Writing in the Dark of the Year: "I Stand on All Fours, My Fur ..."

 On this fourth week, the writing prompt that hit me between the eyes was this:

"I stand on all fours, my fur ..."

I couldn't actually read this piece - or any piece, for that matter - aloud this week. But here's what I wrote:

I stand on all fours, my fur rising ever so slightly from my suddenly unfamiliar body. (Is it my body that is unfamiliar, or is it everything else?)

Last Tuesday night I went to bed, stretched out as usual on the blanket on the floor behind my Friend's bed. She turned out the light, then she said, like she says every night, "Sleep time, SLEEP time, my little Earl Grey. Sleep time, my Faithful Friend. See you in the MORning!" 

But the morning never came. The dark night got blacker and blacker. The Good Rancher got up and made his breakfast and left. My Friend got up and called to me.

I didn't know where she was. 

I didn't know where I was.

I bumped into a hard edge and did not know how to get around it so I stopped. I needed water, I needed to go outside, I needed to have my Friend say, "Good MORning, my little Earl Grey!"

She came back to find me. I almost didn't hear her footsteps. I was so scared that my entire body was shaking. I could hardly breathe.

"Come on, my dog! What's going on?" I looked at where I thought her voice was coming from. She cried my name like she never had before - "GRAAAAAAYYY!" 

She pushed me with her legs and put her hand on my head. She got me to where I could feel cool air on my face. So many smells. Birds chirping. Cats meowing. Musket yapping from the porch. I was so confused that I just froze.

I put out my foot, but there was nothing there. Suddenly I felt her next to me. Her hands on my shoulders. "Step!" she screamed, "Step! Step! Step! Step!"

I didn't know what to do. She had never raised her voice at me before. Except that time when she saw me with a baby barn kitten in my mouth. Was she angry with me, like then?

I heard tapping right below me. "Step," she whispered. I could feel her breath on my face. Salt water dripping onto my nose. I leaned toward her and my foot dropped down to reach a spot just below me. "Step," she said again and that same tapping below me. I followed her breath.

And then I felt the cold bristles of grass beneath me. "Go, on, Earl Grey," she said. I inhaled the scent of previous outside visits, both mine and the other dogs'. Some stronger than others.  I took a few steps into this blackness. I had to pee, but I was too scared to lift my leg. 

She called to me and I heard her truck running. Maybe we were going for a ride? But I could not find her or the truck. Suddenly she was in front of meIbumpedintoherlegs. The Good Rancher was there and he picked me up and put me in the truck. She was already sitting right next to me.

The movement, the noise, the smells. I could hear big trucks coming toward me and I pressed myself low on the seat because I couldn't see them and I was scared they were going to run over me.

We stopped at the place where the people give me treats, and the girl came out to help my Friend get me out of the truck. They put a noose around my neck and started to pull me, but I did not know where I was going so I sat down.

And I heard my Friend's voice. "My Faithful Friend," she said. "Come with me, Earl Grey."

They got me into a small room. I tried to walk around but I kept bumpingbumping into a huge box in the middle of the room. I put my head on my Friend's lap and everything was quiet. 

But not for long. Two other people came into the room and they made my Friend put a muzzle on me. Then they poked me in my foot, and they put something cold near my heart, and I felt whooshing air near my eyes. I started to pant.

My Friend and that girl got me back into the truck. The truck started and then there was a howling sound, like the coyotes on the hills at home every night. I tried to reach for her hand, which was always there when I put my head on the console, but I fell off the seat.

The howling stopped. So did the truck. The door next to me opened. She helped me get back up onto the seat.

We got home. I got onto the floor of the truck but when she tried to get me down I couldn't move. I could only shake and pant. 

She went away and came back and there was somewhere hard to put my foot. It was covered with something soft that smelled like her jacket. "Step," she said quietly. "Step." 

And I was on the blessed ground again.

This last week has been long. Cold weather. Accidents in the living room. I can't find my food until I am standing in the bowl. I spill the water. My head hurts all the time. I sleep a lot. The dogs avoid me, but those kittens stay close to me now. 

Nothing is the same. 

Except for one thing.

