet Josie was left without a watering hole...she is quite delighted it has returned and resumed her habit of sipping from the fish bowl.  Maybe this fish is terrified of that sweet little kitty's evil-looking eyes peering down at him through the water.  I can only imagine what it looks like from his vantage-point.  You know how water distorts an image! Maybe he thinks this beast has eaten his roommates...

It's the weirdest fish ever, I tell you.  He stays in that pineapple and only comes out to eat.  I end up shaking the water bowl to determine if he's alive or dead because he refuses to come out.  Who knows how long this one will last.  He's certainly not tons of fun or interesting to watch.  'Tis the life of a fairly depressed fish, I suppose.

R.I.P. Sherlock

Sherlock, the goldfish, that we were given last fall by my friend, Kathy, passed away sometime Saturday, under suspicious circumstances.   Cause of death is undetermined.  No autopsy performed.  The main suspect:  The Not-So-Sweet Josie.

Sherlock was last seen floating along the bottom of his abode, belly-side up.  Still breathing, just barely. Upon further inspection, injury to his tail was noted, as evidenced by small amounts of blood.

One can only surmise that The Not-So-Sweet-Josie got a little too close to Sherlock as she was clinching her thirst as she often did, sipping from the fish bowl.

If you will recall, this same suspect tried to end the life of Sherlock last fall when she knocked his fish bowl off the half-wall and he traveled down 13 steps, landing at the bottom of the stairs, unharmed and gasping for air.  Josie, wet and frightened herself, had failed in her attempt.  Authorities are not sure what motivated the feisty feline to commit such an atrocious act, but it was noted that she is somewhat devious.

Sherlock was a beautiful goldfish with a long, swishy tail.  He had as much personality as a fish could have, becoming somewhat excited if he saw movement near his bowl.  Many times we thought Sherlock had expired, only to find that he was snoozing near the bottom of his home.

No charges are pending.  Pond-side service conducted.  Fishbowl and accessories are available.  No suspect in custody at this time.

It had been quite a while since a pet at the Wilhoit Ranch had passed.  Last count was 15 months.  We are sorry to report the streak has ended.

Quirky cat

The quirks of a cat are never few and far between, are they?  It is sooo funny how a cat can have such a personality.  Dogs just aren't near as fun.

Sweet Josie is no longer a little kitten.  She is becoming a pot-bellied cat.  We decided a month ago to scale back on her food intake.  Instead of always keep her food dish(es) full, we fill one dish in the morning and one at night.  She will politely sit near her dish if it is empty unless she's not being noticed, and at such time, she will find one morsel and continuously drop it over and over in the metal dish, which creates the tinkling sound to get my attention.  "Hey, I'm starving over here..."

Anyway, we think the 'diet' is helping the pot belly.

Josie has turned into that cat that has discovered morning wake-up calls, alarm clocks and when you are not up on her time.  She sleeps down at the foot of the bed against my legs and won't rest until I am out of bed in the morning.  I'm not one to sleep in past 6:30, but she would prefer 6:00 a.m. or earlier.  It is amazing how she can find ways to make irritating noises that cannot be ignored.  We can't even shut the bedroom door because she will jump up and hit the handle over and over and over...until you give up...she will not.

And most of the time, if Jay is at work and I'm alone in bed, she'll jump up on the bed, sit where his pillow is and start digging under the covers for my flesh.  I'm not kidding.  She will reach way under the covers to find my hand or arm and start poking at me.

Her newest fetish is the bathroom sink.  We do not have the drain stopper in, never have.  Jay doesn't like them.  So it's just an open drain.  Kitty loves dropping random objects down there.  It took us a while to figure that out.  "Where are the tweezers?"  "Someone had to take the tweezers from the bathroom!"  (Okay, I have to admit, we blame our kids for things we don't have explanation for a lot.)  We had seen Josie carrying the tweezers into the living room before, but honestly thought the kids had used them and not returned them.  Then Madolyn discovered her necklace was missing.  The last place she had it was our bathroom vanity - she had taken it off before her shower.  It was gone.  Weird.

