Privileged

     "It's for you."  Molly handed me the phone.  It was one of our long time cattle clients calling to RSVP for the retirement party we were throwing for our manager, Marci, at the veterinary hospital that Sunday.  Now, why couldn't she just RSVP with Molly?   Obviously, it's because I get her good semen.  I have the magic touch when it comes to ejaculating her bulls into producing a semen sample that has exquisite daddy making qualities (you can read more about my ejaculating expertise in It's As Bad As It Sounds Job).  Naturally, she could not just  RSVP to anyone else at the office.
   She told me that her and her husband planned on attending the party on Sunday.  She then wanted to know if I would prefer if they drove to the party in their Model A pickup truck. They could park it in front of the office for people to admire.  I told her that I thought it was a lovely idea.  She said that if we had a goat around we could put it in the back of the pickup truck.  I asked her if she thought that would be a good idea considering that every time a goat inhales it poops and every time it exhales it poops.  It would make quite a mess back there.  She said that she wasn't worried about it making a mess.  In fact, she said, it would be okay if  even I wanted to climb back there to hang out.  I think I said something like... "Great, I'll think about it and see you on Sunday" sort of thing and hung up. 
     I know I can make bulls moo out my name and they probably have my phone number with "Call for a good time." carved on their corral fence boards...but... Does that make me a step below goats pooping in the back of antique pickup truck?  Why was I having trouble understanding the beauty of this privilege they had granted me?  All I know is that, I made sure that there wasn't a freaking goat in sight on the day of the party. 

This is me as a baby driving home from my Christening with my goat. 

 Thanks for reading!  Please feel free to pass this story on to your friends, publishers, editors and so forth.  If you would like to be added to my mailing list or would like to leave a comment please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@aol.com.

Copyright (c) 2013 www.Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com June 26, 2013

Stepping Off the Stool

     Autumn let out a big sigh when I pulled up to the barn before 5am on Sunday morning.  When I show up at that time it only means one thing...I'm about to get all  Toddler in Tiaras on her.  We were entered in the local horse show at the fairgrounds and were competing in the halter classes (you don't ride in halter classes you just stand next to them and walk and trot them past the judge).  We had the first class that started at 8:30.  I took out the list I had made the previous week, listing out the specific order in which I was to accomplish each task to get ready in time for the big day.  I started from the top and worked my way down, careful not to stray from it's order.  I didn't want to make any mistakes and have to face myself.  I can be a real hard ass and I didn't want to deal with my attitude.  
   I braided Autumn's forelock (bangs) as she ate with her head buried in her grain bucket.  While she ate her hay I brushed her down and polished her up.  I then moved onto braiding her tail which came out sort of crappy but I was already done with my tea and I needed to conserve what caffeine was left pumping through my veins for her mane. 
    I waited for her to finish eating the last straws of hay before I took her out of her stall.  I put her on the cross ties in the aisle as I set out braiding ribbons, combs and the step stool.  I started the braid close to her ears.  She held her head high so I was on the top step of the stool.  Autumn's patience held out for about 30 seconds before she started pawing and kicking the ladder out from underneath me.  Let me translate some Autumn body language for you...pawing the ground is Autumn for, "I want more hay", and trying to kick a stool out from under you, is Autumn for  "NOW!!!".  I pushed against her to shift her weight to stand on the foot she was snapping out with.  That worked twice and then she caught on that she's 2000 pounds and can easily ignore that.  As she continued to paw I continued to tell her to stop as I nudged her with my knee.  My caffeine had just tapped out as I was doing my cirque du soleil braiding job on my battered step ladder when she gave the stool the whap that broke the camel's back.  I got off the stool and stepped down from all that natural, horsey Buddhism, liberty, meditative, spiritual union, non confrontational, be calm and never get emotional at your horse, horsemanship crap I had been reading over the last few years.  I let her have the after-all-I-do-for-you spoiled brat speech.  Her eyes grew wide and her ears were pointed stiff at me as I stomped and hissy fitted around the stables.
    I ended my explosion with a relieved deep breath.  I pushed my hair back, climbed back on to my step stool and finished braiding her mane as she stood perfect statue still.  When I got off the stool she looked at me with her soft brown sparkly eyes.  I hugged her and told her I loved her. 


Two goofball friends

     At the  horse show Autumn worked her magic on the runway.  We came home with a couple of first and second place ribbons.  We both ended up having a great time and looked marvelous doing it!





Autumn... America's Next Top Model



   Thanks for reading! Please send this on to your friends, especially if they are publishers, if you enjoy my stories.  If you would like to leave a comment or would like to be added to our mailing list please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@aol.com. 

Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com  June 19, 2013

Did I Forget To Wake Up?

