Family VIII: Missy, Empress of All the Light Touches

This is Missy's "scratch my back" face.

This is Missy's "fine, I'll scratch my own darned back" face.

Missy has fallen a couple of rungs on the ladder of superiority here at Bent Barrow Farm—when she arrived, she could steel her small, 80# frame against any assault. She could out-glare, out-hackle, and even outsmart any resident. I came to Bent Barrow Farm a couple of years later, and by then she was already firmly established. Her Emperial Majesty was not to be trifled with.

The human children would like to sew Missy a spandex suit, complete with a cape reading "SM." This stands for "Super Milker." She is, indeed, a paragon of lactational excellence. She produced a whole lot of milk for her own twins, then for her next set of twins, then for the human family for another 22 months before being forced to dry off. She then relactated, spontaneously supplying milk to her daughter's triplets when we all thought her dairy days were done. In between, she almost died but didn't.

Missy is 10 now, which is pushing into goaty old age. She's a bit senile since her illness and is a member, along with Paisley and Townes, of the Not Quite Right club. Still, she gets up joyfully every morning, eats her hay with enthusiasm, and joins me in the pasture each and every day for a bit of browse and a quiet conversation.

Missy loves backrubs, facerubs, and legrubs from the humans, and particularly enjoys having the skin between her two hooves massaged. (Goats, if you recall, have two hooves on the end of each leg—super gross, I know). Missy gets the extraordinary privilege of sitting in FarmWife's lap during hoof trims, which I find absolutely appalling. So what if she's lacking in coordination and bulk! Certain standards of fairness ought to be maintained.

Except for this minor glitch in the order of things, I have no complaints about Missy. She's a tough old bird, and rather nice.

Ears,
Fenway Bartholomule

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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

Continued . . .

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 ...

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Mowers and raccoons and steers, oh my!

In my informal Facebook survey I learned that the majority of Friends of the Muleness want more stories—All the Stories!—and that the story they want most of all is the story of the raccoon. Farmwife says it's hardly a story at all, and that it would be something to talk about had the raccoon been in my barn, or touching my body, or gesticulating at me with it's bizarrely human little fingers to indicate that it would like a little snack or help with its homework. Alas, this is not that kind of story. Before I tell you about the raccoon I have to go backwards and tell you that I am feeling very good in my body these days. My track through the forest has been expanded, my laminitis is at bay, and my health has been very largely excellent since I came here to the Atomic Ranch in December. I am feeling so good, in fact, that I have been cleared for long walks around the neighborhood! Puck, Farmwife, and I sometimes make the long loop up Saratoga and back around Fox Spit, which ...

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To Boot or Not to Boot

There're boots (FarmWife's, pictured) and and then there're boots (mine, below) and boots (suspensory). And THOSE—suspensory, support or protective boots—are what I want to talk about today. (And yes, I know that there are a million other kinds, too, but a mule has only so much time.) I love my Easyboot Epics, and I would gladly wear a second pair on my hind hooves if the opportunity presented itself. So far, it hasn't, but it's only a matter of time until a mule of my caliber starts seeing the corporate sponsorship love. All in due time! In the meantime, FarmWife wonders about protective or supportive boots. You know, the kind that make a mule look very fancy, ready for anything, and primed for tremendous athletic accomplishment? Really, I would love to have some. I think they'd look sassy. The arguments in favor of wearing something like a Sports Medicine Boot are thus: I love to a...

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