Hello to all the good folks out there! Hope ya’ll all had a wonderful christmas and didn’t over celebrate the New Year. Me and my boy Enis, we had us a wonderful time! Seems that Enis has gone and found himself a new group of friends and he brought them nice young folks over for Christmas dinner. An odd bunch, they are. Cold as the dickens outside and they all drove up riding motorsickles. They was all wearing black leather jackets and gloves. Some of them young men had hair braided up that was longer than most women’s hair. But they was a nice bunch, real polite and fun to have around.

For Christmas dinner, Enis near ’bout bought out the local grocery store. We had us glazed hams, fried turkeys, roasted ducks and all the trimmings you could imagine! Enis even got some of them little bitty weinies in barbeque sauce to snack on while we waited for all the other goodies to finish cooking. Just as we was finishing up our wonderful dinner, them darn petards showed up again. I just don’t understand why they won’t let folks be. There we were, minding our own business, eatin’ our delicious food and having a grand ole’ time when those scrawny little nerds, that’s what Enis calls ‘em, started yelling and screaming that we was murderers and some such nonsense, throwing rolls of toilet paper all over in the yard and breaking my windows with rocks!

Well, Enis’s new friends are big healthy boys ’cause they eat meat, just like my Enis. That’s my boy in that picture. Just look how big and healthy he is! Well, they marched outside to run the petards off. When them boys got outside, the nerds got real scared and started yelling “bikers! bikers!” and tried to run off down the street. Enis and his new friends jumped on them there motorsickles and took off after those bad little people. Why, they looked like they seen a ghost or something, the way they took off runnin’. I don’t really know what a biker is, but them petards sure were scared of them!

It wasn’t long ’till I heard them motorsickles roaring back up to the house. It was the darnest sight I ever seed. There was a petard strapped to the back of each motorsickle. All them skinny little fellows looked white as a sheet. They sure do need to get some red meat in their bellies and plenty of sunshine. Well, once they was all back in the yard, Enis’s new friends made them scoundrels clean up every bit of paper and glass there was. Then they made ‘em rake the leaves up and burn the piles. After that, one big burly fellow had ‘em empty their pockets of all the money they had. That nice young man gave it all to me to pay for my broken windows. Before they let the petards go, they had my windows taped up so the cold air didn’t come inside. Why, they even washed my car! Then the bikers let ‘em go. I never seen people run away so fast.

After all the commotion had settled down, everyone came back inside for dessert. Enis explained that his friends are called bikers ’cause they ride them motorsickles and petards are scared to death of them. Seems that nasty ole Ingrid and her nasty people is always tormenting ladies in fur coats ’cause they don’t fight back. Ain’t ladylike to fight, mind you. Since those sweet ladies won’t fight back, peta just keeps picking on them. But peta don’t mess with bikers ’cause them biker people will whup up on them! They don’t start no fights but they don’t let ugly people push them around neither.

I hope Enis brings his new friends around more often. They sure was alot of fun to have around. Now, thanks to them, I don’t have to rake my yard this winter!

©SharonSoileau2009

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

There is a variety of animals that reside here on my farm. Goats, rabbits, cats, dogs and, of course, horses. They all have their own individual personalities and curious little quirks that range from hilarious to down right annoying.

Bo, the Blue Heeler, who thinks he is master of the universe, constantly picks at the horses when a vehicle is moving down the driveway. He also thinks that he is master of the food bowl and has the right to decide who eats and when. Wrong!!  That’s my job. Most of the time Bo is a happy-go-lucky fellow who is always full of energy and wants, or demands, that someone play with him. That is until the weather gets bad. When a thunderstorm moves through the area, he is the biggest baby on Earth. Getting under my feet is not safe enough. He wants to be in my lap. At 45 pounds, he is just too big to be a lap dog, whatever the reason.

Sissy is a relatively new addition to the herd of dogs here. She is a cute little brown Pitt Bull mix, very loving and easy going. She is very quiet, not as active as some of the others are and has claimed her spot on the sofa. Despite Sissy’s laid back attitude, she has one major fault. She is a pack rat. Every day there will be a pile of items in the living room, ranging from shoes, vacuum cleaner attachments to hair brushes and clothes. Sissy has learned to put her feet up on something and snatch things from off counter tops. She rarely chews anything up but I can’t seem to get her to put the items back where she took them from!

Ella, who is as big as a pony, never makes a sound. She can be seen investigating the fields from time to time, but she never gets into any trouble. Her coat does hold a lot of dirt, so anywhere she lays down, she will leave a dust pile. From time to time, she will also get on the sofa and loves laying her head on the throw pillows.  Cammie, the Springer Spaniel, is also very quiet and well mannered. Other than tormenting the goose on occasion, she is seldom seen.

Winston, a young, gangly German Shepard, is my shadow. Every where I go, he goes. He is constantly under my feet. This can be annoying at times but he means well. He loves to play in the water. Whenever a sprinkler is on, he will run back and forth trying to catch the drops of water in his mouth. Winston also demands attention from the other dogs and enjoys a good game of tug-o-war.