 

     I was supposed to meet with Cindy after work to go over the in's and out's of pet sitting for her over the weekend.  At ten minutes to five I received an emergency call at the veterinary office that we had our second goat C-section coming in.  It was going to be a late night.  After I hung up with the client I called Cindy and  told her that I wasn't going to make it that night.  We decided to meet at 6am the next morning, right before she was set to leave...(side note...the C-section went real well.  We were able to save the momma goat and one of her adorable buckling goat kids).
     My husband, Casey, joined me, at 6am to go over to Cindy's place.  Cindy took us around and showed us what dogs and cats got raw food, which ones got dry, which one ate where...
    Then Cindy took us around to the back of the house and that's when we met...Skittles the goat.  Cindy opened the gate to the pen and Skittles came out struttin' all gangsta style.  He wore a neck chain with a blinged out copper bell swinging low.  As Skittles swaggered past us he dropped out some serious hip hop beats from his bell.  Running behind Skittles was his one goat entourage, Mikey.  Mikey, super cute and floppy eared, traipsed behind the master blaster as Cindy set out their hay.  Skittles walked over to the fresh hay pile and pooped all over it, making it clear that this was his hood.  This was one bad ass goat. 
     Cindy walked us to the car and I hugged her goodbye. As we turned to get in the car Skittles was in the front seat.  I am pretty sure he was trying to hot wire the car. 

Just keep hugging goodbye ladies.  In ten more seconds  Mikey and I will be cruising the block for some hot nanny goats.



  

     After, dragging P-Goatee out of the car, Casey and I decided to head into town to grab a little breakfast before work.  It was about 7am when we got into town.  I parked the car and coming down the street toward us were two hippies.  These weren't just any old hippies.  One hippie wore a green mad-hatter top hat with dreadlocks snaking out from underneath it and they both happened to be leading yaks.  Now the top hat, the yaks...okay sure but...  blasting out of the mad-hatter's boom box slung over his shoulder was the Billy Idol song "White Wedding".

The Yak pack.

    I stood there and wondered if this was really happening or if I had hit snooze button too many times and I was having one of those oversleeping I'm late dreams. When I wasn't able to wake myself up I remembered that I live in Humboldt county and this really isn't weird.  We got breakfast and decided it was a good thing we caught Skittles before he jacked the Honda.  It could've gotten all West Side Story up in here with the Yaks throwing up a turf war with the Goats. 

 Here's a refresher on White Wedding.  Maybe it is a good day to start again.

 Thanks for reading!  Please feel free to send this on to your friends.  If you would like to be added to my mailing list or would like to leave a comment please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@aol.com.

Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com June 12, 2013





Shop Talk

     Shop talk.  Every job has its jargon.  At my job, its not uncommon for me to send the veterinarian out  to Bang a bunch of heifers.  Hold on.  Hold on.  Before your mind starts painting you an image that will make you stop reading right here, let me define what Banging a bunch of heifers means.   "Bangs" is office slang for vaccinating heifer calves, between four and twelve months of age, against Brucellosis (this is an infection in cattle which can cause a decrease in milk production, abortions, weight loss, loss of young, infertility, lameness and it is transmissible to humans).
     Last week, I got a good lesson in shop talk by one of our Portuguese dairy farmers (the same gentleman from A Thorough Gentleman).  He stopped in to pick up some medication and I asked him if he had been able to see his brand new baby grandson much.   He said that he is so busy at the dairy that he has not had any time visit his grandson.  He told me that he had asked his daughter to stop by the dairy so he could get to see him. She told him that she had to breast feed the baby and every few hours and was a bit shy about doing it around anyone. 
    I told him that it probably wouldn't make him uncomfortable being that all he does all day long and everyday of his life is milk cows and goats.  He got all excited and yelled "That's right! I see tits all day long!" 
     Okay, now hold on again.  Let me explain before your mind paints a picture that is going to make you stop reading right now and think badly about the farmer.  Tits is dairymen shop talk for teats, the things hanging off an udder where the milk comes out. 

Put a bra on those things!

     Although it's a rough sounding word (not one of my personal favorite terms to describe what my bra holds up) to him it simply means teats on a cow that just mean work for him.  Anyhow, as he is in the office yelling,"I see tits all day long! Cow tits! Goat tits!  There are tits everywhere!  All I do is milk tits! I could care less if..." in walks one of our young, female, conservative beef rancher clients...right into the middle of his tit epiphany.  The dairyman hardly noticed her until he saw me look over at her then back to him.  When he saw her standing there looking at him with her jaw dropped to the floor he all of a sudden froze like a deer in headlights.  He gave me a terrified look, grabbed the medicine off the counter and blew out the door. 

     What have you learned from this story?  I don't know. But if you come into the office and you hear us talking about having to yank on some tits and bang a bunch of heifers... you now know that we simply have to milk some cows and vaccinate some calves for brucellosis to provide the world with safe and well managed dairy products. 

"Is the vet coming to bang you today?" the black and white cow asked the brown and white heifer.

"Yes, after I'm done yanking on your tits."

Translation...

"Is the vet coming to vaccinate you for Brucellosis today?" the black and white cow asked the brown and white heifer.

"Yes, after I'm done milking you."

 

 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com June 5, 2013