Registering a Complaint!

Why do I still have this Horse?!

You can see that I previously posted Libby, my Quarter horse mare for sale here: http://windyhillladventures.blogspot.com/2013/06/super-broke-been-there-done-that-for.html

Libby in the field with Sugar

I have NO idea why I still have her.  Since when is it difficult to sell and 9 year old dead broke, child safe trail horse that is a Quarter horse mare to boot!  I thought we were in Quarter Horse Country  here.   It's not that I haven't had people come out and look at her/ride her.  I have: some of them I turned away because I don't want the cowboys pulling her face off and kicking her in the ribs.  One person in particular was just the perfect match for Libby.  She was a charming older woman of very small stature that wanted a safe, small trail mount.  Libby is only 14.2 hands on a good day!  She couldn't be any quieter on the trial, if she were she would be sleeping!  We went on a short trail ride together (I, on the ever safe Sugar Bear and she on Libby) we amicably chatted about horses along the way.  Libby kept her head down and quietly walked along, just as I said she would.  

I know it's silly, but it hurts my feelings when people come out and and don't just fall in love with her if "I" think she is perfect for them!   It feels like the person is dissing my friend.  When they leave with the ever ready "We will let you know" statement, I look at miss Libby's soft, gentle eyes, and say "It's okay my girl, you were wonderful and you did a great job taking of that person.  We love you, that home just wasn't going to be right for you is all."

(My 12 year old son riding Libby at a Canter)

I have secretly promised her a home with lots of pasture and gentle horsey friends, and a child or gentle adult that will adore her as we do.  I am sure that home will come along. 

For now, I think I will pout a bit about it.  

Libby after a bath in the yard

PAST ADVENTURE post ~ continued cabinet saga

Well, as you know, the cabinets were indeed level.  However, it turns out that those “special cabinet screws and molly’s” that I mentioned in “The Broken Level” post did not move when the cabinet did.  

This meant that when daughter *C------- touched the cabinet one day that it fell down.  Dobby put it back up…but not next the other one…up one inch.

His solution to the cabinets being at different heights?

“I’ll get a dang board and put  under it and then they will be level” he states putting his hand under the cabinet that is now one inch above the other one. 

My cabinets, yes the double one on the right is an inch higher than the falling off one on the left

 I looked at him an noted that “This will not make the cabinets level, it only illustrate the fact that they are not level and someone put a board under the cabinet and I will have an unlevel cabinet with a board under it on my wall.”

He argued this point for quite some time, until I gave up and decided to be grateful that the cabinet was, once again on the wall.

This however, does bring us to the next section of the “cabinet saga.”

 Some background…the cabinets that are seen in the kitchen were here when I got the house, they are old, worn and somewhat in disrepair.  I boldly fixed them.  One in particular I fixed by placing a piece of wood at the back of it in order to stabilize the back wall of the cabinet.  I was quite proud of my silly-self at the time.  Sounds pretty intelligent doesn't it?  Yes ~ well….it’s not, because you see the cabinet that was so wondrously “fixed” also has to be hung on the wall.  A big old piece of wood on the back of the cabinet makes it pretty difficult to hang on the wall now doesn't it? 

But not for my “Wonder Dobby” ~ he hung it anyway.  We are currently waiting for that cabinet to fall as well.

cabinet coming out of the wall

Perhaps when it does we will level it with the other one? 

I must make honorable mention of the things that we did get right:  The little kitchen cabinets were hung expertly with the correct special screws, mollys, level and ledger.  I love my little cabinets. 

My little cabinets with traditional Auntie paintings placed in the center of the doors

 The one other cabinet on the wall was never taken down, so it's hanging steady.  The microwave "shelf"  is steady  as well.  I am grateful I have it, since I have very little counter space (and the counter is still crooked)  Alright ~ yes ~ I KNOW the shelf is ugly, and warped, okay?  When my house Dobby does a thing, he does it for function, forgetting that I am a girl and I like "pretty."  It works, it holds the microwave and one day I will get a pretty shelf for the microwave, for NOW I am not going to complain about the wood he chose for the shelf.  The Goth girl in me did not hesitate to note that we have several other choice pieces of wood that could have been used.  I ignored her and the Sunshine girl in me quickly noted that the microwave is NOT on the crooked counter.  All three of us left it at that:)

Never moved cabinet and my microwave shelf

 And THAT is the tale of  my kitchen cabinets  ~ to be continued for sure when we re-hang the falling down cabinet and get a new shelf:)

PAST adventure post: The broken level

PAST Adventure post :  the Un-level Level or the broken level
 

Alright, alright:  I am fully aware that these posts have gotten terribly out of order.  Thank you for the emails letting me knows that (really) the adventures happen around here on a daily basis and I don’t have an abundance of time to be playing at the computer.

I know I said I would make an effort, I know I said I would keep you updated.  I say a lot of things; I just said last week that I believe in unicorns to an older gentleman on the phone with me.  I stand by the unicorn statement.

photo credit www.fanpop.com

 So ~ in light of the out of order posts ~ Please note that THIS is a “Past Adventure Post”  Much like the “Pantry that could” post.

