Skip to main content

Family IX: The weanling child

My weanling child, who's nearly 12, lives at Bent Barrow Farm part of the time. FarmWife is her mother, and FarmHusband is her stepfather, and she has two other parents as well who occasionally come and scratch me on the nose. Her other parents have a big smooshy English lab puppy, which brings the sum total of Mia's mammal pets to 9—one more than any other human resident of Bent Barrow Farm.

When Mia was just three, she told her preschool teacher that she would like to be a marine paleontologist and the next Annie Lennox. Her interests haven't changed much: she still loves marine mammals and the Eurythmics!

Mia is also a tremendous lover of mules, horses, dogs, and platypuses. She enjoys riding mules and horses and playing with dogs, but I don't know what on earth she enjoys doing with platypuses. It seems to me that their poisoned claws would be reason enough to avoid them.

Mia is one of my very best human friends and is the only one, aside from FarmWife, who knows the very best way to rub my ears (and can reach). She is also a terribly good artist, and draws wonderful portraits of my mulishness from time to time. She never overlooks details: the notch in my ear, the subtle shading of my muzzle, and, above all, the overwhelming beauty of me. She writes lovely poetry (sometimes about mules) and would make a very good blogger, I expect. I will have her write another guest post soon. She also sings, plays a bit of cello, and stages dramatic stage productions from time to time. I dare say there are very few people as diversely talented as my weanling human!

Mia is an empathetic and sensitive girl, a nurturing big sister, and a compassionate friend. She likes pitching in at chore time, mucking out the paddock, currying my muddy bits, and scrubbing my troughs. I rather like that about her, and do you know what? She likes me too.

Ears,
FenBar






Comments

Popular Posts

Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery.   Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance.  Ears to you,  Fenway

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

The Scoop on Bird

 Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok.  I have ridden him...

That Which Was Foretold Has Come To Pass

  After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1)  it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway.  3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud.  4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous.