I take all kinds of photos, but now and then, one stands out and says a lot about our life at the farm. The photo is a love photo that captures the bond and connection between humans and animals.
Bud was born and raised in an animal Hell. His allegedly human owner left him and several other small dogs in a kennel without shade or protection from snow, rain, or cold. For Boston Terriers, with their thin skin and compressed noses, that is torture. Zip cot seriously ill, and one by one, the other dogs in his kennel – all smaller dogs – died of exposure and starvation.
A neighbor called a rescue group that purchased Bud for $150. He was near death, suffering from starvation, and heartworm was very near death. He spent a year getting medical treatment from a local veterinarian who saved his life and brought him slowly back to life.
Our first Boston Terrier, Gus, had just died of a stomach disease, and we saw But on a rescue group adoption page. We wanted him right away. It took several months and more than$1,000 to pay for his medication and transport him to Vermont, where we picked him up.
He was a strange dog, different from the entitled animal characters living on the farm. He was terrified, shaking whenever I got close or when he saw a man. He was not housebroken or used to the cold of upstate New York.
He is a strong son, and subzero weather is dangerous to him. He can only go outside to urinate or defecate.
Bud’s training took several years. He responded well. He is a great dog, a ferocious hunter of rats, mice, moles, and chipmunks, few of which he has ever caught.
He loves the workers who come to the farm, and he loves me now, as he knows Maria, and I love him dearly. He is quite a character.
We can’t let him loose in our woods as many predators on his side would enjoy him for lunch or dinner.
Bud is happy, busy, much love, and fearless. We love him very much, and he ends up on one of our laps every night. It’s warm.
It’s a joy to help a dog or any animal come back from the nearly dead. For Bud, it is bliss.
“We are stocked on fruit!” texted Sarah at 5 a.m. (we talk at that time every morning). She was relieved and very pleased. She said the Army of Good “went crazy” on canned juices, and she even has enough canned juice to stock for another week.
We can’t thank you enough. The pantry bank deliveries are getting unpredictable; we hope it’s temporary.
I see Sarah focusing on breakfast foods and filling soup meals that can last a long time (there aren’t large refrigerators in this community) and be served quickly. Many of the people who use the pantry have two or even three jobs trying to stay even. So far, it’s a losing battle, perhaps getting worse.
You have been a great blessing to the pantry; I am told this daily. It’s the truth.
(Sarah has worked on the main food room, so it will look more like a supermarket and less like a dingy cellar. There will be brighter lights and painted walls.)
The Amazon Cambridge Pantry Urgent Wish List is accessible anytime, day or night. Click on the links here or use the green button at the bottom of every blog post. Every item on the wish list is urgent and updated several times daily. Some people are adopting favored items and sending them when they can. Thanks for the messages; the pantry volunteers greatly appreciate them. Thanks for sending the canned fruit; it is a true lifesaver.
The pantry is almost always behind, and the number of people coming is growing. It’s a merry-go-round; sometimes, the shelves are full, but not for long. This is the juice shelf.
Maria and I talk a lot about creativity, especially as it has shaped our lives, helped us be healthy, and guided us to our bliss. Our creativity was born out of our childhood, as most creativity is. Come and see us talking openly about our lives together; it’s a pretty good story if I say so myself.
Yesterday, Maria’s extraordinary empathy and connection with the animals on our farm—especially lately, the White Hen—were again powerfully displayed. She is nearing the end of her life and living comfortably in the Chicken Hospice Stall of our barn, where she is slowly but surely approaching death. It seems she’s not ready to go, and we will once again let nature take its course.
The White Hen showed us she wants to live. Maria brought her more life once again. You can see the video below and read her account of how she saved the White Hen once more on her blog.
Maria and I both love our animals, but we are very conscious of putting boundaries around that love.
Any honest vet will tell you that the worst part of their practices is dealing with dog and cat lovers who can’t let go and spend thousands of dollars, enormous time, and emotional energy on keeping their animals alive far beyond their natural life or their ability to live naturally and normally.
They hate to see animals suffer.
Maria and I both have strong feelings about what I see too often: the selfishness of people who say they love their animals but who increasingly subject them to years of pain and bewilderment due to the intense and expensive surgeries people subject them to.
Since dogs can’t give permission, we must act and think. They often undergo extreme pain without their consent or understanding.
Pets, like people, can be kept alive for years on machines and medicine. Most of us know this is cruel. Many people feel it represents love, and the surgical vets are now wealthy.
While humans are getting less health care, pets are getting more at a soaring cost. This makes me quiver to think about it.
Many animal lovers tell me surgery for their pets is kindness; I believe it’s the new form of socially acceptable animal abuse. I’m in the minority; I speak only for myself.
(Americans now spend significantly on pet surgery, with costs varying widely depending on the procedure, pet size, and location. For example, ACL repair in dogs can range from $4,000 to $6,000, while foreign body removal can cost $3,000 to $7,000. The average annual spending on pet care, including vet visits and surgery, can range from $700 to $1,500 per dog and $379 for a cat. )
My goal for all the animals here, and one of my primary obligations, is to keep them from the suffering elderly Americans are subject to every day and everywhere (except Hospice); sadly, there is very little hospice for our animals, who suffer.
Animal lovers often see this as a sign of their love and commitment. I see it as a cruel and unthinking loss of perspective. That’s not what animals are about for me.
Here’s how the White Hen was saved again.
Maria and I noticed that the White Hen had stopped eating two days ago. I made plans to put her down, something I often did but am increasingly uncomfortable doing. I feel the same way about putting dogs and cats into crates for years or for all of their life. Nothing could be more cruel for me.
I will kill an animal I believe is suffering greatly; I won’t keep it alive because of my selfish interest. The White Hen was deteriorating. We thought it was over.
While I thought about how I would kill the White Hen—I don’t need a rifle for that—Maria went to work and researched why an old hen might stop eating.
What she discovered—she accounts the story here on her blog —was that old hens often get cracks in their beaks, which grow weaker with age. When that happens, eating is too painful.
Usually, when hens stop eating, they soon die. That was what it looked like. But Maria, the most empathetic person I have ever known, dug deeper.
What, she wondered, if she poots the white hen’s feed in the water, a kind of mush. The White Hen sprang to life and began eating enthusiastically. She returned to life and ate everything Maria put in front of her. She looks healthy and alert once more. Maria took a video of this this morning.
The White Hen is special to us.
She gave us eggs for a decade and gave me lots of good photos. Photographers often attach to the people or creatures (or buildings) they photograph.
But she is still willing to live a natural life. Good for Maria. She is helping me learn what true empathy is, not to mention her mushrooming gifts as an artist. What a pleasure it is to love her.
