Animal Farm

Today I learned a thing or two about having pets.

But not just any pets - country pets.

Let me start by saying last weekend, our cat had kittens. Since then, she's been super protective of her little ones, so we have done our best to stay out of the way but still make sure she is well-fed and taken care of (after all, she has three extra mouths to feed now!). However, it's a bit hard to keep track of her, because she's not an indoor or an outdoor cat; she's both. When I can't find her in the house, she may be running around in the fields around here or stashed away in a closet somewhere unseen. Consequently, I'm a bit unaware of when she has been fed or let out to relieve herself. A couple days ago, Meg went upstairs to her bedroom and I heard a shout. What else did she find but cat poop right on her bed! I thought that sounded quite unfortunate, but I was certainly glad it wasn't me! Amanda warned us all that we need to make sure the cat is let out, and we all resumed our business.

A couple days later, I walked into my bedroom after being away from it for only an hour or two and very unexpectedly come across a large wet spot on my bed. At first look, I assumed the worst, and was quite in shock that one of the pets actually peed on my bed! But then I called Meg in, and we looked up at the ceiling to find a large crack all the way across the ceiling with a little bubble at the end, directly above the wet spot on my bed. Phew! I was genuinely relieved that it was a water leak instead of pet pee. We didn't know what to do about it, so Meg called Amanda, but Amanda seemed really perplexed at the idea of a leak. Taking a look at the spot again, I was still convinced it was a leak, but the ceiling didn't feel wet when we touched it. I grabbed the comforter and put it up to my noise. I basically threw myself back against the wall at the repulsive smell. There was no question about it: it was urine.

In attempt to clean up, I tried to stuff the huge fluffy comforter into our very small washer. That didn't work. Then I tried switching my mattress with the other twin bed in my room. Twenty minutes later, with furniture displaced all over the room and beads of sweat rolling down my face, I sat down with the satisfaction of a fresh new bed. I had to switch the comforter as well, but I found a new duvet cover for me instead of taking the one from the other bed. That bed has been claimed by our dog, Roxy, who thoroughly enjoys opening up my door and finding company from me in the middle of the night. Of course, that's only after she takes swims during the day through the bog around here, followed by jaunting through the mud and grass.

The next day, I woke up with the intent of feeding the animals straight away, so none of them would go hungry.  I put some food outside for the cat, along with some milk, but I couldn't exactly go inside and pull her away from her kittens to make her eat it. I left the food there, hoping the cat would come out at some point to feed. When I opened the door a bit later, who else was there eating the food but Roxy herself! I made her go back inside and tried very hard to keep her from going out again.

Wanting to be sure that the Freezer (the cat) was able to eat, I ended up wooing her with some of the food to her food bowl outside. However, when we got there she didn't seem too interested in eating. I left her out there for a bit, but let her back in a few moments later. When she came back in, Roxy wanted out, so I let her out, planning to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't eat Freezer's food again. Not such a good idea... I opened the door a minute later to check and make sure the food was there, only to catch Roxy red-handed, milk dripping down her face and nose stuck in the bowl of Meow Mix. I refilled them and tried to make sure Roxy didn't get back outside to eat them again.

Honestly, I don't know what happened, but Roxy got out again, and the bowl was emptied, yet again. I was angry with Roxy for taking all the kittens' food, so I made her stay outside.

All the while, I was terribly afraid the cat would find a nice comfy place in the house to go to the bathroom again... but I had no idea how to get her outside. The chickens, on the other hand, had quite the opposite problem! Amanda has barricaded the backyard so that the chickens can't get out, but every so often on a windy day, the barricade slightly disassembles, and the chickens begin a little rendezvous up the driveway onto the main road. I started hearing strange chicken sounds (a little crazier than normal), so I checked outside to see what was going. There were no chickens. I ran to the front of the house and opened up the door to find four chickens standing on the doorstep staring at me, eyes wide and heads cocked, trying to figure out where in the world they were. I really pathetically tried to chase them and shoo them back into the backyard, but they didn't seem too interested in listening. I did find, though, that they were very interested in following, and I felt like a superstar being chased by paparazzi as they clucked and crowed after me all the way into their coop. I re-barricaded their wall to the front and very contentedly went and sat back down on the couch.

