Oh What A Beautiful Morning...

Sometimes we have expectations for a day.  There might be a plan in place, a schedule, a sort of outline in our mind of what we expect to accomplish in that day, but the unexpected always seems to sneak in.  The unexpected can be happy or sad, frustrating or benign, simple or complex.

Yesterday started out with a sketch in my head of what needed to be done.  First their was the usual:  coffee in the morning while checking email, head to my mother's house to prune her hedges and plant her plant boxes, fuzziness in between to do what I felt needed to be done, and finally meet a friend and trail ride our horses late in the day.

It was a beautiful, sunlit day.  The air was so dry, the sky so blue. It was the kind of day that almost makes you want to sing. I loaded up all the gardening tools, electric clippers and other items I would need for the job in my Mom's yard and headed out.  First stop, coffee at Starbucks, followed by a quick purchase at the plant place.  I selected some lovely annuals to put in the planters at my mother's.

The yard work and planting took me a few hours.  I then drove to my Dad's grave site to plant some plants there, weed and beautify the area.  I had just enough time to get home, let the dogs out for some play time, give the horses more hay, eat something, get changed, and meet my friend for that trail ride.

That's when hell in a handbasket came to visit.

My lovely android phone has been in a time warp lately.  Text messages seem to get stuck in cyberspace, then, purely on whim, arrive in my phone, sometimes many hours, sometimes a day later.  I heard the familiar ping of the text messages as I was finishing up at the cemetery, so I checked it.  It was almost a day old text letting me know about my horse which is boarded.  He seemed to have acquired some type of bug bite which was swollen under his neck, and his back right leg was red.  The boarding facility is very good about getting in touch with you immediately.  I wish my phone was as good.

Quickly, I recalculated the day.  I could run down to the boarding facility and check this horse before I did all the other stuff.  The trail ride was going to occur at a different facility, where my other horse is at the moment getting some training and solving some problems which have manifested.  He is there for two weeks.

I think our roads need to be added to the worst commutes
in America list.

Interstates in my area right now are a disaster.  You have to avoid them as much as possible if you don't want to be standing for hours watching grass grow on the berm.  Time lapse photography is faster.  So I selected back roads and headed toward home and the barn to check horse #1.  This route took me very near my house.

On the road from my house to the barn, I realized a cat had been hit by a car and was laying near the berm, a bit onto the road.  It was an orange tabby.  I felt bad.  I always feel bad for cats that have been hit.  There are alot of farms in our area who allow cats to breed.  The cats are ultimately feral, intact (unspayed or neutered) and all over the roads.  I deliberately drive very slowly along these roads because many times these cats will run just in front of my car.

I continued on to the barn, finding, alas, that even this back road was encumbered by a road crew, down to one lane and trying to rectify a telephone pole which, beyond anyone's imagination as to how, was split in half, hanging precariously between the wires and the street and the roof of someone's home.  I am still wondering about that.

Once at the barn, I went out to the field to examine horse #1.  The bite was a good sized one, from what I do not know, but the leg was not really all that red anymore.  I had used a medication on what seemed to be a bit of leg fungus (common to horses) on the cannon bone and either the medication caused the red reaction, or I needed to apply sunblock to the skin on this leg after removing the fungal material.  Horse #1 was as happy as a clam with no ill effects, so I headed back home.

I don't know why, but I decided to go back home the way I just came, even though it meant going through road crew hell and past the hit kitty again (something I don't usually like to see for a second time).  As I approached where the hit cat was located, something made me stop my vehicle in the road.  I decided to move the cat's body to the bushes and off the road, so it wouldn't be run over again.  I had a pair of heavy duty gloves in the car from gardening, so I went to grab them.  I started walking toward the cat, and that's when the cat lifted its head.

Do you see what I mean about a day?

My heart was in my throat.  This was truly a dilemma.  The cat was obviously injured very badly.  I'm no vet, but my estimation was that life #9 was used up here. It was also feral and was now using whatever energy it had left to hiss at me and try to get away.  Unfortunately, it could not move its back end.  What to do?

I had a towel in my car.  I got it.  I laid the towel over the cat's head and very carefully picked it up.  I then put it on the mat on the floor of my car in the back seat area.  I had to drive home to let my dogs out and give the horses hay.  I wasn't very far from home.  Time was now dwindling down.  I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I needed to get changed.  Somehow, I now had to try to figure out what to do about the cat.  I could not have left it there.  I knew it couldn't be saved.

After pulling in my driveway, I acted like I was on a game show of mad dash.  I literally RAN to let the dogs out, RAN to the back fields to give the horses hay, RAN into the house, RAN upstairs and changed clothes, RAN downstairs and grabbed a highly scrumptious meal--mango peach applesauce and a mueslix bar--grabbed a drink for the road, left the dogs outside (my husband had phoned that he would be home in 10 minutes, so they would be fine for now), and went to my car.

The first thing I did was peer in the window at the towel where I had left the cat.  To my utter shock, the cat was not on the towel.  Now I had a feral, very hurt cat in my car.....SOMEWHERE!  I slowly opened the door (think horror movie waiting-for-the-thing-to-jump-out mode).  I spotted a striped orange tail on the other side of the back seat area, sticking out from under the seat.  Okay.  Fine.  At least I knew the cat was still in the back.

