It’s only 1 am, so I’m hardly in sleep-deprivation trouble yet. I’ve been to bed once, but can’t quiet my mind, so here I am visiting with you!
Am feeling better again, more like “myself”. While I was so worried about income tax, and having discovered that there is an HST/GST component to the tight spot I’m in, the feeling of depression and angst was crushing. ‘Twas a passing thing. I’m rather optimistic again. Having my ego pinched in Facebook was a trivial thing and my reaction was out of proportion.
Part of getting past the feelings of inferiority and stress and any other negative state is to have some meaningful work. Some factions of society do not consider pet care to be so meaningful; I remember an old neighbour Mona who used to rail away about people who spend money on dogs and cats while there are starving children everywhere. As it turns out, I have a career in pet care that affords me the opportunity to help people and animals in need. I don’t donate as much as I should, but I donate some.
MY version of meaningful work led me to groom these little dogs today. You’ve met Baxter before, and in this picture, I was amused at the way his appealing face seems reflected in the decorative plate behind him:
Charlie and Squeaker visited overnight last night, and I was asked to groom the tiny, elderly shih tzu while he was here:
Yes, this IS his “look” after grooming! He weighs only a little more than my guinea pig, but he has a sweet heart and brave attitude. I’m afraid I can’t find a picture of Squeaker’s sidekick, who is an attractive, gentle border collie.
This is Stella, who stayed for a few days last week. She is a Cane Corso, an Italian Mastiff. Gentle as a lamb, and not as huge as some varieties of mastiff, Stella is a playful pleasure to have around. The photo I took is late at night, and you can see that there is an unusual effect. She’s a lovely animal at any hour.
Winter has arrived in the Robson Valley. It is now well below zero every day, but at least the ground is firm (I don’t like the gloomy days of rain and mud).
I discovered that the “heated” bucket that I’d bought for the chickens is not working, so I went and found a “hog mat” that I’ve had for decades. It seems to work well for keeping the water thawed, just to sit an ice cream pail on the fibreglass mat. The mat is waterproof and virtually chew proof, not that chickens chew, and can sit on the ground in Cluckingham Palace for the entire winter. At least, that’s the plan. So, we have warmish water, a fan to move the air around, and a light on a timer… yet the hens still are “on strike”, aka moulting. We get about one egg per day from six chickens, but hey… they need a rest sometimes too.
Okay, now I think I might be able to sleep. I do love thinking about each of you, with your coffee, perhaps, finding me regularly or occasionally.