Critter Day

A mouse came and sat in the shadows as I milked.  It didn't move when the goats were switched out, so I picked it up and took a closer look.  Aw, the poor creature had died right there.  Then, in my hand, one eye squinted slightly in the sunlight.  I wasn't about to give mouth-to-muzzle, but did begin one-finger chest compressions and soon its little legs started twitching.  I was hopeful, but had a goat on the stand and had to leave the tiny one on its own.  It didn't make it, but I tried.

It was the day for Bessie Anne's yearly well-baby checkup, physical, and immunizations.  Turning out of the driveway on our way to town, a turkey hen stood in the middle of the dirt road.  As usual, I'd cut the timing pretty close and was a bit irritated at this feathered roadblock.  At a full stop, Bess and I waited for her to move.  Suddenly out of the underbrush came a baby turkey (turklet?), followed by five more.  When the crossing guard had all six chicks safely on the other side, she gave us a last glance and followed them.

Going to the doctor is not Bessie's favorite thing to do.  The first thing she does once inside is head under a chair, trying to keep as low a profile as possible.  Dr. Ric and his techs are very kind, but she knows she's not there to make friends.  Bess got her shots and a pedicure and a clean bill of health.  However, Dr. Ric noted that she had put on a few pounds over the winter; he even used the offensive "O" word (obese), followed by the dreaded "D" word (diet).  On the way home, I told Bess I'd give her a summer haircut and that should drop a pound or two right off the bat.

I mentioned to Dr. Ric about the morning's episode of giving CPR to a mouse.  He told me he'd done the same thing with a squirrel, going so far as to try to breathe life back to the tiny thing.  No wonder he's my favorite vet.

Bess had been such a good girl that she got a treat when we got home.  The "T" word (tomorrow) is soon enough to start a "D."