Aye, Calypso

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One of my all time favorite pictures of Calypso and I… this was the day he arrived in January, 2012.

I was hoping I wouldn’t cry but just putting this picture up got it all going.

Its been 3 weeks since I had one of the most absolute worst days of my life because I had to put our hilarious little Calypso to sleep. And I was alone. And I sobbed after he took his last breaths.

Such sad emotions for one of the happiest little spirits who was well known for the dramatic life he lived.

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Our albino, Cousteau with little Phillipa

Calypso joined the party not long after we lost our big boy, Cousteau.

Ferrets are very emotional creatures. They form incredible bonds with their companions, human and otherwise. Our first ferret, Marshall mourned the loss of our kitty, Malchek for several months. Phillipa was no different. She lost Jacques and then Cousteau in fairly short order.

Within days, Alistair drove here through a snow storm and brought a new bestie for her.

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Phillipa & Calypso in the pirate ship getting along just fine.

He was a mischievous little imp from the get-go, stealing shoes or their insoles, the litter box scoop, hats, anything he possibly could to hide under one of the cars or pieces of furniture.

You just had to laugh at him when we played the “Chase” game, running and hiding from one another throughout the house.

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“I’ve just re-wired the brakes in the RX-7, Mama!”

And his amorous attempts to woo Phillipa were hysterical as he leapt with all 4 feet in the air to pounce on her.

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Calypso learned not to bite, instead choosing to give us ‘kisses’ whenever he could!

He is the one who attacked the guinea pigs on Kentucky Derby day that spring when I had left their bathroom door open. The story of that and, sadly, their eventual demise (which Calypso had nothing to do with) is on the blog, “One Eye Watching You.”

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Showering with Calypso was always a giggle!

We forgave our little Frenchman but Karma is a bitch.

2012 was the year Alistair broke his pelvis, requiring extensive surgery and months of rehab.

Its also the year something went wrong with Calypso’s pelvis. He just couldn’t use his rear legs one day. We watched him drag himself around when we let them out of the cage. Neither of them had any scrapes or missing hair or any indication that something actually happened.

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Twice a day Calypso and I bonded over meds, calorie supplement and treats.

But he never once looked like he wasn’t having fun. If he wasn’t giving up why should I?

So his vet-Mummy got up early each morning to fit in half an hour of physio, massage and meds with him in my lap. My new exotics book came in handy yet again and I added a calorie supplement and treats.

I chronicled his tale on social media, where everyone was following Alistair’s story as well.

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My 2 pelvis patients the fall and winter of 2012.

Calypso bonded to both of us thanks to his limitations, his needs and his wonderful personality.

And we came up with some fun ways to encourage physical therapy when he got a bit stronger.

Everyone fell in love with the Fyfe ferrets, who now have a bit of a fan following. The ferrets and I do holiday videos on the sing-song-saddle and their admirers are plenty.

The fans rejoiced when Alistair brought a little brother, Luigi into the mix 2 years ago. His in-your-face personality was perfect for his older siblings and the 3 of them were inseparable.

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Triple Trouble!

We played, we romped, we had shoes stolen, we showered, we cuddled, we made videos, we laughed, we had many visitors who had never seen or held a ferret before and we loved sharing our ferret ambassadors with the world.

But then something wasn’t quite right with Calypso in November.

Putting it all together with our internal med vet friend we realized he had a tumor on his spleen. A tumor that would grow like Harry’s had and would eventually take his life.

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Mummy and her boys!

Just like before, though, it looked like he was still having a lot of fun. Who were we to be sad and give up on him when, clearly, their lives were great?

Other than the one horrible night the tumor must have ruptured and he went into hemorrhagic shock. He was barely alert and I held him through the night in a blanket on my lap and told him all of the things that needed to be said. I told him that everyone loved him and that he had brought so much joy to so many people. That Phillipa and Luigi adored him and all of our house-sitters like Jessi, Carson, Lynn and Whitney would miss him so much. That if he showed me he was in pain I would try to do something as his vet but that night he hovered between life and death in a peaceful state so I just held him as his Mummy.

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Luigi and Calypso, post bath, fluffed & buffed.

And the morning welcomed both of us back!

Calypso lived to see 2016. And February. And March! And we went back to twice-daily calorie supplements and special bonding together. And I made the effort to include the full trio in our Christmas video this year because it was important for me to share him once more.

