Our friends Scott and Kevin have a new animal again. It’s been one after another since we met them, almost thirty years ago, and most of them–not to say all–have never been served to us for dinner. At first, when they lived in the city, they maintained a modest cat collection and a German Shepherd. Then they brought home a box of quail chicks and the fun began.
The only rule, see, at Scott and Kevin’s house is that all the critters have to get along. Kevin believes that all creatures should live in harmony, although her cat Squeeker, before being re-educated, thought that maybe one of the chicks could live in Squeeker. Then they got a horse, and it was clearly time to get out of town. Scott and Kevin moved to the country and began pouring a slab for the Ark.
Not really. It was already there. You could see the direction they were heading when the sellers of the house they bought actually left their own dog behind. Three more showed up eventually. Cats materialized in the yard like puffballs after a rain. Goats happened. Pigs occurred. Most of the animals that lucked onto the farm were castoffs with a sob story of some sort, although the chickens were hired help. The rooster that came with the chickens fell out of favor the day he objected to Kevin bending over to collect eggs. He was well-spurred, bad-tempered and delicious paired with a nice pinot gris.
Other than the rooster, everyone seemed to get with the getting-along program. But Dave and I are city folk and tend to be a little leery. Take Einstein the sheep, for instance; he looked fine on the front end, but harbored enough maggots in the damper regions to send veterinary students peeling out of the school parking lot and home to Mommy. The goats were mannerly, as were the pigs most of the time, but Dave is unlikely ever again to sign up for pig-catching when it’s vaccination time. Looking back, we should have been tipped off when Scott provided us with ear protection. Myself, I was amazed at just how far a two-hundred pound man can slide on his belly, and how high a wake of pig poop he can kick up. The whole vision continues to be a day-brightener.
The emus were something else again. They had heads just big enough to mount eyes and a very pointy beak on, with no room left over for a brain. Dave engaged them in a stare-down, until they decided to get a quick look–a very, very, very, really amazingly quick look–at his crotch. To this day, Dave maintains a personal space just a bit longer than an emu’s neck.
So now there’s Chester. Chester is an alpaca, and Scott and Kevin came by Chester in the same general way they got all the others. They were told that if Chester did not come to live with them, he would become tiger food. I could poke any number of holes in this story, but I’m here to tell you that if someone came up leading a crocodile on a rope and claimed he was rescued from speed-bump duty at the Wal-Mart, the sturgeons in the lower pond would be getting instructions in getting along.
Late-Breaking Bulletin. Three new alpacas. Stand by.
Wow, Kevin and Scott sound like my kind of people!! They put my cat menagerie to shame. I often lament about my teeny tiny house, but I'm afraid I'd end up with lord knows what if I had a bigger home and property.
"Cats materialized in the yard like puffballs after a rain." LOVE that!
I've got the cat thing going. I always wondered why all the stray cats showed up at my door and then I realized we were the only ones on the block without a dog.
It's nice to know there are people who care about unwanted animals. They're totally insane, of course, but it's nice to know there are people who care about unwanted animals (am I repeating myself or is there an echo in my head?).
I wish I owned their local feed and tack emporium.
Good to see all those animals being so well looked after. Not for the faint-hearted though, obviously. Maggots in the damper regions – eeeek!
Great story, well written, and I agree with Charlie!
I can concur about the rooster since we used to raise chickens (Not Mensa Members) and I threatened to shoot the rooster the last time it chased me – I had fended him off with the egg basket and managed to slam the van door shut just as he plowed into it from the outside. A couple days later he must have succumbed to "the creature that lived in the woods" by the chicken house. (I swear I had nothing to do with his sudden disappearance – and he probably wouldn't have tasted very good anyway, pinot gris or none).
Those animals sound pretty lucky to have such nice people looking after them. Not to mention all the friends the animals get to play with.
I am going to point people to this post when they tease me about all of my critters, sanctioned and un.
wow, quite a menagerie. those are some good-hearted souls. the people i mean. i have serious doubts about emus. i also got too close to one once. scaaary. the hoofed creatures, though, i think they have souls. at least they have sweet eyes. love hens. hate roosters. i bet your friends have some rich garden manure.
Just enough head to mount eyes and a very sharp beak on…now that's a nice bit o' wordplay. Funny how a direct stare crosses all interspecies rudeness lines, eh, Dave? Not defending the emu, mind you, but that is a rather big bird to insult.
Some of the photos in this post look to be pre-digital, which is worth remarking upon in the blogworld. Do I spot an early 90's hi-rise waistline on Ms. Brewster? Grecian Formula at work on Dave? Or are we looking at a decade worth of photos?
I always wanted goats to happen at the manor, but the city grew up around us and we're no longer country. Sigh.
Sounds like absolute nirvana to me! Would Scott and Kevin be willing to adopt me? I come complete with a sob story and a get along attitude, and I'll even throw in a case of beer to close the deal.
Most of the critters that luck onto that farm have hit the lottery, and the rest are very well prepared. Julie, those pictures have got to be older than that (note the giant glasses), and I still wear Mom jeans. (I hate the overspill.) Ellen, I'm betting you also FEED cats, no? Lisa, you definitely have the winning ticket.
That's wild. I thought we had a lot with two dogs and a cat.
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Grecian Formula? As if
And in my own defense, I must tell you my eyes have worked independently since I got them. Even I don't have a clue what they are looking at most of the time.
"Cats materialized in the yard like puffballs after a rain. Goats happened. Pigs occurred. Most of the animals that lucked onto the farm were castoffs with a sob story of some sort, although the chickens were hired help. The rooster that came with the chickens fell out of favor the day he objected to Kevin bending over to collect eggs. He was well-spurred, bad-tempered and delicious paired with a nice pinot gris."
I haven't read writing this eloquent, fluid, and witty — just plain GOOD, really — in a long, long time. Seriously. I'm hard to please. This pleases me. Speed-bump alligators. Quick-peeking emus. Two-hundred-pound men belly-flopping through pig poop. What a post. Well done, ma'am, well done.
I have left you an award at my blog, to that end. You might have to scroll down a bit to find it. "From Me to You"…congratulations.
Murr does have a way with adjectives, doesn't she? The "wake of pig poop" was my favorite imagery today.
There's a shout-out to you and your quick wit on my blog post today, sweetie!
The crocodile thing wouldn't work unless you got it high on dope first. Are you a friend of Sassy Miss Kara, who also lives in Portland? She's linked in my blog under "Girls I'd like to spank".
Sounds like absolute nirvana to me! Would Scott and Kevin be willing to adopt me? I come complete with a sob story and a get along attitude, and I'll even throw in a case of beer to close the deal.
I am going to point people to this post when they tease me about all of my critters, sanctioned and un.