Act I:
Return home and announce, "NOW I shall commence to cleaning my house!"
Start with the laundry and dishes to ease yourself in.

ACT II:
Lucy: Meow
Lucy: Meow
Lucy: Meow
Lucy: Meow
Lucy: Meow
Alex: Luce! What's up?
Lucy MEow
Alex: Are you saying "Meow?"
Lucy: meOW
Alex: Why are you saying "Meow"?
Lucy: Meeeeoww

ACT III:
Wonder if perhaps Lucy is trying to say something, since this is usually a soliloquy reserved for times when I'm upstairs and she's downstairs or vice versa. Wonder if I really want to know. Wash another dish.

ACT IV:
Check on Lucy. See nothing wrong. Pet her. Observe something stinky squirt out of her rear and onto the blanket on the chair. Realize it's her freaking ANAL GLANDS. Sigh loudly.

ACT V:
Bring Lucy up to the bathroom. Ignore her screaming. Realize I have no rubber gloves. Decide to go in anyway. Squeeze unthinkable things. Smell unspeakable smells. Bring Lucy down and strip down chair she was in. Throw everything in the laundry.

Start over.


This is why my house will never be clean. One step forward; two steps back.

Tags: house, lucy

Shannon called me yesterday morning, out of breath, to say that Rosie had gotten cast in her stall. She enjoys a good roll in the straw when she comes in, particularly when she's been out in the rain, and this roll somehow misaligned and she got stuck against the wall of her stall, unable to get back on her feet. Shannon said her front legs were against the stall door, so Shannon couldn't open the door. Her hind leg was through the bucket handle and the opening in the bars and she was struggling so hard that she bent one of the bars.

Shannon climbed over the side of Kermit's stall to get into Rosie's stall, where she managed to get ropes around her legs and turn her over onto her other side so she could get up. After Rosie stopped shaking (can you imagine being almost completely blind and having that happen?! My poor Rose!), Shannon walked her around and, although she's scraped up and sore, she didn't seem to have broken anything. There's still a chance she has a hairline fracture. Another horse on the farm had that happen and, the next day, her leg just sort of exploded and she had to be euthanized. So I'm not going to be convinced we're out of the woods yet.

Rosie seems tentative and more spooky than usual. She's not sure the world is as she thought she knew it. Walls appear out of nowhere, there are things that can hurt her. It's been a long time since she seemed afraid of her blindness, but she seems to be now. I think she just needs some time, but it's hard to see her feeling anxious when she's usually so confident.

I took a photo of her yesterday evening. I had to use my cellphone, since some jackass stole my digital camera, but you can see the bent bar and the hoofmarks on her door.

Tags: barn, rosie