And he had a couple of minor episodes of weakness but he continued to eat, drink and be merry, stealing Loki’s kibble whenever he could and mucking around in the water bowl with ice cubes for Boomer.

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the boys bellying up to the bar…

And we didn’t tell anyone because he was still pretty vibrant and because we have lost so many of our companions over the last year and half and it became Time for old Boomer and Loki keeps having random seizures and I didn’t want more people feeling sad for us and I really wasn’t sure how I would do anything on my own if I had to and I researched what I could but there isn’t much out there and he kept stealing footwear and wanting to come out to play.

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Hard to get pics of them all holding still… hence the blurry Phillipa!

I had fully planned to take the trio with me to Bismarck this recent trip back. Calypso had been doing fine despite more weight loss and we have our old ferret cage there. What an adventure it would have been but in the end, it didn’t happen.

He had another episode of weakness that he didn’t bounce back from. And he wasn’t engaging with the thing-on-a-string for the first time ever. And the shine went out of his eyes.

For the very first time he wasn’t having fun.

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Noshing on Loki’s kibbles a few weeks ago.

I knew what I needed to do but wasn’t sure how to do it.

How to hold 1.6lbs of ferret and find enough muscle to somehow inject a sedative…by myself. I didn’t want his or my final memories of our time together to be a struggle of pushing and restraining and then a sharp needle in a thin body. Our relationship deserved better than that.

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All of our relationships deserved better.

Somehow I remembered a cough syrup that I had in my med collection and was able to put that with his calorie supplement 3 Sunday mornings ago and he peacefully slipped into a boozy slumber. I was then able to give the first injection peacefully without so much as a hair twitch.

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A couple of years ago, high up in the cat condo (and we wonder how he injured himself?)

I laid him on a blue towel in my lap and watched my tears fall onto his beautiful cinnamon body as I gave him his final injection.

And I sobbed as he took his last breath, a heavier version of what I’m doing now. He took my tears with him across the Rainbow Bridge where so many other Fyfes have gone.

And I’m sorry to write this because you all shared in his dramatic stories and his joy-filled adventures.

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Just a few weeks ago

And you all know how much Phillipa and Luigi miss him but I am just so thankful that they have each other.

And I’m thankful Alistair called that day to help me through and see how I was and I’m thankful Merielle and Theresa were online hand-holders as well.

And so goes the magical tale of Calypso Fyfe. If you know John Denver’s song you know it rings true about this boy, with a slight adaptation to one of the words:

Aye, Calypso, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell. Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have loved you so long and so well.

RIP, sweet Calypso. There will never be another like you. xo

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Calypso & Mummy this winter.

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More of our trio with Papa

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One of their many fans making sure Calypso looked good in his beret!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Buckle Up!

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Loki, Cleopatra and UB got to go on another adventure with Mummy a couple of weeks ago when they joined me in our 3/4 ton Dodge Ram and headed out east to spend a few days with Daddy!

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Dog is my co-pilot!

Loki, who has always been an excellent traveler got to ride shotgun in the cab with me.

Which means she also got to listen to me sing along to my 80’s and 90’s musical selections I chose for this trip.

(I also had brand new Coldplay, which I highly recommend and am deeply addicted to but most of the musical journey was more nostalgic than that).

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Ahhhh….

There is nothing like belting out ‘Hey, Jealousy’ under clear blue skies on an open road headed straight towards North Dakota.

And I was doing fine with Loki until I got going with Vertical Horizon. For whatever reason, as I was lamenting along with the lead singer about “grey sky mornings”, Loki cocked her head up at me and I swear she sneered.

Which isn’t really very obvious because of her squished-in Boston Terrier face and her accompanying harelip but I’m pretty sure I got a look.

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And yet she was fine with Matchbox 20. Go figure!

Music has been and always will be a huge part of my life. I usually have some sort of soundtrack running through my head and at times I’m choreographing figure skating or dance moves in my mind. (As a note, this can be dangerous when you are on a treadmill and you start to add physical movements imagining you’re on Dancing With the Stars. Maybe you already know that. I’m sure its quite common…)

But I digress.

I’m sure my love of music and movement to it stems from spending so much time in ice rinks doing just that. I loved making up routines to everyone else’s music which may have annoyed my coaches early on but led to requests for my choreographic skills later on.

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Skater Girl! Loved that dress!

I love listening to lyrics and trying to figure out what the singers are trying to tell me. I’m curious if the song has any real meaning or if its just a catchy beat. I like introspective writing with music but I also enjoy songs about loving the mountains, the ocean and nature itself.