Three minutes later:

Clucking and crowing at the front door.

To speed up the process a little this time, I decided to coax them with bread, which was very efficient. I spent a little more time building everything up and making sure they wouldn't be able to get through the hodge podge of yard items that have been erected as the barrier. I sat down again.

Five minutes later...

Clucking and crowing at the front door.

I could continue on with details, but it's enough to know that this happened four times, with my patience completely run out by the last time. I made sure I built a faultless wall and finally went back inside to finish some chores, knowing the chickens were happy in their coop and were not going anywhere. As I walked through the backyard into the house, I noticed how much chicken poop was on the ground everywhere, so I carefully darted around it. The last thing I needed was chicken poop on my shoes! I sat down on my bed to check some things on my computer for a few minutes. Sniff sniff... sniff sniff... something did not smell right. I sniffed around here and there trying to figure out what the smell was and where it was coming from. I checked my shoe.... good... all clear.... smelled around a little more... lifted my other shoe and OH! A nice gray and white splotch was smeared all over the bottom of my shoe, exuding the most unpleasant aroma of chicken droppings. Just my luck.

After wiping my shoe off outside and scraping the excess poop from the sole, Meg and I cleaned the rest of the house - vacuumed, mopped, dusted - and made sure everything was sparkling clean before Amanda came home the next day. We made a particular point to clean up the mess from the bathtub that we had made a few days earlier when we gave Roxy a bath (a very messy job.... because it was a much needed bath!).

Meg and I left for town and came back home a few hours later. We were greeted by Roxy, filthy, soaking wet, and absolutely covered in sand and mud. She jumped and wagged her tail and made it very clear that she was very eager to go inside. I looked at Meg and knew we both had the same though - No way. That dirty little thing was not about to go into our spic and span house! Our first idea was to hose her off and make sure all the mud came off before we let her in for the night. I went around to the back, holding Roxy by the collar so she wouldn't take off and disappear into the bog at the sight of the threatening hose, while Meg went to the side of the house to turn on the hose. I led Roxy over to a corner where she would be getting her bath, and right as I stepped over the hose, the water turned on and sprayed right up at me! I squealed, skirted, and dodged around the flailing stream of water and amazingly ended up on the other side decently dry. Meg came over laughing and somehow tamed the runaway hose, and we set to work spraying a very resistant and disgruntled dog. We finally finished rinsing all the muck and guck off of Roxy, and I let go of her collar. And she was off! Straight through the backyard, out into the field behind us, right into a bush and pile of dirt. Of. Course.

Meg and I came up with a scheme to get her back, without fear of the hose, and without her sprinting off after her bath again. It involved towels, rope, and muscles. The rope idea actually failed because there was no rope anywhere in the house (and don't even think to ask for a leash... this dog comes when you call her name!). Meg set out to turn on the hose again, and I summoned Roxy and held her collar with a tight grip. Returning with dry towels in hand, Meg grabbed the thrashing hose that I had just dodged once again and went at it. I'm pretty sure Meg and I got just as wet as Roxy in the process, but at least Roxy was going to be clean. That made our soaking wet tennis shoes not seem so bad at the moment.

This time, as all last tries are, was successful (after all... that is why they are the last, isn't it?). After toweling Roxy off and guiding her into her bed in the house while making as absolute little mess as possible, we hosed off the rest of the chicken poo on the patio and sat down to marvel at our hard work.

With as many frustrating animal situations as I experienced in just a few days' time, you'd think I'd be crazy with anger and ready to lash out at any animal I see. Not even slightly. Although it might be a bit annoying having cat pee in your bed, chickens that endlessly escape from their coop, and dirty dogs in your freshly mopped house, you kind of just look at the whole situation and laugh! Just another day in the country!

I mean, after all... you can never really get that upset though when you're chasing chickens around. :)