I jumped in the car, grabbed my cell and started driving.  My vet's office is on speed dial.  I called them first.  This was later in the afternoon.  My vet was not in, the technicians were not there, and there was no one who could euthanize a cat.  There is an emergency clinic.  But I wasn't sure I wanted to go there.  I decided I would take the cat to the Humane Society.  I knew that they usually had a euthanasia technician on site, and perhaps they would help me.

I need to remind you that this entire time I was very stressed over the situation.  I was working on pure adrenaline to keep me from not breaking down, stopping my car and sobbing in the middle of the road.

I arrived at the Humane Society location and found two people sitting behind the desk.  I described the situation.  Luckily, there was help.  Two women accompanied me out to the car.  They devised a strategy to carefully open the door and extract the cat.  I offered my gloves but they had their own.

Slowly opening the car door, the technician didn't see any movement.  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the kitty had died.  She removed him and placed him on a towel lovingly and examined him.  Confirmed he was intact, and very badly injured.  He would not have survived.  It did not make me feel any better.

They thanked me for caring enough to stop and pick the cat up.

Sometimes I hate who I am.  I hate the fact that I am compelled to stop on the road and move dead animals.  I wonder about the kind of person who could hit a cat and not stop.  How long had that kitty been on the road suffering, scared?  I was extremely upset at that point.  I no longer needed the adrenaline.  This was the worst "down" of the day.  That feeling of utter helplessness, where you know you can't touch something and bring it back to life.

I'm still sad today.  I will probably be sad for the rest of the weekend when I think about this, or for that matter, whenever I think about this.  Because I know I'm going to see more of this on the road.  And I know I'm going to have to stop.....again.

I did make the time to meet my friend.  I didn't end up trail riding, just riding in the ring, but somehow just being around my horse helped alot to dispel some of the sadness I was feeling at the end of what started out to be a beautiful day.

Aaaarrrrooooo

Hibernation Nation

This is the top of our hill looking down from our house.
It's what we have to travel down to escape in the winter.

I have decided beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am a fair weather person.  By fair weather I mean, over 70 degrees, bright sunshine, with as little humidity as possible.  My favorite place to be is the beach or near some body of water (a pool can qualify) on a nice day.

I've come to this conclusion in the last several days while cleaning out my horse stalls in freezing weather.

I try to make this experience as energizing as possible.  First, I tell myself that I have the benefit of doing weight bearing activities, which keeps me young, builds muscles and bone density.  Guiding a wheelbarrow full of muck the necessary distance to the manure pile, lifting water buckets, hay bales, shoveling bedding...all this helps me stay away from the gym and barbells.  I hate barbells, and videos with barbells or hand weights.  The elipse has nothing on a morning in the barn.

I also have oldies on the radio channel in the barn, and I sing my way through morning chores.  The chickens look at me sideways, but I think they get it, because while I'm singing to the oldies, they are bedding down in the sawdust in the aisle and doing their daily cleaning/dusting routine.

I visualize past days on the beach in sunny weather, lounging and reading a good book.

Summers in Rehoboth, DE offers night sites like this one.

Not even the dogs want to stay out beyond a certain threshold time in frigid temps.  Today it was 6 degrees in the morning, and Burton was holding his paw up like it would fall off from the cold at 01:01 minutes into the outside activity.  Winston lost his mind and was actually trying to play with a green ball to stay warm.  In they came, where they immediately grabbed all the warm seating as if to say "please don't bother us until it's at least 40 degrees out there."

The cats go out the front door and within seconds appear at that back patio to come in.  They never believe what we have to say, because, well, they are cats and have to "experience" it for themselves.  They don't have really good memories either because within a half hour we are repeating the revolving door scenario.

I know that layers are the up and coming trend in fashion, but I don't think the industry was thinking of my layering schemata when they started marketing those pretty camis with lace that go under a shirt.  Here's the must wear barn gear:  underarmour or cuddle duds (tops and bottoms), zocks lining socks, wool socks over the zocks, turtleneck, light layering sweater, heavy wool sweater, jeans, fingerless wool gloves (the ones with the mitten covers), fuzzy hat, jacket.  Sometimes, if things are really bad, the carhart bibs come out and go over the jeans and sweater layers, then the jacket.

Oh yeah...this would be warm.

In fact, now that I'm on the subject, if you look in a fashion catalog where they are selling winter wear, sometimes you will see a lovely model dressed in a down vest with a wool patterned sweater, hat and gloves doing some outdoor activity like walking a dog or holding a horse on a lead rope, or sitting on porch rail holding a cup of what I always think is hot chocolate.  She is smiling and happy and looks warm despite there being major snow in that photo.  My thought is this...please have her do a few horse stalls in 6 degree weather and then ask her to pose.  That will tell us two things:  (1) does that clothing really keep you warm? and (2) how much does she REALLY like winter?

We've been lucky in Pennsylvania to date.  Very little snow.  Above average temperatures.  So why am I complaining?  I'm complaining because I can.  Because I'm not a winter person anymore.  Yes, I ski.  Yes, I go see ice sculptures. Yes, I make snowmen sometimes, and snow balls, and enjoy the first romp in the snow with over excited dogs.  Yes, I like seeing our horses prance in the powdery snow when it first falls in mass quantities.  Yes, I've even taken trail rides in the first snow fall of the season.  But now I look at that person like some crazy lunatic part of me that I don't even know.

I need some dry/arid climate that holds a temperature of about 70 - 88 non-humid degrees in the summer and 40-50 in the winter.  All suggestions welcome.  I'm off to put on another layer and take the dogs out for their one minute pee break.

Aaarrrooooo!