All Sorts of Crazy

Tis the season...for what? You might ask. Well apparently, tis the season for hysterical meltdowns, that's what. I'm going to tell you a little story about the day I made just about anyone and everyone I encountered super uncomfortable.

It's May- which is the end of Little Miss's career as a preschooler. It seems like just yesterday I made the phone call to get her enrolled just after her 3rd birthday. On this particular morning, I was shooting her preschool's graduation photos...with...their...caps and gowns. (Is anyone else already tearing up? Just me?) I handled it relatively well until I saw my little preschooler in her cap and gown. Her entire school career flashed before my eyes and I saw her walking across the stage at Waterside Theater- just as I did when I graduated high school. (It didn't help that we were shooting the photos right next to Waterside Theater. Brilliant idea, photographer.) I put my sunglasses on and managed to keep it together enough that I don't think anyone realized I was totally losing my shit. After individual pictures, the class went back to school to get ready for the big group shot and I ran up to the barn to give Broadway his breakfast.

We all know what an animal fruit loop I am, right? It's been discussed? I have a lot of animals and treat them all like they're less furry and have two legs? Yea, that's pretty much it.

Broadway has been moving considerably better since he got his Christian Louboutin's on his feet. (That's what I call his fancy heart bar shoes.) I was thrilled to see his progress- he was no longer just standing out in the pasture, he was on the move! However, on this particular morning he wasn't his new-self...he was back to his old, 'I'm hurting, Fix it for me' self. He was propping his leg out and practically pointing to his hoof. I know this may seem expected- and I should've expected it. Broadway went from practically lame to "healed" in a matter of days. Why wouldn't I expect a setback or two? Because I don't want setbacks- I don't want it to take weeks- I want him fixed NOW. He's been through so very much- from weight issues to an issue that only geldings can suffer from that I won't go into details with on my blog, to arthritis issues, to hoof issues...and now more? Seriously, how much more can we go through? 

I sat down in the dirt and cried. I cried because I couldn't fix him. I cried because of all he's been through. I cried because I was terrified that this was it. This was going to be the one thing I couldn't fix...and I was going to lose him. Yes, I went there. A leg prop and sad eyes took me to that place. I was certain this was the end.

I pulled myself together and headed off to do the preschool group photo. I couldn't tell anyone why my makeup was smudged all over my face- I could't find the words to say it out loud. The only thing I could manage to find were tears. 

In between the group photo and pickup time, I read my friend Laura's blog. Escaping into someone else's world was just what the doctor ordered. I read this post and laughed so hard it dried my tears. (Thank you, Laura for spraying your husband in the mouth with a water hose.)

I thought I was starting to feel okay. I'd left a message with the vet and the tech I spoke with felt like Broadway was having a normal setback and everything was probably fine. (But she thought I needed to be on medication- because you know, I cried when I told her what was happening with him.) I "cowgirl'd up" and went inside to get Little Miss....totally avoiding eye contact with everyone and managed to make it back to the car without crying. Sweet.

Then the phone rang. It was one of my favorite people- another mom of a graduating preschooler, an awesome friend...who thought I was mad at her.

I instantly broke out into hysterically crying...which, I'm sure, made it nearly impossible for her to understand me. But bless her heart- she listened to me, told me I wasn't crazy and comforted me by saying she knew everything would be okay. I believed her, it was going to be okay.

Little Miss and I picked up my daddy for lunch and ran into another sweet friend of ours...who is a pool genius and is turning our "pond" in our backyard back into a pool. (Seriously, she's amazing. It was so gross even snakes were disgusted by it.) She is an animal person like myself...obviously she is b/c she braves the dobermans in the backyard to reach the pool the snakes are afraid of. I left her to work her magic and told her I have my phone if she needs me.

Except Little Miss was playing a game on said phone and shut the sound off...so I didn't hear her call when she called to say the dogs (2 of the 3) had gotten out...of the backyard...that they never leave.

Holy hell. I screamed at a waiter "I NEED MY CHECK!" like a mad woman. All I could picture was Sassy and Calvin (Zorro was in the house) as road kill. They are protective, they are wonderful guard dogs...but street smart? Pahaha, no. Cars? They're fun things to dart in front of, right?! I was trying my hardest to not freak the hell out because 1) I was in a restaurant with my father and daughter and 2) I was with my daughter...who adores these dogs and 3) Let's face it, Little Miss is her mother's child- she was already thinking the worst.

