More fever, more tremors, more crying and whimpering. Her little body displayed such a severe reaction to those shots each time but i couldn’t get the heartworm preventative medicine unless she had them so again i wrapped her in a jacket, turned on soothing music, and held her in the car seat until it passed. I knew that many human vaccines still contained mercury. I wasn’t sure what was in hers but whatever it was, it sure didn’t like Cashew. My poor wild child.
A Touch of Character
I had been living with the plywood in the windows for so long i had just gotten used to my little house looking like a boarded up abandoned strip mall. When i stood on a chair and slid my sister’s curtains onto each rod the house began to look like a space i would associate with myself. It was very much my style. My sister knew me incredibly well and the curtains were better than i could have ever imagined. They made the tiny house look lived in. It wasn’t an abandoned building anymore. It looked like a little house. I started to realize that this was happening. Piece by piece the place would come together and one day it would be all straightened out, but right at that moment i had curtains and that was an amazing feeling considering it had been a life long dream to own some. I tried to be as productive as an aussie on the weekends because it was my only real time to spend on projects for the homestead. However, there would definitely be a few days when i would keep all the curtains drawn and hide from the world in my bed with a dog face pressed against mine.
A Box from my Sister
I knew my sister was making curtains for the tiny house but she was also planning a pretty monumental life event so i didn’t have any sort of timeline or expectation as to when they would be finished. Truthfully, after the plywood went in the windows i kind of forgot about it. I had always lived in apartments with blinds. I was pretty old school when it came to decorating and it had been a life-long dream of mine to have curtains. I really wanted something beige with flowers. I loved maroon, teal, olive green, and navy blue. I told my sister anything with those colors or one of those colors would be good. She sent me a picture of a fabric she found in a store in her state that she thought i might like. I fell in love with the first fabric she picked for me. She sent other options but i knew right away; the first fabric was the one! She told me she would make them so that i could tie them up or leave them down and i sent her the measurements of the windows. I wanted them short enough so that they wouldn’t hang on the ground, both because of all the dust that settled on the floor during the dry season and because of pet hair. My sister is good at everything i’m not. If you need your roof repaired, i can do that. If you need a railing built on your porch, i can help you with that too. If the tin has come away from the frame of your well house, i can fix that. If you need a tree chopped down, i’ll have it in the firewood pile in no time. However, i would be that person with a laundry line full of shirts with holes mended by crude stitches that resemble a kindergarteners handywork, and they’re all mended with thick black thread…cuz that’s what i had on hand at the time. I can knit in one direction; forwards. I can make a scarf…maybe once every 3 years. If i miss a stitch and need to go backwards a row, i literally mail the thing to my sister, she fixes the row and mails it back. I wouldn’t call myself domestic. My sister though, she used to sew the costumes for ballet austin. She’s a genius when it comes to the sewing machine, so i knew the curtains would be beautiful but i had no idea how exquisite they would turn out. One day i stopped at the post office to get my mail and the clerk told me, “You know you have a box here.” I looked in the mailbox and sure enough, there was a notification card telling me i had a box at the post office counter. I handed him the card and he handed me a medium sized white box with my sister’s handwriting on it. I knew immediately what it was. I was giddy with excitement! I couldn’t even wait until i got to the car. I set the box on the postal counter and cut into it with my box cutter. Inside was golden tissue paper. As i carefully pulled back the decorative paper the curtains were revealed. They were beautiful, and so delicate! I felt like i had ordered something from a sears catalogue back when that was a thing. My sister had kept something from me; a surprise. She had added a maroon ribbon across the top of each curtain to match the ties and she hadn’t said anything, knowing i loved maroon and would probably be thrilled by the extra touch. I was. The maroon ribbon across the top made it! They were so special! I was afraid to unfold them. They were packaged so neatly and folded in such a delicate manner. She had even ironed the fabric. I was speechless. My sister was definitely good at all things domestic. I couldn’t have bought nicer curtains if i had spent a thousand dollars. These i would cherish forever.
At the bottom of the box was a plate that my sister had picked up with me in mind on her last trip. Unlike me, my sister loved to travel. She was not afraid of planes or death or airport security. She learned new languages and jet setted to different countries all the time. She knew i used to collect pretty plates from thrift stores, especially with plants or vines painted or carved in them. So she thought of me when she saw this plate on one of her trips and into the box it went. I put it with my dishes in my extension shed. What a lovely package to receive!