My kitchen has “quasi” cabinets.  They sat upon the floor for a month before the then visiting Dobby came over to hang them up for me.  I was armed with utube videos and advice from the local Ace hardware fellow.  We were going to hang the cabinets…

By “we” I mean “Dobby” while I work. 

The first attempt

I was very specific in my directions to the Dobby, “Make them Level”  I said, “Hang them with the special screws and molly’s” I said  “Follow the directions” I said

When he had hung the cabinets Dobby pranced proudly into the office after I got off of work to announce, “It is done!”

I excitedly rushed into the kitchen to see my cabinets…they were crooked, they were not even level with each other much less …just..level. 

“Did you use a ledger?”  I asked sounding quite knowledgeable thanks to diy shows.

“Yes, of-course I did” Dobby replied pointing to the tiny screw holes where the (uneven) ledger had been.

I cocked my head and thought a moment…

“Did you use a level?”  I asked again, sounding very much in the know.

“No” Responded Dobby  “I couldn't find one.”

“Couldn't find a level?  We have about three of them.”  I am getting a bit frustrated at this point.

“Well, the only one I could find was the one in the basement and it – it is broken” Dobby states crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me in his Dobby fashion.

“Broken?” I ask,  “How is it broken?”  I raise an eyebrow at him, ignoring his ever-darkening demeanor.

“The bubble only stays to one side, the bubble is broken” Dobby made this declaration with total confidence.

I am flabberghasted!  ‘The bubble is broken?’

As calmly as possible I say quietly “Where is the level with the broken bubble Dobby?”

Dobby produced said “broken” level.

Taking a deep cleansing breath I take the level from him.  I set it upon my (crooked) counter.  The bubble slants to the left.

“AH! HA!” Dobby screeches!  “You see!  It’s broken, broken I tell you!”

Something in snapped, I am ashamed to say that I raised my voice quite a bit and ranted

“OF – COURSE it the damn bubble went in one fricken direction Dobby!  It’s a damn crooked counter!! That is how these level things work!!!!  This house is 200 years old, the counter has been vandalized of course it’s crooked!!”

picture credit : www.signpost-online.co.uk 

I slid the level roughly to a level portion of the counter and – miracle of joy! The bubble slides to the middle…indicating that at least one portion of the counter is level. 

In a huff I storm out of the room muttering things about levels and bubbles and ledgers.  Dobby wisely stayed in the kitchen with his “broken” level and the crooked cabinets.

After some time and a lot of praying I realized that the poor man really had tried.  I didn’t specifically instruct him to use a level nor did I explain how a level works.  In my defense:  the goth/pessimistic side of me fiercely reminded me at this point that every man on the planet Earth probably knows how a level works.  I ignored that part of me and went in to talk to the now pouting Dobby.

“The Cabinets have to be fixed” I state.

The Cabinets were fixed and level.  Lovely.

But ~ this is WindyHill and there is more to the story.

Until next time…..

A Dobby Moment #1

Dobby Moments are brought to you as a courtesy of the Forever Kittens Cattery.

Sometimes they are funny, sometimes bitter sweet, and sometimes baffling...but always entertaining!

This will be Dobby Moment # 1

A Dobby Moment

 I am sitting at my computer desk, working away and in comes Dobby clutching a slender vase with weeds stuffed into it. 

I raise a brow questioningly and I am blessed with a rare Dobby smile.  After finishing my work, I put myself on break and peer at the still grinning Dobby. 

“Look!”  He exclaims with obvious pride.  “I picked you … um, wild roses” and with that he plunks the vase ever so gently down upon my computer desk above my monitors on the shelf. 

I look at the pretty weeds in the crystal vase and say “They are lovely Dobby, thank you so much for thinking of me.  That was very sweet… what makes you say they are wild roses?” 

“The thorns of-course” He responds with a quick grin.

I hug him and think to myself that I’m glad he sees these thistle weeds as “wild roses” and maybe they are natures wild rose.  Why not?

Dobbies "Wild Roses"

Enter my son….

“Mom, why do have thistles in a vase on your desk?  You Do know they are weeds right?”

“No they aren’t they are wild roses.”  I quip with a delighted smile

“Mom?”  B____ gives me worried look.

“Okay fine, yes, I know they are thistles, but they are rather pretty, and Dobby picked them for me and he dubbed them as wild roses…so they are now the wild roses of WindyHill…okay?”

B then proceeds to laugh his head off and of course break the news to poor Dobby that my desk is now graced with thistles, a weed that rabbits love.

Dobby took this exceptionally well. 

Meanwhile, I am a bit sad that the “wild rose” colored glasses were removed from our Dobbies eyes in regards to the thistle.  But none the less after all was said and done, even “B” appreciated the fact that the intention was good, and that indeed…perhaps under our rain cloud, the wild roses of WindyHill do exist.

Dobbies "Wild Roses"

   As a side note ** yes, I have already gotten several emails stating, “ A rose by any other name is still a rose”  …thus a weed by any other name is still a weed. 

I don’t care, hand me the wild rose colored glasses and my coffee ~ I have some calls to takeJ

The Story of the House Dobby...

