Changes in Our Animal Family

There have been some changes around here, both sad and happy, in our family of animals.  Let’s get the sad stuff out of the way first, shall we?

I haven’t wanted to say anything about this, since I’d like this space to be a cheery place to visit, but it has to be said.  Our spirited calico Soop disappeared a few months ago, and we have to assume that she fell prey to a coyote or a cougar or perhaps an owl.  I spent days looking and calling for her, because I’ve had the experience in the past of cats who, hurt or sick, hide themselves away.  In the past, a cat in such a state has crept out of hiding in response to my voice.  It didn’t happen that way this time.  

I’m sad, of course I am, but I’m philosophical too.  Soop was thirteen years old.  She had a superb life.  She was an in-and-out cat in the country, close to a forest, so she took her chances every time she went outside.  She was a pretty canny beast, alert and aware of potential dangers when she was outside, but even the canniest of creatures can’t see everything coming.  

Soop was also the cause of a lot of lost sleep, not because of my worries about her but because, unless it was the depths of winter, she liked to go out during the night.  And come in.  And go out.  And come in.  To signal her middle-of-the-night desires to go outside, she’d use the bedpost as a scratching post.  To announce her desire to come back in, she’d leap up the screen on the bedroom window and hang there for a few seconds, until she saw me get up out of bed.  Hissing at her, spraying her with a spray bottle, nothing worked to deter her.  As my dear husband wearily told someone who was staying here while we were gone, there was no point in trying to ignore or deter her because she’d keep at it until her demands were met.

On the plus side, other than Madeline (Winston’s mother), Soop had perhaps the best-developed personality, and certainly the best sense of humour, of any cat we’ve ever had.  She was a constant source of amusement, particularly to my dh, with whom she had a complicated and very affectionate relationship.  I liked the way that when she wanted me to pick her up, she’d sit in front of me and then stretch way, way up to put her paws as high as possible on my leg, and stare up at me till I hoisted her into my arms.  She liked dh, on the other hand, to hoist her into his arms by her tail.  Don’t try this at home, folks:  this behaviour developed over several years and isn’t every cat’s idea of a good time.  Dh would let her down the same way, by her tail.  She’d walk away, then come back a few seconds later for another round of tail-hoists.  Soop was also a very chatty girl and had a wide range of verbal expressions.  We were sure she was saying thank you if we opened the door for her reasonably quickly, and equally sure that she was swearing at us if we took too long to let her in on a cold night.  She was also a completely useless mouser.  Mice were occasionally toys, in her view, but never prey.  

But she was great company, both in the house and in my studio, and I miss her.  We both do.  And of course, she graced these blog posts many times, inserting herself often into the shot.  Such a help.

Goodbye, Soop, and thanks for many years of keeping me warm, and vice versa, with your winter lap-sitting.  And for the loving head-butts to my chin.  And for making me laugh.  

As we say farewell to one non-human family member, we have acquired a new one.

As you know if you visit here regularly, Ivy and Oscar have been dh’s working team for several years.  But they’re getting up there in years:  Ivy is 21 now, and Oscar 23.  Ivy is still hearty and sound, willing to be harnessed and put to work, whether it’s harrowing a field or pulling a wagon-full of audience members at the winter show at Caravan Farm Theatre.  But last winter, my dh noticed that Oscar didn’t seem to be enjoying himself during the theatre gig:  he seemed to find the physical work just a little too demanding.  So the stint of pulling the manure spreader that I showed you in a post a few months ago was Oscar’s last working afternoon, and from now on our beautiful bay gelding will enjoy a much-deserved retirement.  

The next question was whether dh was going to declare his own retirement from working with horses or try to find another horse to team with Ivy.  Through a serendipitous confluence of events, a fellow teamster from Caravan happened to call the night before dh was about to leave for the big horse sale in Olds, Alberta in the spring, looking to buy a replacement for Oscar.  Dugan had a Percheron gelding he thought my dh would like to have, a good match physically for Ivy.  Well, dh knew the horse, who’d been at Caravan the year before, and right then they clinched the deal.

Say hello to Frank.

Unfortunately, the only photos I have of him so far show him in harness, and what with the halter, the bridle, and the blinders, it’s hard to see much of his face.  Take my word for it:  no one would call him a handsome beast.  Homely, that’s Frank.  When Frank comes home from summer pasture with the rest of the herd, I’ll take a few photos of him for you.

I took these photos a few days after Frank came to live with us.  He had a few days to get used to Ivy, and vice versa, in the corral, and then dh decided to see how they’d work as a team.  (Ivy initially refused to have anything to do with him, but Frank was patient and didn’t press the issue, and she came around pretty quickly.  I think he made it plain that he had no interest in throwing his weight around.)  Harrowing the field is a spring chore that’s a good choice for a new or untested horse, because the weight of the harrows means that if things go sideways, nothing is going to happen very fast.  So that was their first task as a team:  harrowing the field.  Frank is on the left.

And Frank proved to be a dream work horse.  Well-trained, intelligent, willing, wanting only to know what was expected of him so he could do it to the best of his ability.  

And what a stunning match for Ivy!  As you can see, they’re the same colouring, very nearly the same height, and almost the same depth.  Ivy is undoubtedly the rounder of the two, but they seem to be well matched for strength.  Here are a few beauty shots of the harrowing afternoon.

See Django lying in the shade beside Ivy?  He’s a smart boy, and it was a hot day.

It just takes my breath away, looking at these photos again.  What a beautiful team.  To say that dh is tickled is to understate the case.

Comments

[Mahina Rose]

Well, your psychic blog arrived just hours before this blog. I was thinking of you two today. Beautiful team!!! I got the word from Barb that if she can be Rod's shotgun, she's in. It's shaping up to be a great winter already. Sorry to hear about Soop. Sounds like she was a dear friend. xo Mahina

[Anne at Shintangle Studio]

Thanks for the comment, Mahina! Rod says that would be great, having Barb ride shotgun for him again, but it's probably Estelle's call. Yes, Soop was, as you say, a dear friend. We have put a claim in for a couple of kittens from a litter born to Rachel's neighbours: haven't seen them yet, but I know there are no calicoes in the bunch, alas.