Yes... I missed our morning chat this past Friday.
I was AWOL.
We had out-of-town guests for a few days and along with that we had
our little Mackenzie for an overnight stay.
I got spread a little thin...and blogging was sacrificed.
But we had a lovely weekend...visiting, playing, and also partying.
(Hubbs' work Christmas party was Saturday night. It is one of
my few nights each year that I get to get all gussied up.
Would it surprise you if I told you that as I sat in the car on the way to the party,
in my dress and heels and sparkly earrings,
I realized that I had forgotten to work on my fingernails
and still had a good amount of barn dirt beneath them.
You can take the girl off the farm....but you can't take the farm off the girl!)
By Sunday morning life was almost back to normal.
The Tale of Three Legged Sam
Our farmhouse sits on top of a hill... one of the higher points on the farm.
The southeast side of the house is bordered by what I call "The Holler".
A fairly steep embankment eventually runs down into the lowest portion of the farm.
(Interestingly, this is the old stagecoach winter route from long ago... I am told.)
|Old stagecoach trail...through the center of those two tall trees.....|
It was early in the morning...the sun was just bringing a slight glow to the eastern sky.
Hubbs opened the front door and let the dogs out... potty time.
For some reason, Sam and Annie went running down into The Holler
and quite a commotion ensued.
There was barking and yipping and a cry of pain on top of that.
One call brought Annie running back to the house, obviously scared.
Two calls, three....and still no Sam.
With that Hubbs said to me..."I think we may have lost Sammie."
It sounded like a large predator might have gotten the best of our fearless hunter.
Five minutes later Sammie appeared ...collarless...limping...
a bite on his right front leg beneath the shoulder.
Hubbs examined him and could find no bony trauma, but there was lots of what we medical people call crepitation (a sort of crackly sound beneath the skin...indicative of some sort of trauma.)
And how he managed to lose his collar....we'll never know.
Later in the morning his leg began to bleed.
We called Dr. Becky and she suggested some antibiotics which we quickly began.
We'll never know what Sam had a tussle with...
and with time his leg will heal.
Perhaps this will teach him to choose his opponents a little more wisely!
After all... he is no spring chicken anymore...
no, for now he's just Three-Legged-Sam!
Last evening we washed eggs (a weekly chore.)
As you can see... Ivy has dubbed herself
"Protector of Eggs".
What is it about cats and boxes?