Alright, I'm going to tell you the story of the house Dobby...hopefully I get it right....I used to call him the "kitchen fairy" because when I went to bed at night I would wake up to a clean kitchen.  I know, everyone wants one.  Get your own!

Dobby ~ a close relative to our house Dobby...the rooms look quite similar as well. 

Well, it turns out that the house Dobby has many more duties than just kitchen work.  He feeds horses, hauls things to the back or front yard depending on which direction you point him.  He feeds dogs, does laundry, finds obscure movies to watch when there is nothing on, and it always turns out to be a good movie.  He plays the dreaded never ending Monopoly with my son for hours without quitting.  (All Hail the house Dobby!)  He cleans stalls, he will run errands with me, he moves heavy objects, chops weeds, mows the lawn, splits wood, starts the fire, builds the burn pit, assembles things that need to be assembled,  and will pick up dog poo or barf on the floor with out complaint and, pretty much whatever is needed.  This is helpful to all in the house! So his name was upgraded to house Dobby.  The house Dobby basically lived at Weedy Flats in exchange for room, board and the occasional cigarette.   My understanding of the situation is that he can never escape...even if he is given clothing!  Though he can take an extended Holiday from time to time.  At present he is on Sabbatical   He slept on lowest level in the only room that the cats did not already own.  From time to time he would allow the occasional cat to enter his cave.  The rest of us dared not enter lest we disgruntle him and be forced to do our own dishes, laundry or take out our own trash.

Here is his story the way he sees it:

Dobby knew the truth of the situation.  He chose the dungeon for his living quarters because he had the entire bottom floor as his own.  All the others in the Kingdom of WeedyFlats had to share the other floors with each other.  Dobby never had to share.  The only living creatures allowed in his dark lair were the Kingdom cats.  (Who incidentally also believe the are the rulers of the Kingdom)

Now, Dobby living in the dungeon knew that he was in the Dungeon with the most precious beings in the Kingdom, the cats.  They toiled relentlessly catching mice, bathing themselves and loving their kittens.  The cats are mysterious, secretive creatures that produced lovely kittens for other Kingdoms to enjoy.  This only happened once in awhile in the Kingdom of WeedyFlats, and the house Dobby was always there...watching and sharing his space with cats, guarding them.  The kittens you see, they brought money to the Kingdom of WeedyFlats, and without the kittens there would BE no WeedyFlats.  So Dobby, knew the truth, he knew that as the guardian of the precious Highlander and Napoleon cats and Kittens he himself was the most important person in the Kingdom of WeedyFlats.

Forever Kittens Cattery Highlander Kitten

Forever Kittens Cattery Napoleon Kittens

Sure, he was seen doing regular household chores about the Kingdom, but the reason was not in-fact servitude, but because he knew that no one else would do it correctly.   He also knew that if he didn't act the servant that the others in the castle would suspect the truth of the matter and try of overthrow his Kingship!

Dobbies hidden crown

That is Dobbies story and I'm pretty sure he is sticking to it!

PAST ADVENTURE POST : The Pantry that could..

As is evidenced by the photos of my kitchen in earlier blogs, it's plain to see that I have very few cabinets.  Where do I put my kitchen things you ask?  Why, in totes of course!

Our food totes

The Totes are nice, I like totes...I would really, really prefer cabinets.   Well, barring the cabinet fairy floating down to earth and magically putting some up for me, that doesn't appear to be imminent, so I decided it was time for me to figure out how to fix the cabinets I do have, and the pantry as well.

The kitchen cabinet that is sitting upon my kitchen floor waiting to be magically hung was easy to fix with the
"JSchoot"  It isn't hung yet of course, but it's ready to be hung when I can drag, lure,   beg someone to do it for me.

Next the Pantry, with *B____ 's expert guidance we got it done.  I was super proud of myself for thinking of reinforcing it with wood in the back.    We did not have any huge mishaps either: sure, we dropped nails and screws every few moments, and yeah, the screws went through the other side several times... but so what!  I have a pantry, I'm proud of it.

Our repaired "pantry" it came with the house

After we had finished fixing the pantry and the cabinets, we rushed into the living room to unpack the mystery boxes marked "kitchen"  it was like Christmas, complete with hot chocolate and *B_______ humming random tunes.  We were so excited to see all of my fathers treasures carefully packed away and stored for us all of these years.  We placed each item with reverence and a smile  in a spot that it would call home.  Today, I will unpack our boxes from the farm house that will unfold more old memories for us.

Lastly, we moved the refrigerator to it's home and the large pantry to it's home.  I plugged the refrigerator in...it works! JOY!

working refrigerator!

As a final touch, we put my Dad's comfy lazy boy chair in the spot that has been waiting for it.  I'm not certain it will stay there, as *B_______  wants it in the sitting/reading room, and maybe it should be there...

Dad's Lazy boy

What makes me even more proud of all these adventures, is that as *B____ and I go through all of these experiences we come a step closer to this house really becoming a home.  We are building memories together and they will last a life time, and we are creating a legacy for generations to come.  I like that feeling.