I ran to the car, dragging Little Miss and took off. The restaurant happened to be less than a minute away from my house but it seemed like forever. I prayed I would round the corner and see them waiting for me- but no. I grabbed Zorro & set out running screaming (and crying at this point) "SASSY!! CALVIN!! COME HOME, BABIES!" (This would be the moment all of my neighbors confirmed that I was all sorts of crazy.) The mail lady happened to be delivering our mail and told me she thought my dogs were at the elementary school...probably terrifying children by their vicious licks. I started running towards the school and when I rounded the corner...what did I see? Two little dobies, running wide open (but so close together they looked like they were attached) tongues waggin', legs all over the place. I was so thrilled to see them that at first I wasn't mad at all. Shortly after their return, I found out they not only went to the elementary school- but also to a lawyers office on the main road....then I grounded them. Our pool whisperer was such a help- she drove all over town looking for them. Only a true animal person would do that...she was just as worried as I was.

So now that my day from hell is over...I can laugh at myself a little. It wasn't until today that I was able to do that though. The vet called me from a neighboring town this morning- he had to come down here for an emergency and wanted to see if I'd like to have Broadway checked out. Um, yes, please. Turns out- he had an abscess in his hoof that was trying its best to make its way out- but the Christina Louboutin's were putting a stop to it. Once the vet removed his shoe on the "bad" leg- the abscess burst and he instantly felt much better.

And so did I. 

The Big K

Today was a big day in the B house. Kindergarten registration.

As we walked through the halls of the school I attended as a wee-one, my heart climbed right up to my throat. The school has been totally remodeled- all except for the library, which is ironically where we had to register. So many memories flooded my brain as we entered the room that seemed so enormous when I was a student there. Little Miss was too excited to notice what I was doing. She soaked in the paintings on the wall, the teachers outfits, the books....oh, the books! Little Miss loves to read- and I'm not trying to brag but...okay, I am. She can read- like for reals read, ya'll. So she was pretty fascinated by the walls of books that surrounded us.

I filled out the paperwork (that apparently I could've done before we got there, whoops) and one of the kindergarten teachers asked Little Miss a few questions. Colors, shapes, letters, numbers- the normal stuff. Then the teacher asked her to turn the paper over and draw a picture or maybe write her name- whatever she was comfortable doing. Little Miss broke out all the crayons and homegirl drew a masterpiece. The teacher chuckled. When she was finished, she asked me how to spell the teacher's name. The teacher looked at me puzzled like, "She can't spell her own name? Really, you just said the kid can read?!" She peeped over the table to find "To: Mrs. ____ From: Riya" already written.

"She's so ready. She'll do wonderful- you don't have to worry about a thing."

Should I have warned the teachers that Little Miss thinks she'll be teaching kindergarten with them? Nah, we'll save that for the first day.

Tough Topic

This post will not give you the warm fuzzies. In fact, it may make you sick to your stomach.

Two words to test you to see if you can handle reading forward- horse slaughter. 

In 2007, the last active horse slaughterhouse in the US was shut down. Today, horses are transported to Canada and Mexico, crammed inside low-ceilinged trucks with no food or even a sip of water- to be slaughtered. Late last year, Congress restored funding for U.S. inspectors to oversee horse slaughter, making it legal once again for horses to be slaughtered in the U.S. Many "horse people" are all for this, shockingly, stating that 'at least the US can regulate the slaughter' and go on about how many unwanted horses there are.

When I was 10 years old, my family and I adopted a horse named Brandy. He had been abused in every way possible. He was hundreds of pounds underweight and terrified of almost everything and everyone. Everything was an enemy to him. Prior to meeting us, he'd been rescued by another horse-lover who knew he would never survive. Brandy changed my life.

Last year, my life was changed yet again. I walked into a horse barn full of gorgeous horses and saw one tall, sad boy with a blanket on. He was the one I'd driven hours to see. He was walked out into the aisle way- and when his blanket came off, my heart sunk. I could count every rib and place my head into his hip. He was terribly skinny- terribly helpless...I knew he had to come home with me. A little over a year later, he's "as healthy as a horse." Where would he be if there was a horse slaughterhouse nearby? I never would've found him. 

Let me ask you this- where do you draw the line? If horse slaughter is legal, when are the lines for the horses that are abused at their homes? The horses who are abused long before they reach the slaughter? Will these owners be fined or paid for turning in their horses for slaughter? How many people even know what slaughter really entails?! Do you? If you don't and you are squeamish, I encourage you to skip this part. I'm not squeamish at all- and when I say at all...I mean nothing makes me sick. Researching horse slaughter this last day or so- watching the videos, reading the articles, seeing the photos...even I couldn't handle it.

The following video cannot be embedded due to it's content. Click here link to find out the real deal on horse slaughter. (This video is from a slaughterhouse in Mexico.)

These horses are repeatedly bludgeoned with a "dead-bolt" gun- this gun drives a spike into their skull, rendering some, not all unconscious. (Keep in mind, the operators of the guns are not trained.) Many horses are strung up by their hind leg while squealing for their lives- just before their throats are slit and they're left to bleed to death. They're then dismembered and their meat is sent off for human consumption in foreign countries such as France and Japan.