One night we heard the kitty on the bathroom counter, shuffling stuff around, and realized what was going on.  Jay took the bathroom sink trap off and found tweezers and Mad's necklace.  This has happened a couple of times since, and presently, there is at least one hair clip, that I know of, down the drain.  Josie was watching me get ready the other morning, I walked away and heard the clanking noise...there went the clip I use when I'm straightening my hair.  I guess she just wants to be noticed.

She also loves the drip-drip-drip of water.  If I turn the handle just right, there is a slight drip and she loves grabbing a drink.  She will stare at the dripping for a while and then go for the plunge.  I think she is fascinated by things going down the drain...and while she's at it, I guess she gets real thirsty.

I had been getting after the kids about deep holes appearing in the drywall.  Spots I remembered to be small marks on the wall were growing.  You can actually see a bare nail in the hallway by Lane's door and I accused him of picking at it until the nail head was exposed.  He denied it, but I was skeptical. Later, he blamed Sweet Josie.  Yeah, I've been there, done that, pal.

Until...I saw Jo jumping up and scraping the wall by our bedroom.  Somehow or another, we have lost the door guard thingy that goes on the baseboard to protect the wall from the door handle and a small dent developed in the drywall.  It wasn't a big deal, except that Josie discovered it and began jumping up and swiping at it...repeatedly.  Hmm, so she WAS the one that was making these holes in my drywall.  Not Lane. Oops.  I don't know what it is about drywall, but Josie sure likes it.

I guess what it comes down to is this:  We have a super cute kitty we call Sweet Josie, who causes quite a ruckus and is very destructive.  She fits right in.

So long, Doll

Doll immediately after her exciting win in Michigan 2011

It's been fun, Divinity Doll, but we are happy you have found a new home with companionship and devoted horse lovers.


The Wilhoit Ranch is now a horse-free environment.  We have lots of horse-associated items, but there are no longer any live horses on the farm.  It's bittersweet.  I enjoyed having horses, but I'm not a horseman, and since those that were are not now...it's pointless.  Doll was lonely and had recently been kicked out of the warm, cozy barn (stupid pigs) so that pigs could farrow this month (poor thang).


We had made previous attempts to find Doll a good home with no avail until now.  It was divine intervention, you know.  Our friend "Karie" mentioned how well one of their retired thoroughbred horses was doing as a 'jumper' at a home near St. Louis and it clicked.  Hey, wonder if they would want Doll baby?  And they did!


Jay took her to Effingham last night and everything from the moment he pulled into the parking lot to meet the new owners was perfect.  The new owners have the EXACT same horse trailer we do, right down to the very color and brand.  And already this morning the new owner has texted Jay and told him that Doll and our friend's horse have been playing and are inseparable.  That warms my heart.  I'm so glad to know she is enjoying herself.  They plan to put a saddle on her this weekend for their first ride.  Awesome.


Maybe we'll hear about her winning some competitions soon like her companion horse.  He is doing great as a jumper.  Regardless, she was a good horse for us and we're so happy she's in a good place.  


This morning as we were leaving the house for school/work, I looked over at the pasture to mouth "Bye, Doll baby" and realized she was not there.  That could take some getting used to.

Josie, my adolescent kitty

I have decided that maybe our one-year-old, Sweet Josie, is in sync with our thirteen-year-old daughter's stage in life...mood swings, emotional bursts and such.  And here's why...

Josie wants to be near me most of the time.  She may not want to be on my lap or touching any part of my body, but she will be within an arm's length. If I am knitting on the bed, she will curl up at the end of it.  If I'm on the couch or in the chair knitting or watching television, she will sit a few feet away or on the back of the couch.

Every morning, she joins me as I shower.  And no, she doesn't get in the shower with me, but 99% of the time, as long as I have left the door to the bathroom open a little, she will come in and sit between the shower curtain and liner while I shower.  I cannot resist poking and prodding her through the liner either.  Her fat little belly makes a bump that screams out to me like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

Every night as soon as everyone has gone to bed and all of the lights are off, she jumps up on our bed and curls up near my legs or in between them...which is exactly what Meepie used to do.  If I'm cooking at the stove, she will get on one of the counter chairs and watch me.  It's at just the right level where she can sit on the chair and see over the counter.  When she hears me start the washing machine (she loves the water), she jumps up on the dryer and watches until the lid closes.