A long time ago she went away for a night, and when she came back the next afternoon, she smelled of blood and bandages and medicine and sadness. We could not jump up on her, and she did not bend down to give us our milk time, milk time. Something was wrong. 

She lay on the couch and I lay on the floor next to her. When she got up she went to the small room with the loud rushing of water. I felt I needed to go look after her. So I waited for her outside the door. 

And from that day on, whenever she goes to the small room with the loud rushing of water I always lie down, blocking the door, waiting for her, protecting her from the unseen enemy. Now everything is unseen, everything is the enemy.

Still. I still know when she is in that place, and I have still been able to find the door. And I would still protect her with my whole pitiful being.

She opens the door. I stand on all fours, my fur turning into shield and breastplate and helmet, and my useless eyes glowing jade green. I stand on guard for her.

And I hear her say the words she always says as she bends to stroke my back and head:

"Grey? Are you waiting for me, Grey? Oh Grey, you ALWAYS wait for me. THANK you for waiting for me, Earl Grey. Thank you for being my Faithful Friend. Do you love me, Grey? I think you LOVE me!! From the FIRST time you saw me, you loved me, and you wanted to BE my friend. And now, you are my FAITHful Friend, Earl Grey, and now, you are MY dog."

Everything has changed, but nothing has changed. I would give my life for her. 

I hope she can see that.

Spring Has Sprung

It was the longest winter I could recall. The first gigantic snow dump occurred on October 2, 2017, the week before Thanksgiving. 

And it stayed, and stayed. 

In May, baby calves were being born into snow drifts; straw for bedding cattle was running out; Dr. Jeff the vet was on speed dial.

The Good Rancher was working virtually around the clock.

"Give it time - spring will show up. It always does; you'll see!" my far more seasoned friends assured me.

The next thing I could remember, the sun was pounding down with record-setting temperatures. Calves were lethargic. Horses were irritable. Flies were everywhere.

And then, on about this last Tuesday, it was winter again.

Snow, stabbing winds, slick roads, temperatures below zero. 

My head, which is usually more angled to the ground than the skies anyway, was now wedged between my shoulder blades. I told myself late, late last night that I simply HAD to get to sleep, that I had to get to church early on the morrow.

This morning I dragged myself from bed, said good morning to the dogs, got myself into reasonable order and climbed into Henry, my first Ford.

As I drove down the squelchy driveway, it dawned on me: they were right! My friends were right! Spring had arrived!

Driving home that afternoon, the temperature was at 3 degrees C. Vivid green was determinedly pushing a carpet through the snow. There was no wind to speak of. The sun was shining!

A mum and her baby calf sat enjoying that sun.

It did strike me as a bit peculiar that there were fresh bales in the fields in spring, but then, this whole year has been a little odd.

When I got home I went outside to see what I could see, to breathe the air, to be.

This would be the first time in well over a year that I had been outside of my own volition, with no agenda: nothing to do, no errand to run, no rush.

It was so quiet. So calm.

Nothing to prove. Nothing to lose.

So right.

The dogs came with me, each with their own thoughts. Musket, the eldest, was just thankful that he could feel the fresh grass on his back, that he could revel in the sun.

Phoebe Snow remembered the joy of discovering buried treasure, and she showed her little sister, Carly Simon - whose first spring this is! - what it is like to dig in the soft, rich soil.

Gunpowder, the one who stays closest to home and who had been informed not too long ago in no uncertain terms that he would never, never be a father, surveyed the scene morosely. Why couldn't he go inside? Perhaps a crumpet or two, with a spot off Earl Grey, would serve to lighten his heirless burden ... 

Earl Grey, however, was having none of it. He was on his own vision quest, faithful sister Phoebe his spotter. Gophers were the prize!

If a gopher sees his shadow, does that mean there will be six more weeks of winter?

Neighbour Jim's plane cleaved the sky and I looked up. 

I looked up ...

If the gopher does not see his shadow and is emboldened to move away from his safety cell, does that mean we will get a much-needed Indigenous people summer? Farmers still have crops in the field, slowly but surely losing value the longer the weather remains uncooperative.

