Friday, February 27, 2015

Farm Animal Reality

So stop reading if you think this is going to be an article about "How to Pick the Perfect Goat" or
"Winning Ways With Chickens" because that is NOT what this is going to be about (really none of this blog is really good about any of that).

This is about the animals on our farm and their oddities/quirks/all-out-flipping-nasties.  Really, I'm just hoping other people chime in and tell me that their animals are just as gross and messed us and I feel better about myself.

Mmmkay?

Regal, my foot.  Just full of poo.
The dog.  Miniature Schnauzer, three years old.  Yes, I still call him a puppy, but that's because he's still small (he's small because he's not as big as our mastiff).  Eater of all things crap.  No seriously (cuss word coming, close the children's eyes) he's a shitoholic.  The cat box had to be relocated so he couldn't dine on almond rocca.  The chickens are a constant source of crap-fodder.  He especially loves them frozen.  I call them shitcicles.  Lovely, eh?  And those farts clear the room.  As he's sniffing his butt to see if that was him.  Oh, and he likes to lay on his...you know what, with his legs all splayed behind him.

See...on the floor.
The indoor cat.  Picked out by my then-five year old daughter.  Paid for by my husband who then went off on an errand and I had to pick up this butt ugly, flea-ridden kitten with my delighted, chipper kindergartner.  Seriously, this thing was all ears.  She's ten now (the cat, not the kid). Flops down in the middle of the kitchen floor as you are just getting ready to step there.  Cries like her tail is on fire if the food dish is empty.  Master door opener if you don't click the doorknob shut in the bathroom (had a few pissed off guests with that one).  No useful purpose in the house except to get in an argument with the dog.

The Outdoor Cat.  Who used to be an indoor cat.  Who was found in the barn.  Catch that?  I'll catch you up:  Found a kitten in the barn one day (doesn't everyone?).  Brought it in the house because for some reason I needed another cat in the house (this one was at least cute).  She went into heat every six minutes.  AFTER the vet found and removed three ovaries.  I'm sure we made a vet medical journal somewhere and I should be getting royalties.  She then proceeded to piss on every article of clothing we owned.  Especially if you were packing for a trip.  She was relocated back to the barn.

This THING and his brothers turned
into pretty cocketiels.
The Birds.  We - let me wildly rephrase that - My daughter has cockatiels.  It started with one male (doesn't it always?) and she wanted to breed him.  So, she, with her own money, purchased a female.  Who then proceeded to get knocked up.  We had babies.  Three of them, all boys.  One of which decided to eat the hook that holds the bird toy up and get the sucker stuck through his tongue and beak.  We have a fantastic wildlife vet who took him in and brought him back to life. One of the other fellers just loves himself.  No, really, loves himself.  He won't shut up about it either. I actually googled "masturbating cockatiel" and now it is in some search engine in cyberspace FOREVER.

The Other dog.  This one has since passed, but I'll toss her on this list anyway.  Because she wasn't normal either.  Unless, when going for a walk, crapping directly in front of your walking path every single fricking time is normal.  That and humping every single sleeping bag with a child inside during a sleepover.  We don't have many friends.



Not the bull.  I wasn't
going to get that close to
him.



The Bull.  He loves bananas.  I don't know how we know this but he will follow you anywhere if you have a banana.  What he won't abide by is a stick.  If you have anything in your hand that looks like a stick, he will charge, gore and take you apart.  Well, we think he would - we have learned to run really fast.  He is also not fond of the tractor or the Subaru Legacy when he opens the gate to let himself out.  Don't get a stick or the keys; get a banana and he'll follow you back to the pasture.

The Rooster.  Likes the duck.  As in, like-like.  Every single morning.  Not drawing a picture here, people.  He's also the most co-dependent mammal on the property and can't be anywhere you are not.  I'm surprised he sleeps in the coop rather than the house.  Although the duck is in the coop.

So cute.  And so wrong.
The Duck.  See above, because she's not trying to get away, if you know what I mean.

The Other Rooster.  Can't crow worth crap.  Starts out as a snort, ends in a whinny.  I don't know how, but he does.  The day we butchered and put two roosters in the freezer, my husband says, "make sure we get the one who can't crow."  Whoops.

I live in a circus, not on a farm, I swear.  My husband wants to get more animals because, "we live on a farm" (lame-o excuse).  So then what; I get more whack-job animals?  No thank you.  No one believes the ones I have anyway.  And it's hard enough already to get a pet sitter so I can go on vacation!

Now it's your job to make me feel better.  Tell me about your "whack-o" animals.  









8 comments:

  1. I have a piggy girl that would put your Schnauzer to shame in the eating habits department. It is especially gross when she rubs her snout on my pants leg right after a mini meal of you-know-what. Very disgusting. Hope that makes you feel better. :-) Love your blog, BTW!

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  2. My dogs also eat poo. And my animals are weird too. But that's the fun of having a farm!

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  3. Bwaa haa haaa I know all to well about being a home for "odd" critters. Oh the stories I could tell! Thanks so much for sharing on the (mis)Adventures Mondays Blog Hop.

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  4. And I forgot to mention, he will beg for lettuce!

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  5. ha ha, this was like my house growing up! Ah, good memories :-)
    Hope to see you again on the Homestead blog hop tomorrow.

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  6. At least you got to "out grow" it! My Teenager just added to the party by getting two goslings! Grrrr.

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  7. I'm glad I could be helpful (and I use the term 'helpful' loosely).

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