So that sounds all sweet and everything, I know, but now comes the irrational, moody, psycho adolescent part...from out of nowhere she will pounce on me, attack, bite, strike, whatever you want to call it.  I can be petting her for crying out loud, she'll start purring and suddenly strike at me like a venomous snake.  It's ridiculous.

I cannot walk around or near our bed without being attacked at the ankles.  She 'hides' under the bed (i.e. about one-third of her body is out of plain sight) and grabs at our feet repeatedly.  Going without socks is not an option.  If she is feeling ignored by the humans, she makes her presence known by knocking something off onto the floor, dragging out socks, scratching on the door frame or furniture, and has even stretched out in front of our television to block our view. 

This sweet kitty stalks or circles the area around her food dish and then drops single food pellets into her metal dish when it needs filled...making sure I notice she's hit the bottom.  She hovers around when we're snacking on something, waiting for the right moment to sneak a bite and might possibly even bat something out of our hand. 

It just dawned on me how very similar this behavior is when compared with our thirteen-year-old daughter.  It's like she wants to be around us, yet she acts like she hates us, we're stupid, we're annoying, but she needs us, you know, the typical stuff.  I suppose if she had fangs and claws, she might even strike. 

My hope is that the ratio of cat-to-human years is in my favor and that very, very soon, this too shall pass.  For now, please ignore the battle scars...

The dog did it.

And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.  (John 8:32 NLT)

When I was about five years old, give or take a year, my parents planted a wind break just to the west of our house, one row of Russian Olive trees or bushes (I think that was the name) and two rows of pine trees.  There is a picture somewhere of me standing out there (in my classy late 70's or early 80's attire) watching dad dig a hole for a tree. We watered those trees and trimmed around them and took special care of those trees because we wanted them to grow up good and strong.  They were my dad's pride and joy.

I am guessing when I was about eight, my parents decided to let me try out the lawnmower.  I had begged and begged to learn how to mow.  I had learned how to drive the three-wheeler, and surely if I could drive a three-wheeler, I could drive a four-wheeled lawnmower.  I think it was a Cub Cadet, maybe that was later, I can't remember.  I know it wasn't a Snapper.  My grandparents loved those Snappers and those things cracked me up.  They were so goofy looking.  Anyway...

I don't recall how many times I had actually mowed the yard before the little incident with the tree and the mower occurred.  Oh, I should say we had a lab at the time.  I'm not sure if that was Ozzie, our yellow lab, or if it was the one right before that, Nellie, maybe.   Oh well, it's hard to remember so many pets, you know.  Getting back to my story, I was zipping along with the big mighty mower mowing the grass around the growing, but somewhat powerless wind break, when I accidentally, of course, ran over a poor defenseless little pine tree.  Zip, zip, and it was gone.  When I say little, I mean little as in comparison to a full-size tree.  These had been growing probably at least three years so they were a couple feet tall.  I plowed that thing over, chewed it up and spit it out. 

Oh, crap I thought...I'm dead.  My dad is gonna kill me. I'll never be able to mow again.  I remember thinking I've got to come up with some story, a logical one, something he'll believe, you know, because I love to mow and he finally had trusted me to mow.  So I thought it over and mustered up the courage to tell dad the one and only explanation I could think of...The dog did it.

If you've had a Labrador, you know that a Lab can destroy just about anything...even if it seems unbelievable... well, I guess, maybe not slicing a pine tree.  Trying to convince my father that the dog had laid on the tree, and as a result, had cut, with razor-like perfection, the stem off at the base didn't work.  And of course, I crumbled like a stale cookie but, thankfully, he got over it and let me mow again...many times.

I tried this little story one other time, about 12 months ago.  I love to mow.  I find it peaceful and relaxing.  We planted a wind break several years ago and have continued to plant and replant trees thanks to the animals that graze our pasture...I mean, yard.  I got on our tractor one day last summer and was cruising right along when it happened AGAIN...somehow that little bush-hog just crept over a little too far and, whack, took down a tree.  I didn't say a word until Jay noticed and inquired...and only then did I confess, hey, don't blame me, I guess the dog did it...