Maybe I can hang those cabinets up myself...with a little help from *B____,  the carpenters son!

Queen Elsa Update ~ A Trip to see a King!

Queen Elsa Update ~ A trip to see a King

Greetings, all beloved adorers of ..me…Queen Elsa.  I simply must tell you of the trip I made to see the King of Highlander Haven.  He is known along the cat vine as the King with the big paws and big..well (ahem) you get the idea.

 Being the lady cat that I am I was at first very coy and reticent when I arrived.   However, he proved to be quite charming and kind, and before you knew it I was behaving as all the women do around men of such power….like a fool!  I rolled all over the ground and I purred and simpered and meowed and had quite a lovely time.  OH! And the food in this Kingdom was scrumptious, oh for joy.  I gained at least 3 pounds while I was there.  I came home, fat and sleek and shiny eyed. 

Forever Kittens Cattery Elsa

  

Humom was sure I was pregnant, she felt my tummy and swore that I she felt kittens.  She even made the announcement.   What humom didn’t know is that though I did enjoy my stay in the Kingdom of Highlander Heaven with King Yoshi, I had other plans of birthing kittens.  My greatest desire was to wait for my mail order Husband, King Impulse, he has the most stunning yellow eyes, and the deepest black fur all thick and soft and shiny.  After speaking at length with Yoshi, I found that he too, had desires beyond an arranged meeting.  He was in love with another as well.  Though Kings especially are known for having more than one wife, Yoshi was special, for he only wanted the wives that he chose himself, not those imposed upon him with such a visit.  So a plan was hatched.  We would enjoy each other’s company and play the great lovers in front of his humans and his slaves.  But secretly, I was passing endearing love notes to his true love’s there in the castle.  He signed them each lovingly with his giant  poly-toed paw. 

Obviously, I can not put the Kings real signature here ~ that would be forgery! 

Naturally, the object(s) of his affections were quite impressed with his loyalty and his way with words.  The cat vine has it that they are now living quite happily ever after.

Meanwhile at home, humom fussed over me, fed me extra and went on and on about big pawed kittens.  I would beam up at her innocently and purr for her (she seems to like that)

As my impending due date grew closer, humom began to suspect something was wrong.  Writing letters to others stating “Elsa should be bigger this far along in her pregnancy, and I don’t think I feel any kittens..but I would have sworn I did before.” 

Well, I couldn't hold my great love for Impulse in any longer, he had arrived 3 weeks earlier and sung his praises everywhere through out the house…loudly so that he would know of my great love for him.

At first, being a man of mystery he was silent and only stole quick glances in my direction whilst I serenaded him.  I hit all the high notes as I had practiced and I would throw myself at his feet and roll around on the floor to show him how athletic I am and what a good mother to his children I would be.  I will admit, Impulse the dark was a challenge for me, being only my second husband after all.  However, he did come around (I was never worried) Soon enough he was singing back to me, and following me around the house.  He became protective of me and possessive, yelling at poor tomato loving Mooshi should he come to close to our activities. 

Shaved Mooshi being Mellow Dramatic ~ don't know where he gets that from:)

 Needless to say, I gave birth to 5 amazing Highlander babies on July 17^th 2013.  As per the norm they will be available when they are old enough and they have found approved homes.  Two of them are already reserved.  Miss Chipmunk has a home already (when she is old enough) and so does Impela…(who will be re-named as soon as humom comes up with something better ~ sheesh) 

Highlander Kittens born to Elsa July 17, 2013

I am now happily raising my gorgeous children and looking forward to a long life with Impulse the dark. 

Yours as ever,

Happily ~ Queen Elsa e

How I got my DOBBY

How I got my Dobby

Dobby

Well, while I was standing in my kitchen feeling quite sorry for myself, looking at my mismatched cabinets clinging desperately to my wall, my bent faucet and my big, dumb, wet dog…. it washes over me, the sadness of not seeing my horses in the pasture when I got home, the fear that something bad had happened to all of them, the pressure of doing it all on my own, the fact that I still didn't even have a real job!  I allowed myself to have a “moment” I stood in my kitchen and had a nice, old fashioned cry over all that is unjust in my life and in the world (I tend to be a bit mellow dramatic when I have a moment) 

It occurred to me in that moment of self pity and mellow drama of ‘oh how difficult it is to be me’ that I do not have to live this way….  *Now, this would have been a fine time to start thinking positively about all that I had accomplished, and about how far I had come and about the fact that all is well and the horses are safe and we have the supplies for Gypsies eye, and we had the car to drive to get the horses, and the house is warm despite the ice-storm…well you get the idea *

 Here is what really happened….

I don’t have to live this way.  I don’t!  I can get a Dobby.  I know one.  He is my friend.  He will come here and save me from the evil spirit light, and shovel my porch, and maybe even hold a horse once in awhile.

I look furtively at the clock again…. it’s late…but I bet I can call.  I tell myself to only let it ring 2 times in case he is asleep.   I swallow my tears and call him… He answered on the first ring.

“Hello” he says in that quiet, secretive way of his ~ always managing to sound as if every call is a top-secret interaction.