In Pursuit of Sticks
My dogs don’t have squeaky hamburgers or plush squirrels. They don’t wrestle with rope toys or frisbees. They work with what they have, and that is 2 acres of free sticks. The trees drop them all the time, and if they finish chewing the ones that fell down during the last storm they just go drag a couple branches off the brush pile and vwalah! Even though there’s 2 whole acres of sticks…they still only want the one that is in their sister’s mouth.
Daily Chores with a Puppy
Anyone who has spent time around Cashew has heard me say “i’m trying to keep you alive dog” at least a few times before the end of their visit. There is no veterinarian out here. If your dog swallows something poisonous, you go pour a capful of hydrogen peroxide and ready the coconut water to settle their digestive system and protect the lining of their stomach after the vomiting is through. You learn to keep things on hand because the nearest vet is a 35 minute drive and the nearest one with equipment for major procedures is an hour and 5 minutes away. On the weekend, i’d have to drive clear to san antonio to find a clinic with emergency hours. And Cashew… Let’s just say, she doesn’t always eat poisonous mushrooms but when she does, she makes sure it’s a Sunday. Doing chores with Cashew was a bit more involved than when it was just Sili and I. Cashew had to be watched like a hawk, for many reasons. First of all, the hawks had taken note that i’d brought home a small dog. When i let the dogs out to potty sometimes a hawk would appear and perch on one of the dead tree branches and watch her. The first time it happened i didn’t realize the danger. I had seen hawks carry away little song birds at work and the patients would cry and beat on the windows as their lovely songbirds they had fed and watched grow from baby chicks in the nest met their demise in the talons of a rutheless canibalistic precision hunter. I was thinking about the little finches and admiring the feathers on the hawk when i realized what it was looking at. Shit. No no no no! I took off in full sprint across the property in the direction of the chicken run. The hawk launched itself from its perch and flapped its wings. I could hear the noise of each flap of its wings as it soared above me. I was running like i’d never run in my life. My heart was pounding in my throat; a surge of adrenaline flooded my arms and legs until i felt loose and tingly as i ran. The hawk was faster than me. Sili and Cashew were still oblivious. Shit shit shit! I ripped the chain link door open and dove on top of Cashew. The hawk pulled up and circled, perching in a nearby tree. I pressed Cashew’s head to my cheek and tried to slow the beating of my racing heart. I smooshed her against the mulch. Ants were getting into my clothes. I didn’t care. I thought for a hot second that i was going to have to watch this hawk sink its talons into Cashew, hear her cries of agony, and look on helplessly as it lifted her body out of my reach. I carefully tucked her in the folds of my shirt and called Sili as i stood from the mulch and dirt, “Let’s go. We’re going in.” She didn’t come so i whistled. She followed me then and i carried Cashew into the house. A few minutes after i disappeared the hawk took flight and left. He would return many times before Cashew grew too heavy for a hawk to successfully carry off. Each time it circled and each time i covered Cashew as it perched to lie in wait. Hawks were not the only problem i faced trying to keep this puppy alive. Besides the poisonous mushrooms, rocks, discarded beer cans from passing motorists, broken glass, acorns (also poisonous) and bits of plastic Cashew tried to ingest on the regular, there was cactus to worry about. Cashew’s approach to prickly pear cactus was similar to her approach to bull thistles. She cried in pain every time she did it, and yet, she still saw fit to try getting up and pouncing on it with all of her body weight again. I guess they looked enticing. All i knew was that survival instinct was not strong in that one. I was struggling to keep her out of the cactus and burrs while i did the evening chores, but she was at an age now that she wanted to be with us wherever we went and she cried ceaselessly in a mercilessly high-pitched octave if left behind in the house. My coworker suggested i try a baby carrier. She said to strap the puppy to my chest so it could see what was going on but not reach cactus and acorns. It sounded a little out there at first but i was really sleep deprived, void of patience, and desperate. I bought a baby carrier from walmart. I placed Cashew in it. I did the chores. It was the best thing since sliced bread. It got us through that week and a half we had to go until she ended up too heavy to be dinner for the hawks and it gave our ears some peace from her constant shrill ice-pick in the brain noises. So began the week and a half of using the baby carrier during chores.
Puppy Cuddles
Cashew did not start out as an especially cuddly dog. Cashew was the first pure-bred dog i had ever owned. I was used to taking in rescues and strays. They were oh so grateful just to have a human who loved them, a roof over their head, a warm place to sleep, and food in their bowl daily. Every rescue i had was very cuddly and affectionate. I had been warned that aussies had very independent personalities. For the first couple months that i had her, Cashew didn’t want to be held, stroked, or rocked. She wanted to do everything herself and she didn’t go for any of that sissy cuddling crap. It kind of broke my heart. Here i had this animal that i was supposed to love and protect, and every way i knew to bond with her was like fingernails down a chalkboard to the dog. In the past i had tried to adopt a child from a foreign country. I was warned that children who had grown to a certain age without parental guidance, love and protection would learn to fend for themselves. I was warned that once i brought my new child home and installed them into the house, they would not suddenly run to my room for comfort in the middle of a storm, ask my help when they were stumped at how to fasten buttons on their clothing, or sit in my lap during our down-time. I was warned that these children had long ago stopped seeking soothing or comfort from others during times of fear, stress, or uncertainty. They would eat the food cooked for them, wear the clothes purchased for them, and sleep in the dora the explorer or batman bed so lovingly made-up for them. However, one could not expect them to just suddenly understand affection and throw their arms around their new adoptive parent and seek them out when there was lightening in the middle of the night. We were told to be patient. There was no guarantee the child would ever learn what it was to count on another human being and develop a relationship of trust and affection with their new parent or siblings. It was a possibility but it couldn’t be rushed. It was just one of those things you had to try your hardest at, exercise infinite patience, and hope for the best. Cashew reminded me of these children. She was fiercely independent. She didn’t need me for anything. She didn’t seek me when she was scared. In fact, i’d never seen her scared. She came in to eat and sleep. She never licked my hand. She never looked me in the eye. She never laid next to me or allowed me to hold her. Much like those children who had made their start in a concrete institution, Cashew was a beautiful, healthy dog that was not attached to me in any way. I had to make peace with the idea that this might be her personality. She might never come in for a cuddle like my Sili, but she was an excellent guard dog against everything from coyotes to armadillos. She was good at what she was bred to do. I had to give her that. I was impressed with her set of skills even if she had no fondness for me. I couldn’t help but admire her strengths. However, on hard days, when she had pooped, peed, shredded things, and flung all of it across the house in a tornadic motion, when she was standing in the middle of it without a care in the world, it was hard for me. It was harder for me to forgive her trespasses than it was for me to do the same for Sili, for my brain was full of fond memories of tenderness with Sili. She was a cuddler. She looked to me when scared. She tried to hide behind me during storms. She looked into my eyes and formed expressions on her face. I could draw on all these memories when she was being naughty to remind me that i loved Sili. I had to try harder and say it more often with Cashew. I often wondered if i had done the right thing in bringing her to our property and adding her to our little family. However, i had made a commitment when i put her in the car in lockhart, and come what may, no matter what kind of personality she turned out to have, i was her mother. Whether she viewed me as “dispenser of kibble” or “mom”, she was my responsibility and it was my job to rear her up with the same love i extended Sili. It was a delicate balance too. I had to be more strict with Cashew. I couldn’t ever budge from that bottom line because if i gave her an inch she took a mile. Sili was hurt and offended if she felt i was angry with her. To tell her i was disappointed in her behavior was enough to make her avoid her bone and treats for a day. It was not so with Cashew. Cashew had to be disciplined by a more concrete reward and consequence system. My favor was not something she sought or valued in the beginning. She did not care whether i was upset with her. She’d happily chew her bone in time out. She was unashamed. My approach with her had to be completely different from my approach with Sili. If she peed on the pad, she got free time on the land with sili, unsupervised. If she peed adjacent to the pad, she stayed inside with me while Sili had free time outside by herself. If she responded to a command she got a treat, if she didn’t she got nothing. If she waited quietly in a seated position while i prepared her food she got to eat. If she barked, whined, and destroyed the door, i put the food back in the refrigerator and didn’t bring it out again until she was quiet. Originally i knew nothing about dog training. Sili was trained beautifully by one of the best dog trainers i will ever have the privilege of knowing. However, to my horror, she retired. She would not be training Cashew. I wanted the dogs to know the same hand signals, verbal commands, and tricks. I didn’t want to have to give a different command to each dog to get them to do something. I didn’t want one that knew sit and stay while the other had more in their bag of tricks such as “leave it” and “load up”. I searched for weeks for someone that would train Cashew using the retired trainer’s commands and techniques. Each trainer i encountered wanted to do it their way, not emulate a retired trainer’s style. They refused to use the specific commands Sili knew and many told me “it’s impossible to make a dog do specific tasks like that. We can train your dog to sit, stay, come, or lay down. Shake and roll over are options for an extra fee, but we cannot train your dog to jump up on the car seat.” I thought, “it’s not impossible because my older dog does it, daily.” But, they were not interested in hearing what i needed the puppy to know…only making a sale. I was done. Much like the home improvement and repair projects i took over, it would be easier to train her myself than it would be to talk sense into one of the trainers i had spoken to. So i took my former dog trainer’s technique and i used it as best i could. I used Sili as an example. I let Cashew watch Sili respond to my commands. I let Cashew watch Sili get a treat for the desired response to a command. Then i put Sili inside and focused my attention on Cashew. When she did the behavior desired in response to a command a treat was produced and my voice became very high pitched and she was given a bit of praise. If she did not perform the desired task in response to a command i gave her a few seconds, redirected her attention, and tried again. We would work a little each night right before supper. To drill her constantly would make her sick of training, but we worked a little each night. We dipped her toes back into that pool each night before dinner. They say aussies are very easy to train because they’re smart. That’s not entirely true. They are very smart and they will get your meaning right away. It is up to you to convince them that your meaning is something they care about. Cashew would have been very happy steering the ship with Sili and i as passengers. If you want an independent dog to follow you, that’s something you have to work at. It was very hard for me to train Cashew. I felt like i was working with a stranger. Had she been a child it would have been my job to hide that notion from her, so i did my best to keep that feeling to myself. The first thing i noticed was the tail wagging. I gave Cashew a command one evening. She followed it and i praised her. Suddenly her little stump of a tail wagged. It was the first time i had seen her respond to my praise. I asked her to follow another command. She listened attentively, making perfect eye contact, watching me with those bright brown eyes. She followed the command perfectly. With excitement and pride for her efforts in my voice i praised her again and rubbed her back. Her tail wagged faster. I was thrilled to see her respond to anything coming from me in a visible way. Over the next few weeks whenever she had done something i didn’t allow in the household i would lower my voice and give her a serious tone, a stern expression, and a short “no”. If the behavior persisted i would flip her on her back and hold her on the ground to show dominance. When she followed a command or held her potty, or even used the pee pad correctly i made my voice higher, smiled, and said “good job! Good job Cashew!” Each time my voice went high her little stumpy tail wagged a million miles an hour. I was forming a bond with my little stranger. I had to balance training time with cashew, quality time with sili, and together time because sili was getting jealous as i tried desperately to blow on the emerging flames of the little camp fire of trust and attachment i had been trying to build with cashew for so many weeks. As Cashew watched Sili sit in my lap and cuddle up to me, she started trying those things out to see what the fuss was about. She would come over and plop herself in my lap. If i moved or touched her she would take off but if i sat very still she would rest her head against my leg and take a nap. Over time she became more comfortable with me. My fiercely independent little one developed a softer side that few knew about. She was still a bull in a china shop. She was still rowdy, wild, and unapologetic about many things. She was bold, full of energy, and fearless. I called her my tornado of chaos. However, she began to notice me even when i wasn’t speaking. She would look for me in the yard and follow me or walk ahead of me wherever i was going as i went through the chores. Periodically she would check in by circling back and touching my leg with her nose. There would be kinks to work out. There was a period in which she tried to herd me. There was a period of head butting. There was a period of toe biting. Certain behaviors had to be ironed out and worked on. However, the fire was ignited, the seed had sprouted, the bond was there. It didn’t come easy like it did with Sili, but it was there and it was getting stronger by the day. There would come a time where i could lay on the floor and both dogs would run to me and snuggle up against my torso. That is when i knew i had accomplished what i set out to do. Cashew was no longer a good working dog. She was a good working dog and 1 of my 2 furry children.
Horseplay in the Chicken Run
It’s not always about the projects or the chores here on the homestead. Sometimes its about spending quality time with the dogs. I have to remind myself to slow down and pause every once in a while because they don’t live to 100 like we do. I get 15, maybe 20 years with them and that’s it. You have to make time for play because if you say “once i finish this project…” there will always be another project behind it. You have to go outside, throw a stick around, chase some geese or armadillos, and watch the dogs enjoy running free because you may have “later” but they don’t.
The Hill Country Sky
It’s What’s for Supper
Okay, the first picture shown is my peanut butter banana cookie dough vegan smoothie. There are these oat bars. Bob’s red mill makes them. They have a peanut butter, coconut, oat, honey bar that tastes just like a chewy peanut butter cookie; the kind grown ups used to give you for free in the grocery store as a kid so you’d be quiet long enough for your mom to really buy some merchandise. Anyways, i got a hankering for something sweet one weekend and i wanted a vegan cookie dough smoothie. So i put frozen bananas, pacific brand vanilla hemp milk, and organic crunchy peanut butter in a blender. I ran the blender until the mixture was thick and smooth. Then i broke the peanut oat bar into chunks and sprinkled them into the blender. I pushed “pulse” just to stir the pieces in a bit and then i spooned it into a cup. It was to die for. Really hit the spot! The squash, potatoes, and spinach pictured above are grown by local farmers in the area. If you’ve never gone to a farm stand and purchased a giant bag of fresh cut spinach, then gone home, washed the dirt off of it, and wilted it in a skillet with nothing but salt and pepper, you have never lived. It is a flavor that doesn’t resemble frozen or canned spinach at all. It is absolutely scrumptious. I get excited every time i see those big bags of leafy goodness in the market. It might as well be cotton candy to me. The pinto beans are also grown locally by farmers in the area. I bought them fresh, some of them still in the bean pod. I had never had fresh beans right off the plant before. This was a first for me. They were brightly colored robust little pebbles and they smelled kind of like plants. I cooked them in my instant pot in salted water. I never knew beans could be so good. They were fall apart in your mouth soft and they had a savory flavor, a freshness, that i have never associated with beans. I dont know how to describe it. Sometimes when i buy veggies from the farmers instead of the store, they just taste brighter. That’s the best way i know how to explain it. Anyways, i ate those beans on everything from rice to baked potatoes for a whole week. I even made bean salad with avocado and local tomatoes and lemon. If i ever see them at the market again (next year) i’ll get another bag in a heartbeat. The soup might not look like much but it is sweet as candy. It is the japanese sweet potato soup from the casa de luz recipe book. First of all, my mother heard me say i wanted that cookbook but couldn’t see how anyone would pay that much for one little cookbook with such wholesome but simple recipes in it. When my birthday came around, she got that cookbook, wrapped it, and drove it all the way out to the country to give it to me. I couldnt believe she’d paid all that for this book when she’d made much more complex recipes herself. But alas, i loved simplistic, no-fuss recipes, comfort food with little fan fair, and vegan of course. I wanted that recipe book more than i was ready to admit to myself, and my mother somehow recognized this in the few moments i was flipping through the pages, willing myself to leave it behind. In that recipe book is one of my all time favorite foods; japanese yams. You can’t get those in the hill country. So, the very next time i went up to visit my mother, she had a big old grocery bag of japanese yams that she deposited into my car. She might as well have given me gold bars. I took those yams back to the hill country and carefully placed them on the bottom shelf of my pantry cabinet. I had gold in my cabinet! I used some of those japanese yams to make the wonderful soup and i ate the rest plain; standing over the sink, holding the halves of the yams in my hands like a heathen. They were like starchy little pieces of sugar. It was wonderful.
50% Done
My coworker’s husband and father-in-law were electricians. For a more than reasonable fee, they came out to the property and made an outlet for the samsung front-loading washing machine. Then I could plug it in. I thought that would be the end of it. Silly me. First i realized that the tubes were hooked on backwards so i grabbed my tool box and unscrewed all of them. When i had switched them i thought for sure it would run like clockwork. Nobody told me that the drainage tube was on the floor. I figured it out though when i suddenly became wet. Immediately panic set in as i ran around the side of the machine pushing buttons, trying to turn it off before it went any further in the washing process. I grabbed hold of the giant drainage tube and held it towards the ceiling. Gravity stopped the flow of water. Once i had set towels down to soak up the foul smelling water that had spilled i turned back to the tube in my hand. There was no round area on the wall that would fit a tube this size. I scratched my head. There was a little square that looked like a sink basin with an air vent in it. I ran to the outside of the house and tried to see if it led anywhere. It did. It lead to the septic tank but i didn’t know that at the time. With no tunnel leading outside i wasn’t sure where this indoor sink-cubby thing led. Perhaps it was just a shelf and would back up liquid until it poured on the floor again. I couldn’t find anywhere else this tube might fit so i dumped it in there and hoped for the best as i turned the machine on once again. I could clearly hear water draining through the tube but there was none coming out of the cubby. Wherever it led, the water was going there and not inside the house. I watched as the clothes began to spin around behind the front window of the machine. I breathed a sigh of relief. The sink-looking cubby was obviously where the tube was supposed to go. Houston, we have lift off.