John Denver was a master at that. A lot of Canadian singers and bands do a good job of that, too.

I also am enjoying how my perspective has changed the more years I’m on this planet towards particular songs or styles.

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Classics!

I finally got some of Sting’s songs that he wrote after his father died many years ago.Or, I think I got them. What I originally thought were songs penned for unrequited or lost love, I actually now think were for his father.

“Why should I cry for you?”

Great question! I don’t know if he had the greatest relationship with his Pops or the Catholic church but I wonder. The song, All This Time is catchy and perky and radio friendly but the more I listened (and repeated, sorry, Loki) the more I heard about a boy’s father dying and a whole whack of Catholic images.

Music plays a big role in the books I write more for myself than my characters.

None of the characters in Missing Lake are figure skaters and the songs they analyze are given to them by their English Teacher.

The books are another part of the reason I loaded UB and Cleo into crates in the enclosed back of my pickup and traveled east. My second book signing in Watford City finally took place!

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Books & Bling sold at the uber funky Door 204 where I got to see some great friends, Brenda, Marna and Zack!

I combined it with my Chloe & Isabel bling and we had a heck of a good time at a cute new coffee shop in the former teensy town that almost burst its seams in the middle of the oil patch a few years ago.

My friend, Wendy joined me for the 2 1/2 hour drive (dogs stayed in Bismarck this time) and we had a wonderful time seeing so many of our friends from the years in the early 90s when we both lived there.

So much has changed.

I’m not a 21 year-old professional figure skater with a long, curly pony-tail shacked up with the new doc in town who was just a few years older.

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Getting to speak to an auditorium full of students about accomplishments and challenges and plain old writing!

I’m not a one-dog, one-cat and one-ferret young Canadian with only a student visa and no hope in sight of getting a Green Card.

I’m not the step-mom of 2 cute, blonde little Canadian kids sitting at lunch with them and their friends or volunteering for track meets, watching them play softball, baking endless dozens of cookies, helping them do homework and taking them to swimming lessons or hosting Hallowe’en parties, or crafting Happy Parties for them to break through the grey skies and cold winds of a North Dakota winter.

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Our one & only Happy Party out at our farm. It was epic!

Our friends in Watford City have watched me become so many different things and while many changes have been huge our friendships have remained. I felt so lucky and loved the day we were back there and wish it could have been for longer.

Alistair and I also had things to address back on our farm in Bismarck.

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some of the herd in Bismarck

Like the horses.

They, like every other animal on the Fyfe Farm are aging and some decisions are going to have to be made.

It was good for me to see the changes he has told me about all winter and to watch how the herd moved.

To see the older mare who used to run the herd looking weedy and standing off by herself with my own eyes.

She’s not sick, she’s just old. When older horses start losing weight it can turn into a rapid deal.

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Cassie and Penner. Not on The List!

Counseling clients on end-of-life decisions with horses is different than with smaller companion animals in some respects. I often ask what the rest of the herd would do with a particular horse in question.

Would they form a circle around them to protect them like many herds do with young foals? Or would the herd move on, aware that the older or wounded individual was slowing them down, making them all easier targets for prey animals?

I believe, with this particular mare, the herd has moved on.

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Flash, Jessie and Fumie… not on The List and obviously not suffering!

Decisions were made but nothing needed to be done just yet so we got to enjoy our time together with the dogs back in Bismarck. We tried new restaurants and enjoyed old favorites. We sat with the 3 dogs in our 2 recliners sipping wine or martinis at night. Alistair chipped golf balls and we hot tubbed under a gorgeous blanket of stars each night.

We went to his clinic’s Christmas party and even though I must have missed the ‘casual attire’ memo we both looked and felt great.

And then it was time to load up 2 vehicles with boxes of books, bling, golf clubs, fancy shoes and fancy dresses, jackets and dogs.

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Rest area along hwy 200 with an enclosed dog area! Brilliant!

The trip back was much easier handling the 3 dogs with Alistair there to help.

I am sure I was a spectacle on my own trying to manage blind Loki and the other 2 wrapped around my legs or each other at the rest stops. Cleo and UB used to have leash manners but living in the middle of nowhere with an entire forest or 40 acres of prairie for a back yard we’ve let that training lapse.

Loki didn’t seem to mind my singing as she nestled into her magic blanket in the front seat for the 11 hour journey back to Montana.