I clear my throat and give him the brief version of my little bit of insanity, ending with “Will you come live with me?”

We struck a deal and I was off to get the Dobby.

He has been here ever since, and yes, he shovels the porch, lifts the bales, mows the lawn, chops the weeds, moves the heavy things and does all the general Dobby things that need to be done around here.  

Dobby mowing in the rain..remember he is allergic to rainwater!

Most importantly he prays with us.  

The REST of the HORSE Story

THE REST OF THE HORSE STORY!

Upon finally arriving home, I inspect the horses under the big security light and find that Gypsy has an injury.  Her eye, her poor eye.  Gypsy has always had a tiny spot in her left eye, nothing to even note really.  But now, now Gyspies eye is closed tight and slightly swollen and weeping.  I just want to cry for her.  But no time for pity, I must take care of her eye.  Before doing so, I closely look at the other two horses to ascertain how they faired in their jaunt through the country.   Polo and Libby are quite fine, and asking if they can please go eat the pile of waiting hay.  I release them to the hay and get the supplies needed for Gypsies eye.

Gypsie

After spending time doctoring Gypsies eye and hoping that she will see again I say another prayer of thanks that they all survived and that the spirit light has not followed me home. 

I blanket all three horses whom are steadfastly refusing to go into the barn, and take note of my surroundings.

If the horses got out there is a reason they got out.   It had not escaped my notice that when I put Polo and Libby into the pasture the gate was wide open ~ the electric wires crack - cracking on the ground.   Now, why in the world would this be open?  Not torn down, not run through, but open as if I had opened it and just left it that way.  But really, why in the world would I do that?  I thought back in my mind the days before I had left WindyHill to visit Weedy Flats….it slowly dawned on me.  The training horses…the training horses has been in this pasture…when they went home the gate was left wide open, thus stopping the electrical loop and making it easy for my horses to simply walk out of the pasture and traverse the country side like Bedouin followers! 

Standing there in the sleet on the frozen ground with a frozen lead rope and eye ointment in my gloved hands, I got angry.  How could ANY horse person just leave a gate wide open like that?  We all know that if you find it closed to close it back up?  Doesn’t everyone know that electric fence needs to be connected to itself in order to be…electric?!  It’s indecent!  It’s rude!  Gyspy has a hurt eye because of someone else’s carelessness and thoughtlessness! 

I forced myself not to have a breakdown, not yet…there was a Mastiff standing on my cold foot with his giant paw looking up at me as if to say “Inside now mom?”

Doom the Mastiff

With another big sigh, I let myself, and the dog in the house.  I rallied forth, telling myself that at least I didn't have to fix the fence, the horses we now home safe and sound and they hadn't gone too far and that it the fence was just forgotten.  It was not done on purpose.  It was an accident I tell myself: no one would do that intentionally…at least, not this person.  I trust this person more than that.  Nope, it was just a mistake and that is all there is to it.  These things ran through my mind as I dried off myself, my dog and put my things away. 

I glanced at the clock, it was close to midnight, I was frightened of being alone in the house with the dogs and the potential threat of a visiting spirit light.  I was tired of being here with no help ~ no one to double check the fences when people leave, no one to help me hunt for horses in the night.  No one to move the heavy bales of hay or break the waters, or check the water heaters, or shovel the porch, or hold frightened horses when I doctor an eye, or …protect me from spirit lights….okay, I admit it ~ despite my little pep talk I was frightened, and lonely and feeling quite sorry for myself in that moment standing in my kitchen with wet hair and a big dang dog once again on my foot.

THIS is how the Dobby came to be….

To be continued……

HORSES FOUND!!

HORSES FOUND ~ the continued Saga….

Okay, so I have Libby in tow, big mastiff following along like a good boy, and when I reach the car it occurs to me….. I have to lead this horse home out the window…not a big deal, Libby and I have done that before.  However, it is the Driver side back door that is frozen into the stay open for life mode.  This means that Libby will be smacked in the side with said door the entire trip home.  BIG SIGH….

Of course she will, naturally, because nothing can be easy at midnight in a sleet storm.  I get the dog in the car, I get the now frozen lead rope out the window (imagine those invisible dogs at the fair )  and Libby…Okay, we are now good to go.  The other two horses follow their fearless leader quite placidly…blinking and ducking their heads against the sleet.   Again, I feel a pang of guilt. 

I start the car and we drive very slowly out of the neighbors driveway, so far so good.  The door seems to be quiet.  At the end of the neighbors driveway…thump, thump the door hits Libby in the soft flank, she pauses and raises her head.  The other two pause and prick their ears squinting forward towards their leader.  I praise Libby and start rolling again, very slowly.  Libby snorts her disdain and we roll on.  Thump, thump , thump goes the door against her, her ears go back but she continues steadfastly onward.

Ahead, in the distance…. I see a single light bobbing along the road.  As if someone is jogging with a flashlight.  “Oh, now the neighbor comes to help”  I think to myself in a grumpy manner.  I quickly chastised myself for being ungrateful, “At least he came.”  