I recently read that the North Carolina Horse Council supports horse slaughter. At this point, I wasn't surprised- as many horse people have argued the "pros" of horse slaughter with me recently. I've argued my point over on the NCHC Facebook page- mostly to have irrelevant questions tossed my way.


One said:
"How would you like YOUR horse to die if it had a broken leg right now? Poison it with lethal injection solution so that the meat is unusable and put it in a hole to rot?"
Like I said, mostly irrelevant. However, if my horse had a broken leg, I would call a vet. I wouldn't transport him to a slaughterhouse. Furthermore- my horses are my family. Not to sound like the crazy horse lady, but they are! Yes, I would poison my horse to guarantee he would be out of pain, kiss him goodbye and bury him in his pasture. I would not eat him, Hannibal Lecter.


Another said:
"PETA even supports it! It's in Horse & Rider!"
Is it? Interesting. Every article I've read regarding PETA and horse slaughter states they are against horse slaughter. However, they did state (supposedly, this wasn't a quote from their website) that they would be in more support of horse slaughter in the US, than transporting horses to Canada and Mexico. I can see how a journalist could chop that quote right up to fit a "Pro-Slaughter" article. (Remember, I majored it journalism...I'm part scumbag!)


Another said:
"This will stop overcrowding! Maybe it will slow down backyard breeding!"
Someone needs to smack the shit out of you. 


This issue clearly bothers me. It hits me where it really hurts. I'm a tenderhearted animal lover- but for reals, ya'll- I will turn into a raging, lunatic, psycho bitch over this. Please sign the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act of 2011  and encourage your friends, family and neighbors to do the same.

A Different Coffee Date

A few weeks after she passed away, I felt butterfly kisses on my cheek in the middle of the night. I knew it was her, my Mama Jennie. She was the most special person in my childhood...and I was the apple of her eye. We meant the world to each other.

I was in 5th grade and the only real death I'd experienced was when my horse passed away the year before. This was different though- as sad as I was, I knew Mama Jennie was her "old self" again up in heaven. I cried because I missed her, selfishly...but even at that young age, I knew she was happier looking down on us everyday, than she was in a nursing home, seeing us weekly. We joked that all her husbands were fighting over her when she arrived.

The butterfly kisses came nightly for a while- I told my mom that I knew it was her. They say children let spirits in easier than adults- who knows why, but I always believed it...and tried to keep my mind open so she'd always visit. 

This morning while making my coffee, I couldn't figure out where the smell of Oil of Olay, Oatmeal and chewing tobacco ("snuff") was coming from. The oddest combination of sweet smells, but where were they coming from? I smelled it everywhere I went. Then it hit me...Mama Jennie. I cried because I was so happy that I'd not been too busy to realize it was her. I cried because I was happy she wanted to come and check on me this morning...when I felt so terribly lonely. I cried because I missed smelling her, hugging her and being held by her. 

Then, I thanked her, dried my tears and smiled for the time we had together.

Kitty OD

I'm taking a break from editing to share a little story with you all...brighten your day a bit, make you laugh, gross you out, etc. (If you're not an animal person or are squeamish- you may want to skip this post.)

So yesterday morning, in the wee-way-to-early hours of 3am- I was  abruptly awoken when I rolled into a wet spot. (I can almost guarantee the 'wet spot' you're thinking is definitely not the one I'm referring to.) Sweet Pea was snuggled up next to me...and was soaking wet- all in the hind end area. I immediately thought it was his anal glands- but it had absolutely no scent and those of you who've ever smelled anal glands know there is definitely a scent. I put a towel under him & went back to sleep- he wasn't in pain or acting oddly so, I figured it'd probably go away on it's own. Whatever it was.

But it didn't. When I got up, it seemed worse. The uhmm, fluid, seemed like it was literally jogging right out of his butt. I still assumed it was the glands...so off to the vet we went.

A trip to the vet's office is never cheap. There are always a few things you didn't know you needed that you're told your cat will die without. (And Sweet Pea is Little Miss's cat..so you know I had no choice but to get him all better, immediately.) The doctor decides that what I was actually seeing was diarrhea, not anal gland 'juice' (gag) and it's caused from a bacterial infection. He got several shots and we were sent home with antibiotics and a sad heart. (I had the sad heart from the bill, in case you're wondering.)

Shortly after walking in the door, I notice Little Miss's chocolate milk cup from the night before sitting on the floor...empty. (Sweat Pea has been known to drink out of cups, then knock them over when he's finished.) Would chocolate milk cause a cat to have diarrhea like that??? Well, chocolate milk with an adult dose of Miralax mixed in it will. Ouch.

I looked over at Sweet Pea, as if to ask, seriously, dude? You drank that? And I was greeted by a what the hell are you putting in your child's food!?!?! THAT WAS AWFUL! kind of look. Poor guy, he almost-literally shit his brains out.

I think he learned his lesson.