Abby-don't miss it!

Do you ever wonder why I call my blog the Island of Misfit Animals? I am the dumping ground for animals that couldn't make the grade with their other families. Of all my misfits, Abby has the most unusual story...


Once upon a time, there was a cute little dog who needed a good home. She lived with a very lovely Family of royal name (Prince) but alas, she tinkled everywhere and caused much dismay. The royal family tried and tried, but the cute little puppy would not change her incontinent ways. With many tears and heartrending cries, the royal family shipped the puppy under guardian of a certain king and queen to the Head of the Family Stables, Kennels and Falconry (or chicanery). The morning after the puppy's arrival to the new environs, the Head of the Family Stables, Kennels and Falconry (or chicanery) (henceforth referred to as the the HFSKFC) noted a large fixed and rigid mass protruding from the said puppy's abdomen. The HFSKFC's eyes widened, her heart palpitated with much rapidity, and she hastened the sweet princess pup to the royal Vet.
A long ride and a longer wait finally found them in the Vet's office, awaiting diagnosis of the mysterious lump that felt like it accounted for half the weight of the little dog. The vet casually entered the examination room, ready for another routine visit, but he was shaken out of his normal routine when he examined the little dog, feeling the size and mass of the lump the protruded so obscenely. His eyes widened as he let his fingers gingerly press around the edges of the great bump. "You just can't have normal, can you?" He questioned the HFSKFC, a reference to other misfit experiences of late. He prescribed treatment, hoping it was a blockage, and not the tumor that it felt like, with instructions to bring her back after several days of treatment with laxative type qualities. But no amount of time would make a difference in this case. At the end of the week, the pup was again in the vet's office, where he eyed her with bewilderment, trying to puzzle it out. At last, he made the pronouncement that nothing short of surgery would solve the mystery. She would be scheduled for the following Monday, but first he would x-ray her, hoping that would shed some light. This is what he saw...

Upon showing her these radiographs, he asked if the HFSKFC knitted much. The stunned response was no, but maybe the royal family did!


The royal family was consulted and it was determined that perhaps the puppy had consumed large amounts of vegetable-dyed yarn right before leaving home. This was the only plausible answer any could come up with. But the day of surgery revealed something much more disturbing.






























Apparently, the young Abigail Charlotte, also known as Abby, had consumed 121 hair bands, two shoelaces, several ear plugs, and other bits of unidentifiable plastic. The royal family stopped wondering why they had never been able to find hair bands, the vet was amazed that the young dog had such an astonishing constitution, the HFSKFC breathed a sigh of relief that her latest misfit aquisition would live to get into other mischief, and Abby settled in to her new home, perfectly content to resume her responsibilities of tinkling away.

Riding "O"

Whoa Nelly! Or Orlando! I never posted any pictures of my first experiences on O.












I promise I'm not that heavy, just hold still!!!

Easy, don't fall over...

And, woo-lah! (My daughter once shouted woolah, she meant voila, I'm sure you see why I use it, it is terribly charming.) Here we are! Now we get to start the whole process over again, it has been nearly a year since I really rode the poor fellow. Maybe his back is stronger. We worked on forward, reverse and whoa. He has a very good grasp on reverse.

Happy Birthday to ME!

My birthday is next week and I couldn't wait, I found this little guy and gave him to myself for my birthday. He is a 5 month old australian shepherd, perfect for a girl who has saddled herself with livestock and poultry.

Circus Chicken

All the chicks and ducks are now at the barn where they belong, but I miss having them where I can check on them frequently. One day my daughters asked if I would like to see Circus Chicken. Upon inquiry, I was informed that Circus Chicken is when you take a chick and put it on top of the waterer and and after fluttering helplessly, the chick jumps off. Kind of reminds me of cow tipping. Good times.

Yay Chickens!

Here they are, 28 chicks, 26 of them are bantam Cochins, 1 is a standard Buff Orpington-we call her Barbra Jean, and 1 is an exotic surprise chick that the hatchery sent us-we think he is a Phoenix chicken and we call him Brock (picured in the middle photo on the left, he has the brown stripe down his head). They are just over a week old in these photos and they have been so fun! This is their first time outside in grass, the rest of the time they are in large clear plastic containers with heat lamps in my house. I am looking forward to when they are moved out to the barn, but it has been a fun experience!

Too Long

It has been too long since I've posted, but I've decided it is time to post again. Unfortunately, since our other computer "caught" a virus, I don't have access to all of our digital photos, which is sad, I have some great stories to share. It will just have to wait a couple more weeks until we get our computer back. Until then, I have new stories to share. COMING UP-photos of the most adorable chicks ever! Yes, I hear voices in my head, they sing old macjocelyn had a farm...

Riding Orlando

I have done something today that I've never done before and that no one else in the whole world has done. I sat on my nearly three year old gelding, Orlando. This is such an amazing thing to me, that I am foregoing the pleasure of going to bed, so that I can mark the occasion on my blog. I've owned Orlando's mother, Sundance, featured in all her hair, since July 2004. Shortly after purchasing her, I was struck by the suspicion that she was pregnant. A quick trip to the vet's office confirmed that there was a horse the size of a football inside her. When I asked the vet if it was a boy or girl, he said yes. It had been a long journey, waiting for that baby, and the nights I wandered back to the barn to see if the colt had been born yet were momentous (I could have walked in on a horse theft, but Bob beat me to it, ask me about that story!) and very drawn out. We started waiting in March, and waited and waited and waited. Then, over Memorial Day weekend, I put in much hard manual labor at the barn and gratefully drove home, aching and hot. The next morning, I was awakened by a phone call from Bob, my friend at the barn, asking me if I'd like to see my new cremello filly! Sundance was very tricky and waited until I was too exhausted to be vigilant. And it wasn't a filly, but a colt, thank heavens, I have too many mares. So here it is, nearly three years from that day and I put a saddle on my colt, and after a time in the arena, I laid over his back. He was far more concerned with the other horses in the arena, so I retired to one of our runs and again laid myself over his back. Because that was so uninteresting to him, (not me, I assure you) I impulsively decided to put my leg all the way over and actually sit astride. I did that several times and even urged him to take a few steps. So there you have it, no one else in the whole wide world has sat on my colt, except for me, no one else has ever trained him, just me. And he hardly blinked an eye.