I finally spoke to the neighbor whose German Shepherds kept coming over to use my yard for a toilet and then proceed to try and kill my dog, Gabe. She said she'd keep them up, then told me my three chickens had been coming over there. I told her I'd find a home for the chickens, and within two days, the chickens were gone. A few days later, the dogs are running loose again a lot of the time. I chased one home yesterday.
I am really content with the home I found for the chickens, though: A young woman who grew up next door was glad to take them. She said her oldest daughter, maybe eight years old, had been wanting chickens. When she brought our cage back a week later, she said both hens now come running up to them and they can pick them up any time. So so my coronavirus hens have made a little girl very happy. I do miss my fresh eggs; believe me, there's a difference between really fresh eggs and eggs from the store.
This morning when I was practicing my left-handed writing, I reached a milestone: I noticed I was writing at about the same speed I use with my right-hand. Go, me! It shouldn't have taken me that long, but I wasn't writing enough every day to improve. Once I started writing about what I read in the Bible every day, it's like a switch turned on in my mind (or in my hand?) and everything worked properly.
I have met some challenges left-handers face, though: Spiral notebooks! What an aggravation. My left had has to try and write neatly while laying on metal spirals. I found out they make left-handed spiral notebooks and went as far as adding it to my Amazon cart; then I realized that since I use both sides of a sheet of paper in a spiral notebook because I'm cheap, I would be dealing with the metal on one side anyway. Duh.
My dog knows a lot of human words that most dogs don't. For instance, if I've been sitting down for awhile when he asks to be taken out, I will have to go pee first, because my bladder is the same age of the rest of my body. As I get out of my chair, I'll tell him I have to go to the bathroom first, and he will head down the hall to the bathroom before I am fully standing, to monitor my activity. And he has finally learned to go where I point when I see him going the wrong direction; some dogs seem to know this instinctively. but Gabe had to learn it.
I always put the shock collar on him to go on my walk now, and seldom have to use it. Even when I do use it, I use the "vibrate", not the shock, unless he is about to go somewhere he could be run over or get hurt. When that happens, I yell "no" and use the shock. I've only done that two or three times, and it isn't turned up nearly all the way. He enjoys our walks in the pasture so much more now, because he can run around in my vicinity without having to walk at my slow pace. If I see him getting too far away, I'll either call him to me saying "come" or else I'll have him sit/stay until I get closer. He minds very well with the collar on. Without it, he might obey, but he's like a two-year-old child. I'll say, "Gabe, come!" He'll turn and start to come, but then he will stop and smell something, and I'm once again hollering "come" several times. But I sure am glad the collar lets him off the leash, because I don't worry about him seeing a rabbit or a strange cat and disappearing into the woods for hours.
I have let my cat in the house all winter because my cousin told me they don't shed in winter. Sure enough, cat hair was not a problem at all. But yesterday Cliff came in the door for dinner saying, "The cat's shedding." I asked which cat, and he said Blue. "How do you know?" I asked. "I was petting him, and hair went everywhere," says my husband So, those of you who thought he'd be a house cat forever will now find out you were wrong. We are going to put the Igloo Cooler on the porch away, too... the one Cliff turned into a winter cat-bed. They both still use it on cool days and nights, but they don't need it, and it needs to be off the porch. It was a great solution for those below-zero temperatures.
The strangest thing in the previous paragraph is that Cliff admitted he was petting a cat. When we got married and bought our first twenty-acre farmette, I had another Mama Kitty living at my parents' house; I had tried to keep her in my apartment, but that cat had been raised outside and didn't like being a house cat, so my parents took her. Cliff and I bought our first country home and I claimed my cat. Cliff hated her, and all cats; he considered them creepy. He thought their purring was actually a growl. Since my cat had been a house cat, once in awhile she would sneak in when somebody was opening the door: He would hiss at her loudly and shove her out with his foot! Once he saw her killing a rat about half her size, he gained respect for her. But we have been married fifty-four years, soon fifty-five; and I don't think he ever petted a cat in his life until Blue came along. Blue has even been on his lap a couple of times. The cat's personality makes it hard not to like him.
The grandson wants better fence around this place he bought from us, and it definitely needs it. He and Cliff and the next-door neighbor are going to be putting new fence up between our place and theirs. He's willing to buy fence and do his part on his section, so they have already done a little bit of "getting started". Arick gets home from work before 3 PM, so he and Cliff can get a lot done before bedtime. It doesn't look like rain will stop them; there aren't many rain chances in the next ten days. It seems every year we start out with a rain deficit, then barely get enough rain to grow the crops all summer. Global warming, maybe.
Is that enough trivia for you? Cliff's on the exercise bike, so he won't be proof-reading it for 20 minutes or so. I always proof-read it too, but I usually miss something. Sometimes we both do.
Enjoy this spring day.