And yet, we need the moisture desperately to get a boost for the growing cycle of next year.

What if the gopher changes his mind? Can he go back into hibernation, snug, sleepy, never knowing that he would be missing this fluky, fabulous fall-into-spring spectacular? 

Having looked up, can I?

The Boys Are Back In Town!

DISCLAIMER: This post contains scenes of nudity and sex. Parental discretion is advised. Except for my pal Riley. Even at age 9, my pal Riley is miles ahead of me in knowledge of how things work in all areas of ranch / farm life ...

Shannon Lawlor -  she has ties and tales from the neck of the woods where these stories are being told!
http://www.calgarystampede.com/blog/2016/10/28/artist-shannon-lawlor-tells-us-the-story-behind-the-2017-calgary-stampede-poster/comment-page-1/
This poster is available for sale at Cattlemunns Ranching Gift Shop.

Well, it's that time of year again - the time that the big boys gather in the bright sunlight to size each other up, tell a ton of lies, and compete for the prize.

Yessir - the boys are back.

The pictures that follow are some of the handsome lads from this neck of the woods:

It appeared like these three magnificent men were

rehearsing for a Broadway production!

It might seem like these studs have the best job on a ranch. After all, for approximately 45 weeks out of the year they don't do much more than eat and laze in the sun with their buddies, an exclusive men's club that no woman has been beating on the doors trying to enter as far as I can see.

Of course, just like the heroes of the annual Calgary Stampede, there are qualifying rounds. You can't just show up and be in the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth based on your good looks and charm alone.

That's where Dr Jeff Serfas of Forestburg Veterinary Clinic (1998) Ltd. comes in.

Intelligent, patient, astute, experienced, compassionate, and with his trademark swift smile, Dr Jeff is the Chute Boss Dave Shields Sr (check out the gentleman in the yellow shirt) of this particular rodeo. Just like Mr Shields at the Stampede, it is Dr Jeff who decrees who gets to ride and when ...

  Yes!!!

Noooooo ...


After witnessing the proceedings (Disclaimer: No animals were hurt in the taking of these pictures, or in the procedures each had to undergo - well, maybe an ego or two, but suck it up, Princess ...), all I can say is that I went away convinced that any chap who made it through the indignity of the qualifying round pretty much had earned the right to play the field ...

I was also filled with more than the usual gratitude for the best neighbours a person could hope for:

After a day or so to recover from the invasion of personal space, the big boys are let out to mingle with the ladies.

Yee-Haw!

 First comes the getting-to-know-you stage:

(For what it's worth, this little bull was my BABY! I saved him from certain death the day he was born! The pups and I spent the better part of one cold November night warming him up and comforting him until his fever broke. He was such a good boy ... To see him sniffing out potential paramours with such evident enjoyment - well, it's almost more than a mother can bear!!)

Then comes the courtship. Courtship? It's more akin to speed dating:

(Does anyone else feel that a lot of this date is wasted in skirmishing with his erstwhile best friend for the attention of the lady? why doesn't he just ask her if she'd like to dance?)

Finally things seem to be settled. He coaxes his chosen maiden into a quiet glade. The sun sifts golden droplets through the fresh greenness of the glistening leaves. In my head Frank Sinatra is crooning, "Strangers in the Night ..."

In real life, he's snarling, "I did it MYYYYYYYY way ..."

In eight seconds it's all over.

Two questions:

1. She waited ALL YEAR --- for THAT?!

2. Is this the model for all of those teeny-weeny eight-second rides at the Stampede rodeo?!! I had always wondered why they decided eight seconds was a good length of time. I think I'm beginning to clue in ...

I am left shaking my head. Will I ever understand the cycle of ranching?

The Good Rancher is shaking his head too. Will he ever understand the wingnut he has married?

I am ready to swear off trying to find the romance of this life.

But then two boys change my mind. The next generation of cowboys and vets is obviously being launched:

"This is my cowboy face ..."

Seriously, my little DVM-to-be:

That's where you wanted to check?!

I guess this one passes the test!

Maybe there is hope for the future after all!

Anyway, big boys, thanks for the memories. Rest up again until the next round ...

And let's hear it for the boys!