PHOTO CREDIT:  http://strangesounds.org/2013/06/mysterious-glowing-lights-the-paulding-light-or-the-dog-meadow-light-in-upper-michigan.html

Libby the ever-calm-mannered, stops suddenly and snorts.  The Mastiff in back is growling low in his throat.  I am suddenly stricken with panic….”Oh my gosh!  The door doesn't close!  What if the dog jumps out and attacks the helpful neighbor!”  I am suddenly wishing he hadn’t come to help.  Then…the light ahead begins behaving erratically, bobbing very high and very low and then going side to side.  “Is my neighbor drunk?”  As I watch I realize two things…this “flashlight” I am seeing does not cast a beam like my headlights do.  I should see the sleet falling infront of it, like I would with any light.  Secondly, a man carrying a flash light does not go that high and that low in that manner.  (Even drunken)  The other two horses have taken off and are slipping and sliding and running away and poor ol’ Libby is prancing next to my now parked car and looking about frantically, eyes wide with fear and nostrils flared.  But still, she holds her post, she does not leave my side, and does not pull on the rope.  Meanwhile Mastiff has all his hair standing on end and has his big head right next to mine, tail stiff behind him, legs stiff and that low menacing growl.  I get a sudden, bone chilling, fill my eyes with tears, deep seated fear feeling just wash through my body as I watch the “not flashlight” come ever closer to us.  I hear the other horses crashing threw the frozen fields, sometimes calling to Libby who does not respond other than a very loud snort, blowing clouds of breath from her nose like a wild dragon. 

“Alright” I tell myself, if this is the way I am meant to leave this earth then so be it.  “I shall be taken from this dark, cold, lonely stretch of road in an ice-storm with no one to watch my dogs and horses by a darn spirit light!”   As the final thought went through my mind, it occurred to me that I just need to pray.  Just pray.  Pray I did, calmly and with sincere meaning.  I prayed that God would be with myself and my animals on this lonely dark road and that whatever that was getting ever closer levitating in it’s maniacal way would just feel the Presence of the Lord Jesus in our midst and be on about it’s business. 

Though I did still have the chills rippling through me I knew I was fine….the other two horses found their way back to the car and flung their heads in agitation, frozen manes slapping them on the neck with a loud crack, crack as they did so.   The spirit light, as I had come to know it took a sudden quick turn to the left into the field on my right (I couldn’t help but note this) and winked out.   

Ah, I sighed, “See what a little Prayer can do?” I asked the dog and horses.  The dog settled back down on his haunches, big mastiff head still upfront with me.  I patted him kindly, and praised Libby for her bravery and on we rolled.  Yes, I did get a bit of that prickly sensation as we passed the spot in the field that the light had disappeared, but I paid attention the animals and though they were more alert now, they did not start at the spot or run away again.  

We did make it home in one piece after all.   In the telling of the story I remember this as if it happened yesterday with such clarity that I again felt the chills and the fear and tears sprung to my eyes.  I also remembered my Prayer and how it comforted me, and the animals as well.

TO Be CONTINUED….. (oh yes there is more) 

photo credit:www.fanpop.com

MISSING HORSES!

MISSING HORSES

I guess it was probably in January; it’s all hazy now.  I was quite traumatized by the ice storm of 2013.  Let me start at the beginning and tell you how I came to such trauma.

It was early in the morning when a client came to pick up her horse from training, I was in a hurry to get my son to school and get to work.  I cheerfully waved at my client and her horses as I scurried away.  I finished work at a very late hour; it was quite dark outside.  I noted that the horses were happily eating in the big pasture as made my way down the drive on my way to weedy flats.

I stayed the weekend at Weedy Flats getting some packing and cleaning done there.  I arrived back at Windy Hill Sunday night, in the dark, during an ice storm.  No surprise there.  What was surprising is that when I pulled into the drive I did not see any horses in the big pasture. 

No horses photo credit http://www.flickr.com/photos/dbnunley/with/6939424308/

 I made my way slowly up the drive, peering into the sleet that was hitting my windshield with glee.  Hmm no horses… perhaps they are all in the corner covered in the darkness and sleet ~ which is getting heavier.

After slipping and falling on my porch not once, but twice, I managed to get the key in the door, let the dogs in and turn off the alarm system.  I put on my snowsuit, hat, gloves and scarf and went to look for the horses with spot light in hand.  I took my trusty mastiff as well.  I searched the property in vain, hoping against hope I would see the horses.  I didn't....

I called the neighbors to see if they had gotten any calls.  He tells me they hadn't gotten any phone calls about missing horses, but mine are there at his place.  (whew) 

He proceeds to tell me that he “tried to catch them” but he wasn't able to.  This man is a professional trainer and he was trying to “catch” the three most in your pocket horses I have ever had..?  

Neighbor:  So, I just left them where they were, you can go on over and turn on the lights if you want and find them.

sleet

Me: Okay great, thank you so much for your help.