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Following the Jetta through sleepy towns like Jordan along hwy 200.

And now we’re back and we had snow for 3 days which Loki wasn’t impressed with.

We have enjoyed it, though, getting out on snowshoes and the snowmobiles.

And throughout all of this our household has changed once again, which is one more reason I needed to go away to Bismarck to be with Alistair for a few days.

I’m not ready to write about this one because it broke my heart even though it wasn’t a surprise and I was alone except for 3 friends on Facebook and Alistair on the phone helping me through a very difficult act and my subsequent grief.

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Heading west, coming back to Montana, which was different yet again.

But that’s for another time.

There were so many reasons for me to load up the truck with so much stuff and 3 special spirits and I am so glad to have had the chance to once again go to our other home. The drive is long but if the companions are fun and the weather is great and the music is just right the journeys can be pretty special.

For the books. The bling. The Christmas party. The horses. The decisions. And the need to be away and the need to come back to another new normal with my support group around me.

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Packing up after a rest stop break between Circle & Jordan, MT.

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“Please don’t play the ABBA cd, Step-Gammy!”

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Snowshoe fun back in Montana!

Fyfe Characters

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Trying to take pictures with good old Casey a few years ago

I got to thinking about our crazy animal companions the other day and I didn’t get melancholy over the losses that have seemed never ending the past year & a half.

I could have easily slipped into a dark sadness but I started remembering how absolutely goofy some of them were, and some of the silly situations they got themselves into and I started smiling. And laughing. And I thought it would be fun to share some of the stories about pets who are still here and pets who are gone and hopefully you will get a chuckle out of them, too.

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Bonjour. Did you call for me?

Like Jacques. Our black-eyed white ferret.

Ferrets like to hide and they can disappear into tiny spaces and crevices just about anywhere. If they can fit their head into or under something then they can generally get their bodies in. And they can climb, too, the little acrobats.

We would lose Jacques for hours, calling & calling for him. He often would appear from our bedroom but we couldn’t find out where he was hiding.

Until, for some reason, I pulled out a drawer beneath shelves in my closet.

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How Jacques slept amongst the sequins, spandex and fish nets!

He had to climb straight up to get himself into a large bin where the duds of my day as a figure skater/show girl now reside. Fishnet stockings, sequins, bangles, beads, wrap-around skirts and show costumes and there’s little Jacques curled up within it all. Sometimes he was buried and other times he was just chillaxin’. In the spandex.

After that we affectionately called him Jacques Brian Boitano Fyfe.

And where does one begin with Casey’s stories?

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Casey always was up for a snuggle, preferably on your lap.

My vet school friend drove him from Saskatoon down to Bismarck when he had finished his PT after his year of being rebuilt at our vet school. Theresa had kindly fostered him for us and happily came for a visit. Minutes before they reached the US border Casey puked all over her. That was too bad given the fact the border guard apparently was pretty hot and Theresa was single back then.

Good old Casey.

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One of many, many body parts Casey dragged home over the years.

Casey loved Montana. (Who am I kidding? Casey loved EVERYthing!)

Our back yard borders USFS so there are miles and miles of forest. The dogs all treated it as their own little kingdom.

One time, early on, Casey & Harry didn’t come back from a hike they had joined me on. We called and called into the trees and Harry eventually did return. We called all of our new neighbors, the restaurant that used to be here, the pet shelter in town… nothing.

Until a few hours later when a Subaru (go figure) pulls up the driveway with Casey sitting in the back seat.

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Do you want to share, Mummy?????

There is a back road into town that runs through the forest behind our house and this lady and her son were out for a drive when they saw the boys. They said they really had to coax Casey into the car, that he looked kind of scared and that he kept looking back towards the trees… right, that’s because he probably heard us calling him and he’d never been in a car before. Trucks only.

Casey’s big adventures.

(Along those lines, when you see dogs in the middle of nowhere, they are probably closer to their home/farm than you think.)

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Oh, Muldy!

Our ginger ragamuffin Special Agent Fox Mulder Fyfe sometimes would disappear in Bismarck. We figured he had a poker game and dancing girls going on down the then-dirt road leading to the farm.

One time he came back I let him inside and was instantly overpowered by the smell…

“Hon, I think he’s been right by some fireworks! He’s all smoky!” I thought…

“That’s not smoke, Tan. He’s been skunked!” (Alistair and I have very different senses of smell but he was right and Muldy spent a few days in the garage.) Bathing cats isn’t a lot of fun, either.

