Mouthy Monday

Alexi's mom made her send me this story. I'm glad she did. The discription is beautiful, simple and clear. I want to know though, who's Jackson?

Go Alexis mom!!

There seems to be some confusion on the Tally/Cupcake stories. I accidentally posted a snippet of my next story, then yanked it. Call it a teaser if you want. If you hit scared/mad off of my labels list you'll get the four I've written so far. 3 about Tally and 1 about Cupcake.



Our geldings are having good time this morning. Bucking, playing, running-just acting goofy for the most part.

It's just cool enough to make them frisky, but not so cold that they stand with their tails turned to the wind, trying to keep warm. They have four or five acres that they can play on, the span of the little trap we keep them in.

They run up and down the fence with my filly who happens to be on the other side of the fence. They run as far as they can, wheel, then run the other way. Jason's sorrel horse looks like a dressage horse, trotting along doing an extended trot, almost floating above the ground. Woodrow's not quite so graceful--he runs across in front of Smoke, bucking and throwing dust up behind him. Smoke's too dignified to cut up like the other two, but he gives in just in the wink of an eye, catching full speed in two strides, catching and moving past Woodrow like he's not even there.

He throws his head up-"Ha-catch me."

Sorrely falls in behind Smoke, happy to play a game of catch me if you can. Barbie squeals and prances at the corner of her pasture, jealous of the three boys that can play together.

She spins and takes off after one of our pokey little calves, who don't satisfy her with much of a chase. The calf ambles out of her way, only to make his way back to the round bale, and resigns himself to chewing his cud as he lays down.

Our nurse cow watches everything from the peace of her pen behind the barn. She's skittish this morning, the cool air seems to make her feel lively as well. Clementine isn't much for attention from people today, she got a good dose of being whacked with a water hose last night--she wouldn't go in the chute so we could worm her.

She's such a pet she normally goes anywhere we want, but she knows full well what goes on when we drive her towards the chute with the head gate. Normally a shot or two, nothing too horrible, but horrible enough for her just the same. A vitamin shot and some Ivomec and she was back to eating her feed for the evening, none the worse for the wear, other than her delicate feelings.

This evening when I go to feed her she'll be back to her old habits, nearly knocking me down to get to her feed trough before I pour her feed in.The horses are still now, grazing peacefully on some of the last few blades of bermuda.

In the summer there was grass belly deep in their trap, and in some spots there's still some left. They've been through three round bales since it started getting cold, but most of it went to Woodrow and Clementine.

They don't stray far from the bale feeder, usually just far enough to go in the pens for a drink from the big trough, then back out to nap or munch on hay.

Jackson's goat watches everything from her little pen, pacing back and forth intermittently. When she tires of wearing a track around her pen, she hops up on the roof of her house, and rests in the sun.

The horses find this delightful, usually lipping at her ears or any little tuft of her hair that happens to press it's way through the squares of the wire on her pen. She's a character, she bleats to beat the band anytime anyone comes outside, she's a bottomless pit when it comes to eating. Hay, scraps, some wheat mids of an evening...they all keep her much fatter than most goats would be.

She loves to be turned out with the horses, but has a tendency to wander if left our for too long. She's faithful in her way, a shake of a bucket or a feed scoop sends her scrambling back towards her pen as fast as her short legs can go.

The horses will play with her when she is turned out, exceedingly gentle with her, they seem to know she shouldn't really be out with them but have a good time while she's there none the less.

Our life is filled with animals of all kinds, and I'm reminded at times like this how thankful I am to have them in my life. Not only to have them in my life, but to be able to afford them, and to take care of them like they all deserve.

No, we don't need a goat, or the two dogs, or even the little short, fat, paint mare that Jackson loves so much. We could manage fine without all of them, but why? They bring a smile to our faces everyday, between their silly habits and the silly things that they let Jackson do.

Jackson's little mare will flip her feed pan towards him, closer to the gate when she sees him coming with her supper in the evening. If Jason or I come in the pen with her, she bucks and runs for the other end, but if Jackson comes in, she stands quietly by until he pours her feed in the rubber pan. He'll more often than not give her a big hug around her neck as she dips her nose in the tub for her first bite, or he may pat all down one side and walk around to pat down the other. She's different with Jackson than she is with Jason or me, almost forgiving to an extent.

She won't hesitate to run sideways or jump on my foot if it's just me around, but with Jackson, she never moves a muscle. Suzy takes Jackson's tough love in stride, and can't wait for the next time he decides to come and play.

Between wrestling, trying to ride her, and throwing her toys where she can't reach them, it would be enough to drive any other dog crazy, but Suzy doesn't mind a bit. She wags her tail, and licks his face if he lets her get close enough. He'll smack her, tell her to get down, then she usually does it again as she runs off with whatever toy he's brought her.

Our border collie is just as good with him, much better than I could have hoped for with a dog that someone dumped on us. He loves to roll around on the ground with Jackson, often letting Jackson pull his tail, legs, ears, what ever Jackson happens to get his hands on. Their favorite game is to take turns chasing each other, giggling and barking, one right after the other.

Stitch is funny about things, he loves to sit in my lap and be scratched, but doesn't care at all to ride on the back of a truck. He can stand flat footed next to our four foot tall round bales, and jump on top of them with never a thought. For a long time that was his perch-it seemed like he was watching over things. There when we left, there when we came back. It was almost comforting, knowing that he was always there.

In the summer when I'd exercise my horses in the pasture, he'd often follow me, matching them step for step, stride for stride as we went around the fence line. He'd find a spot nearby when I'd start to lope circles, watching all the time with his head resting on his paws.