It is now around 10:30 at night, pitch black and the hail is producing a steady tick, tick, tick sound on my windows and doors.  I gather the mastiff, forget the spot light and go to my car.  I open the rear driver side door to let the mastiff in the back seat and when I close the door, it won’t close.  What?  Why won’t the door close?  The darn latch is stuck!  NO amount of poking, prodding, praying, whining or pleading will get the latch un-stuck.  So, fine, the door doesn't shut.  Whatever, I tell the dog to stay put.   Dog stays.  I get half-way down the road to on the way to the neighbors house when I realized that I had forgotten the spotlight.  I console myself with the fact that he said I could turn on his lights to find the horses in the darkness.  I drove very slowly due to the door issues and the fact that I was basically sliding on ice the entire way there.

frozen light switch!

I get to the neighbors, find the outside light he told me about, only to discover that the switch is ice-covered and frozen in the “off” position.  I am afraid to force it as I do not want to break the neighbors lightswitch.  I can see NOTHING.  Even with my car headlights shining forth highlighting the hail that is pelting me from the sky.  I take note of what the horses located there are doing.  Half of them are eyeing me curiously from their shelters.  The other half are looking in another direction.  AHHA!  My horses must be that way.  I shuffle hesitantly further into the darkness, trusty mastiff by my side, halter and leadrope clutched firmly in a gloved hand.   I briefly wonder if the neighbor has dogs…

Shivering against the cold despite my snowsuit getup, I call out “Liiibbby”  and I am rewarded with an answering whinny!  Oh!  My wonderful Libby, always so faithful.  I turn towards the sound and begin walking that way with my hand resting on the mastiff who seems to be leading the way. 
”Lib ~ you sill there?”  I ask into the darkness…

The reply is a soft nicker and the sound of  shuffling feet.   Soon enough I see the dark outlines of three shapes.  There they are!  Libby steps forward to greet me, practically putting the halter on herself when I show it to her.  The freezing rain has already covering the halter and leadrope in a thin sheet of ice, and I felt very bad placing frozen halter over her head.  She didn't seem to mind ~ this is the same horse that normally stresses over her ears being touched!

Dark and icy!

 I gazed at the environment the horses had chosen to place themselves in.  They were in a little “cubby” behind and between my neighbors very lovely barn.  It was something close to “snug” in that location.  No wind, so shelter from the hail and sleet.  For a brief moment I considered letting them stay right there…maybe they were better off? Safer?  No wind and all.  I decided against it.

Continued next time. 

Super Broke, been there, done that! for sale in Tippecanoe, Indiana, United States of America :: HorseClicks

Super Broke, been there, done that! for sale in Tippecanoe, Indiana, United States of America :: HorseClicks

The blue Link above will take you to an add ~ read the blog post first ~ :)

This is an add for my most wonderful mare Libby ~ I even figured out how to post a video! That alone is totally worth the look:)

A little "extra" about Libby~ Libby was obtained so that I would have a safe, dead broke trail horse.   I do not like the trails.  I am an arena girl myself.  Take me to a show and put me in an arena and I am happy.   Libby is a perfect trail horse.

When all the horses escaped in the middle of an ice storm at 11:00 p.m. on a cold, very dark  and windy night because someone had left the gate wide open...it was Libby who answered my calls.  It was Libby that I led with a lead rope through my car window while she was pelted with ice and sleet driving 0 (that is ZERO) miles and hour for a mile back home.  All the other horses followed Libby.  The rear car door was frozen open and kept hitting her in the flank the entire way.  Libby walked calmly and slowly with her head down, stopping from time to time to ensure that her buddies were keeping up with her.

When we have a frightened or unbalanced rider come to visit, we use Libby.

Libby riding in the pasture halter and leadroope

If we haven't ridden 3 weeks, we pull Libby out of the pasture and ride her.  She is always the same, rain or shine, snow or sleet (that is verified) in pasture or out of pasture.

When we want to go bareback with a halter and leadrope, we choose Libby, she neckreins like a dream.  When I want to show a child how to pick a horses hooves, Libby is our Guinea Pig.

When the we wanted to offer "free pony rides" at the local rodeo show to the wide-eyed younger spectators, we used Libby.  Even some of the older spectators joined in on the fun:)

Libby has been decorated in fancy pink ribbons, glitter, had her hooves painted metallic gold (and silver), had hearts and crosses painted on her rump, and stood quietly for hours while all of this has been done.  She has fulfilled many a young girls dream to brush out the long, flowing tail of the mighty steed.  She stands with her head down, her eyes soft and her feet very still while children lavish attention upon her.

Libby has  been barked at by crazy neighbor dogs and harassed by the lead mare, and led around like a giant dog ~ to the point that the neighbors sometimes came out on the porch to wave as we went by walking our horse on a lead rope!

Libby Front

She is first to greet us in the pasture and often has a welcoming nicker of hello upon sighting the car coming up the driveway on the way home from a long outing.

So ~ you surely are asking yourself...why? Why are you selling Libby?  I am selling Libby because she is the most marketable of all my horses...with the one exception of Sugar... B's horse, whom we will never sell.  Sugar  is well into her 20's and will be staying with us until the end.  My other horses are a bit..."quirky" and hard for others to connect with.  Libby will get on well with anyone who is kind and gentle with her.