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HRH Sport Fyfe

Then there is our stuck-up Siamese, Sport. He’s declawed and hoity toity, therefore he’s never been a hunter. He has tried to learn the ropes, though, often following Mulder around inside and out.

One day Whitney was looking out our kitchen window and asked me what the heck Sport was doing… running around the entire (big) house at least three times with something in his mouth.

He’d caught a mouse!

Only… it was a dead mouse… Mulder had caught it that morning. I watched him toy with it and then leave it beneath the camper where Sport had been investigating. Atta boy, Sporto.

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Harry in his element.

Then there was Harry who may have had some wolf in him. Our loyal, handsome, somewhat-quirky boy used to come to elementary school or daycare talks I would do because he was so unique looking and just plain cool!

But he never really learned normal dog behaviors (which is fine on the Fyfe Farm. Just donate your reproductive organs and get along).

So when the daycare kids left the door open to their soccer fields in downtown Bismarck one summer, Harry decided show and tell was over. Outside is better than inside when you’re a wolf-dog, right?

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Harry and Alistair had a very special bond.

I probably would have been fine on my own but when the kids realized the situation they all decided to “help”.

Imagine about 40 little kids chasing behind me waving their chubby little arms in the air squealing, “HARRRRRRRRRYYYYYY”. Harry glanced back and picked up the pace. Again. And again until finally one of the teachers got the kids to hold back.

2 hours.

I spent 2 hours sitting in a nearby neighborhood waiting for Harry to cross the street from underneath the tree he’d found to hide under.

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Quite the creature.

What brought a lot of this up in my mind was Loki’s latest adventure a couple of mornings ago.

In the space of 3 minutes she disappeared on me. I let the 3 dogs out every morning and then go let the barn kitties out and quickly feed UB and Cleo. 3 minutes. I swear.

No Loki.

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Here I am, Step Gammy!

I looked everywhere. Our front yard is a big, wide open area. I can see all over the place. I started calling and calling… that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach where something is very wrong….

Then  I heard her little bark (it was actually her pissy bark, to be honest so I knew Little Miss Independence needed some help).

There she was standing in the middle of the creek. The snow banks are still 2 feet high, which is why I couldn’t see her. Thank goodness the water level and flow aren’t too high right now!

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Loki needs her beauty sleep… especially after such a harrowing morning!

She was “chibbering” away but we warmed up by the woodstove and all is back to normal.

Which isn’t very normal at all around this place.

I could go on about Cleo and the UPS man or Casey knocking Dad over after knee surgery or Oscar bringing home bats, bunnies, & endangered birds or the ferrets vs the guinea pigs or UB vs the elk, UB vs the grizzly bear, UB vs the mama bear with 3 cubs, UB vs the bobcat and UB vs Georgia Woo Fang (who, thanks to that altercation is now just Georgia Woo) or discovering, as a veterinarian, that Phillipe was Phillipa or Dash not knowing how to pasture breed the 8 mares with their 8 foals or Casey splitting his head open on the snow plow blade or Gampy forgetting Loki when he was getting hay or Boomer getting locked in our closet when we went to Disneyland or Oscar & Cooper trying to have sex or UB piddling all over my clinic or a piddled-upon stove burner (aka Why Cartman Became a Barn Cat) or Jinxie going for a ride with the Schwan’s man, Whitney & Daddy when she accidentally moved to Montana ahead of schedule…. its endless mayhem and silliness.

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“You can’t leave me, Matt! I love you!”

Well, future tales for many have, indeed ended.

I could choose to let that wash over me but I’m choosing instead to have a bit of a laugh yet again. As zany as many of our animal companions have been I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Without question or hesitation I would bring each and every one of them into the house and share our worlds on the prairies or in the mountains.

And we will love on those who remain with the biggest of hearts and all of the great food and meds-when-needed that we can provide.

And we will provide the kindest, most humane goodbyes when its time for that, too.

Thanks for coming along, Friends. This has been fun!

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Alistair and his favorite redhead, Marmalade.

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UB, always with the worried expression, looking slick in his new rain slicker a few years ago!

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Our Trio of Trouble, Phillipa, Calypso & Luigi a couple of months ago

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Alistair with Mouse & Jockey last winter

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Oscar and Mummy many moons ago. He’s the reason I started this blog! xo