So, we live with a potbelly pig named Tinkerbell who spends most of her time sleeping in her human parent's (my friends) closet; my friend saw her at the feed store, I think, in a little cage, and felt sorry for her and brought her home. She was cute and squiggly back then; it's been six months, I guess, and they had to enlarge the dog door to the outside because she was having a hard time squeezing out and in, and they're out of the country for a month and they figured she might grow too big for the opening by the time they get back.There's also a boxer named Bones living here which my friend found in a field near her work. He was literally skin and bones -- they've got some pretty disturbing pictures of when they found him -- and the vet, whom my friend took him to thinking they would have to put him down, originally thought he was seven or eight years old. But the vet said it wasn't necessary to put him down, and now he's a very healthy three or four year old.
And then my extraordinary house cat, Timmy, who has made himself quite at home here. He likes this address so much more than the last place we lived, where I adopted him because his roommates picked on him and he peed on his human parent's things and they put him in an ill-devised screened-in room on the front porch in very cold weather (I can't remember now if it was last winter or the winter before that). Here, Timmy has a cat door to go in and out of, and once he gets out there, 3.5 acres of wandering room. I was a little nervous about him getting lost or wandering into the road at first, but I followed him around and watched his patterns, and I'm pretty confident his habits are healthy.
I put up a dog gate at the end of the hall so that Bones could see Timmy and so that Timmy could explore the rest of the house, which he has done the past couple of days in Bones' absence because a family friend has taken Bones to his friend's house to play with her dog. Yesterday he brought Bones and the other dog, Sam, back here to play in the fenced-in yard, which wore Bones out pretty good. He was in bed before we humans were.
There's also a rescued turtle named Chewy in an aquarium in the kitchen, but they're not warm and snuggly animals, so I don't think much about him. I would love to get a goat or two, for the milk, and their freaky cuteness. I have this idea to get two baby girls and name them after my grandmothers, Nana and Mamaw. It would be nice if there was some situation where I could rescue them instead of buying goats from a breeder, but I don't wish that there are goats out there in need of rescuing, and getting them from a breeder is kind of rescuing them (though buying from a breeder keeps that practice alive, and I'm not sure how good I feel about that) -- I guess it remains to be seen if and when I meet the breeder). S & I were talking about goats last night around the chiminea. I said, "I'm pretty sure they would be outdoor animals," to which S said, "I certainly hope so!" Not that he has any problem with a boxer and a potbelly pig at his feet in the kitchen while he's cooking, but it could get a little crazy if we had goats and chickens, etc., running around indoors!
I bought a chiminea and put it on the front porch, and last night S & I christened it with some wood from the oak trees here, a piece of cedar from the stack I bought for $4 when I bought the chiminea, and a piece of root from the big pecan tree which fell in the yard during a storm last year at the old address. It was semi-ritualistic, burning the old and the new wood, the old memories and the new ones to come. We had a chiminea on that porch which broke, but while we had it, we used it a lot, and turned the porch ceiling a sooty black color. So to avoid that, I got some galvanized aluminum pipe from the hardware store and the friend of the family who's staying in the Airstream on the property (and who took Bones on a playdate again this morning) helped me wire it up, so the smoke goes out past the roof ledge, mostly; some of it comes out of the front of the chiminea, but it only makes us smell all toasty-roasty like we've been sitting around a campfire and doesn't soot up the porch. The pecan wood burned nice and slow, and I remembered a stack of little logs I stacked there at the old address that I think I better go get for the front porch.
Ah! Life is good.
I am having a little bit of trouble getting on a schedule. I haven't touched the novel since before my out of town guest came and went, and then the move. But I'm confident the time will come. First I have to get my work schedule going. (I only worked 20 hours over the past two weeks!) Regardless, I am feeling quite comfy here, even though this living situation is temporary. The next move will only be across the property to our shipping containers house, when it is complete, which our friends say they will be focusing on once they get back in the country at the beginning of next year.
And then my extraordinary house cat, Timmy, who has made himself quite at home here. He likes this address so much more than the last place we lived, where I adopted him because his roommates picked on him and he peed on his human parent's things and they put him in an ill-devised screened-in room on the front porch in very cold weather (I can't remember now if it was last winter or the winter before that). Here, Timmy has a cat door to go in and out of, and once he gets out there, 3.5 acres of wandering room. I was a little nervous about him getting lost or wandering into the road at first, but I followed him around and watched his patterns, and I'm pretty confident his habits are healthy.
I put up a dog gate at the end of the hall so that Bones could see Timmy and so that Timmy could explore the rest of the house, which he has done the past couple of days in Bones' absence because a family friend has taken Bones to his friend's house to play with her dog. Yesterday he brought Bones and the other dog, Sam, back here to play in the fenced-in yard, which wore Bones out pretty good. He was in bed before we humans were.
There's also a rescued turtle named Chewy in an aquarium in the kitchen, but they're not warm and snuggly animals, so I don't think much about him. I would love to get a goat or two, for the milk, and their freaky cuteness. I have this idea to get two baby girls and name them after my grandmothers, Nana and Mamaw. It would be nice if there was some situation where I could rescue them instead of buying goats from a breeder, but I don't wish that there are goats out there in need of rescuing, and getting them from a breeder is kind of rescuing them (though buying from a breeder keeps that practice alive, and I'm not sure how good I feel about that) -- I guess it remains to be seen if and when I meet the breeder). S & I were talking about goats last night around the chiminea. I said, "I'm pretty sure they would be outdoor animals," to which S said, "I certainly hope so!" Not that he has any problem with a boxer and a potbelly pig at his feet in the kitchen while he's cooking, but it could get a little crazy if we had goats and chickens, etc., running around indoors!
I bought a chiminea and put it on the front porch, and last night S & I christened it with some wood from the oak trees here, a piece of cedar from the stack I bought for $4 when I bought the chiminea, and a piece of root from the big pecan tree which fell in the yard during a storm last year at the old address. It was semi-ritualistic, burning the old and the new wood, the old memories and the new ones to come. We had a chiminea on that porch which broke, but while we had it, we used it a lot, and turned the porch ceiling a sooty black color. So to avoid that, I got some galvanized aluminum pipe from the hardware store and the friend of the family who's staying in the Airstream on the property (and who took Bones on a playdate again this morning) helped me wire it up, so the smoke goes out past the roof ledge, mostly; some of it comes out of the front of the chiminea, but it only makes us smell all toasty-roasty like we've been sitting around a campfire and doesn't soot up the porch. The pecan wood burned nice and slow, and I remembered a stack of little logs I stacked there at the old address that I think I better go get for the front porch.
Ah! Life is good.
I am having a little bit of trouble getting on a schedule. I haven't touched the novel since before my out of town guest came and went, and then the move. But I'm confident the time will come. First I have to get my work schedule going. (I only worked 20 hours over the past two weeks!) Regardless, I am feeling quite comfy here, even though this living situation is temporary. The next move will only be across the property to our shipping containers house, when it is complete, which our friends say they will be focusing on once they get back in the country at the beginning of next year.
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