Libby Rear

Still ~ why do I need a marketable horse anyway right?  Well, the truth is, this farm is much smaller than the farm I came from.  We have too many horses here. We have 5 horses on 5 acres.  That is not enough space.  It's not fair to the horses.  They will end up in one giant dry lot if something does not change.  My other horses do not work well with others, Libby does.

Now, to be fair, I priced Libby at $2500 because she is worth every single penny of it.  In fact, I paid almost the same for miss Sugar when we got her and she is worth her weight in gold ~ even if my husband at the time almost had a heart attack.  Though now he will admit the soundness of my decision.  Sugar has taken care of our little boy since he was only 2 years old.  I think that Libby can do the same for another child out there.

Libby Right Side

Libby Left Side

I'll keep you posted on how it goes

UPDATE!  I have posted these photos of Libby because I have had several requests for photos of her from front/back and both sides.  Evidently the video is not as great as I thought.

ALSO ~ yes, I am aware of the saddle sore spots on her back, she came like that.  We did NOT do that to this horse.

Little Known Facts about the Uncommon House Dobby

Little Known Facts About the uncommon House Dobby

First off all it is important to note that not all house Dobbys are created equal.  Case in point, my house Dobby suffers from a rain phobia.  He absolutely can not/will not go outside for any reason if it happens to be raining, or drizzling, or wet.   The poor thing is then forced to stay inside on the couch in front of video games under several layers of “fuzzy blanket” that only he is allowed to touch.  It’s a sad state I tell you, given the fact that my house is in some state of rain/wet/drizzle most of the time.  When my house Dobby does take it upon himself to suffer the dreaded, the awful, the rain to do something outside. ~ like fix the round pen…he makes quick work of it and enters the house shaking off his damp clothing much like a dog. 

credit: www.hdwallpaperspics.com 

Another little known fact about the uncommon house Dobby is that they like to EAT.  You would never guess this, as they remain extremely skinny at all times no matter what manner of fried foods, junk food, sweets or anything containing calories they stuff in their mouths.  My Dobby contends that it is genetic and that he has a high metabolism.  I wonder if that “high metabolism” is the same “genetic” marker that keeps him on the couch for days on end, or sleeping until 1:00 p.m. in the afternoon even when he goes to bed at 10:00 p.m. the night before.  Is it THAT high metabolism? When I find out the secret of the Dobby skinny-ness I will let all women know everywhere.  We will bottle it and sell it and be skinny rich girls togetherJ 

Meanwhile, this eating habit means that anything I do not want touched as snack food, must clearly marked…and pointed out physically or he will play the “I didn’t see the writing on the package” game.  I have lost several bags of chocolate chips this way.  We won’t even mention entire dinner plans that have been dashed due to the high eating drive of the Dobby.  An entire cooked ham can disappear in one afternoon when I run to the post office or local store.  Bags of walnuts clearly intended for baking needs ~ poof ~ no more walnuts.  Woe is it to me when I get a large package of chicken nuggets and expect them to be available for a quick lunch on a lazy Saturday afternoon when my 12-year old son is anxious to get back outside.  HA!  Even after several warnings the house Dobby cannot prevent himself from sneaking into said nuggets.  No amount of threatening will cease his great cravings for the soggy microwaved taste of the nugget.  We don’t buy those anymore.   Left overs from the rare restaurant meal are not safe either!  One afternoon after a particularly grueling day, I had been dreaming about the scrumptious taste of the Mexican food I had left in the fridge from the day before.  Oh, the yummy melted cheese, the spicey meat, the peppers, the sauce ~ I even had chips and guacamole!  Oh for JOY!  NOT ~ I found the Styrofoam container neatly in the trash and a quite satisfied Dobby on the couch.  I had peanut butter and jelly ~ sans the jelly as Dobby had polished that off during a morning toast fest.  When I pointed out the “NO touchy” labels on the container I was met with a smug  “It was there, I was hungry, I didn’t’ see it.” 

It is also important to note that Dobbys do NOT take well to any kind of criticism, either real or imagined.  They tend to have a bit of a short fuse on most things….maybe all things.  They can be quite grumpy and belligerent.  Much like a child having a tantrum if they feel threatened in any way.  Such as when gently reminded how to spell the word “Any”  a.n.y.  (not aney)   In order to suppress such child like pouting, we have employed the “inner Mike” technique.  This is where we call upon the gentle, ever patient, ever kind, ever forgiving spirit of our wonderful friend Michael to take over in the situation.  This usually works to restore what Dobby considers a smile to his face. 

I have put a ban upon on all temper tantrum having, pouting and grumpyness in my  household!  We will only be subjected to love and light!!  It is a rule that will be obeyed or the Dobby will get his sock and go.  Now, Dobby realizes this and generally keeps his pouting to a minimum. 

So, if you decide to get a house Dobby, like we have, please do a field test before bringing him home to ensure your  Dobby will fit in with your lifestyle and personality.  Dobby’s can be exceptionally handy to have around.  So long as you employ the proper techniques to manage your Dobby. 

Stay tuned for a post on what to look for in a good Dobby!