Another new edition to the clan is Punky Brewster. She is an adorable little black dog of unknown heritage. At some time in her young life, her back was horribly scalded by boiling water or possibly hot grease. Half of her back is bald where she was scalded and her veterinarian says the hair will never grow back. Despite this horrific incident, Punky is very loving and craves attention. The only time she ever barks is when she sees a squirrel in a tree. When Punky sleeps, she snores like a freight train. I have never had a dog that snored before but Punky can really make some noise when she is in a deep sleep.

The cats are somewhat less adventurous than the dogs but they do sometimes get themselves into predicaments. Lilo, a handsome black and white short-hair who is no longer with us, decided one day he could catch a hummingbird. I had just changed the oil in my truck and had set the bucket of used oil aside. Lilo, in his dramatic leaps to catch the swift little birds, fell into that bucket of old oil. Covered from head to toe, he headed straight to “Momma’s” room and used my bedspread to roll on in his attempt to get the smelly mess off of his lovely coat.

One of the funniest things I think I have seen the dogs and cats do is to try to catch dragonflies in the summer. I’m sure they don’t know what they will do with the bug once they catch it, but watching them leap into the air for the evasive creatures will cause a person to roll on the ground in fits of laughter.

Animals are a huge responsibility. They are like children that never grow up. They have to be cared for daily, whereas a child will eventually move out of the house. I could not imagine my life without my animals. They are my “kids” and losing one is the same as losing a member of the family. They have free run of the house, go in and out through their ‘doggy door’ as they please and are allowed to sleep on the furniture. Despite having to sweep up dirt every day, pick up ‘toys’ that are left out and vacuum animal hair constantly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

©2009SharonSoileau

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Pets come in a wide variety of sizes, shapes and colors, from unusual to exotic to extreme. My pets are the usual dogs and cats. Although there are other species who live here on the farm, they seem to consider themselves independent. The goose, who dares anyone to tread on “his” property and Roger the goat, who “owns” the barn.

Roger does not believe he is a goat. The smallest of three at birth, he was rejected by his mother. I can not stand to see a baby animal suffer in any way, so Roger was moved to the house. He spent the first six weeks of his life in my kitchen. He had dogs to play with during the day, a large dog crate to sleep in at night and plenty of warm milk to drink. Roger had no idea he was a goat, and to this day, at the age of 10, he is afraid of other goats. The barn is now his home and he will let everyone who enters know that they are on his turf.

The goose does not “belong” to anyone. As far as he is concerned, this is his territory and he merely tolerates humans, as long as they give him food. The dogs tend to torment him from time to time. When he gets tired of being picked on, he will turn tail and pick on the dogs. He’s become very adept at sneaking up on his unsuspecting target and getting a couple of good pecks in before they yelp and run.

The real pets, who are really a part of the family, and considered children, are a mixed variety of dogs and cats. There is Bo, the blue heeler, who is a gluten for punishment. It is his duty, every time a vehicle drives down the driveway, to nip one or two horses on the ankle. Most of the horses have realized that a well aimed kick with cause Bo to seek other activities. One of his favorite “games” is to carry a stick with him everywhere he goes. More often than not, he will coerce someone to play tug-a-war or fetch. He can’t seem to do without a stick in his mouth, nor can he refrain from barking at a moving vehicles’ tailpipe. His biggest daily dilemma is how to hold on to the stick and still manage to bark at those noisy tailpipes. Ella, Bo’s best buddy, is a monster of a dog, something of a yellow lab/rottweiler cross. She was dumped out at a nearby church as a puppy. Despite her size and ferocious looking face, she is quiet and well-mannered.

Cammie, a beautiful springer spaniel, came to live with us by choice. During a stop at a corner store, she just hopped in  my truck. Despite extensive searching, no owner could be found, so Cammie stayed. She is the protector of the young cats. She adores all kittens, cleans them and watches over them until they grow up. Then they are on their own. The two latest editions to our family are Winston and Bull.

Winston, along with two litter mates, was dumped on the side of a highway at the tender age of about 6 weeks. I picked them up, brought Winston home and placed the other two boys with loving families. As a pup, Winston was a black and tan ball of fur. Now he resembles a miniature German Shepard who is very devoted and stays at my feet constantly. Bull, who I often call Tonka Toy, is the most aggressive, destructive and vocal puppy I have ever seen. Brown with white halfway up his legs, he is a whopping 8 inches tall. I have no clue as to what breed he might be but he seems to believe he is a cross between a Great Dane and Brahma bull. He knows no fear. Everyday, when the larger dogs run through the fields, there is Tonka Toy, hell-bent on running with them. His short legs, with their large feet, move so fast he can barely control their motion. Sometimes it looks like his legs are going to fall right off of his stubby little body. The others eventually make a turn somewhere in the field and head back. Tonka makes a loop and manages to catch up, for a little while.

The cats are not nearly as comical as the dogs but a few of them will wrestle and play chase. All of these animals are special in their own way. No matter how bad of a day I might have, one look at these happy creatures and their daily antics will make me laugh. Pets, or animal companions, are truly good for the soul.

   Ella (left), curled up with Sun, an orphan kitten we bottle raised and Bull (right), also with Sun.

©2009SharonSoileau

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!