In Memory of our Butter Kitty

I'm so behind on these posts, but some are just hard to write.  Pets become so much a part of our lives.  This is the story of Butter, our cat.

Ellie and I were playing on her swing-set in August of 2001, when the neighbor ladies from either side of our house were visiting with each other.  The neighbor lady to the south of us told us (well, probably really me, because Ellie was not quite a year old yet) that two kittens had been abandoned at the tennis courts in town, and she thought they were de-clawed.  Being de-clawed did not thrill me, and thankfully, they were not de-clawed.  I didn't want to have a cat indoors, and really couldn't, because Thomas is allergic (turns out, I am the only one in the family that is not allergic).  The lady to the north of us pointed out that we were the only family in the neighborhood that did not have cats.  That really didn't bother me with a toddler to take care of, and a part-time job, and a husband, and a dog that was just barely a year old.  I grew up having a cat, from age 5 to age 21, so the thought was tempting.  The neighbors urged me on, and Thomas was at the tennis courts playing tennis.  So, Ellie and I loaded up to go see kittens.

The kittens were friendly and playful.  The orange one looked just like my cat, Muffin, when he was a kitten.  Oh, I wanted to take him home and love him.  Thomas was fine with that, as long as we took both kittens.  That surprised me!  I really thought he would say "no, cats".  What he said was, "We can take both home, or neither one home."  Well, I couldn't leave that little orange ball of sweetness.  Ellie thought they were wonderful, too.  Thomas said something about the white and gray one, I thought he said he was going to call it Spider.  I completely heard him wrong, but the name stuck.  I named the orange one Butter.  

Ellie learned how to pet them the right direction, and be gentle with them.  She was so young, I know she doesn't remember being taught, but she learned well.  The kittens never scratched her, or got upset with her.

This picture is of the kittens in our garage, shortly after we brought them home, with a makeshift litter box (cardboard box and oil dry), and I don't know where we got the wet cat food and plastic bowl.  The kittens later had their own food bowls, a real litter box, and dry kitten chow.

August 13, 2001

Having kittens and a toddler (baby, really still) was challenging.  I really had no idea how to have outdoor kitties and make them realize where their home was.  We kept them in the garage for a bit, in our white shed for a short time, but mostly they were outside.  Our dog, at first, thought they were something to destroy.  We found her shaking them.  She would chase them up a tree.  We were forever running outside to rescue them from our own dog!

They also roamed to the neighbors.  The same ones who told us we needed cats apparently had many visits from our kitties.  We didn't find out until years later, but the neighbors to the north of us had a cat door, and our cats liked to use the door and follow their cats in the house.  I would not have a cat door, living out in the country like we do.  I would be afraid of what might walk in someday... like a skunk, or something!  The neighbor to the south of us said her husband would always chase them off.  She didn't mind them hanging in the yard, or garage with their cat, but I was glad her husband chased them off.  Seriously!  Send them home, or let us know to come and get them.

A couple of our neighbors admired Spider.  She was super friendly, cuddly, and you can see her long hair.  She had bright blue eyes.  She was gorgeous!  One day she never came home.  I have a strong feeling she became a house cat.  We took the cats to the vet and had them fixed and given their shots.

Ellie, just over a year and a half old, with Butter.  June 28, 2002

So, we still had a Butter kitty.  He was friendly, but mostly liked to sit in Thomas's lap (the one who is allergic).  He was a great mouser!  And we needed one of those.  I can't stand mice.  They creep me out.  And out here in the country, there are plenty of mice, looking for a meal and a bed.  Butter loved to leave us presents of his kills on the deck, in the garage, on the porch... oh, how he loved us.

Once, Wyatt accidentally shut the cat's tail in my car door. The cat was on the roof of the car, and Wyatt didn't know his tail was in the door.  The cat clawed Wyatt's head, because he was trying to grab onto something... he was hanging by his tail.  Butter was fine, his tail was fine.  Wyatt was scared, and I was worried about what might be on the cat's claws that dug into the skin on Wyatt's head.  Wyatt turned out to be fine, too.

Eventually, the neighbors told us about our cat coming in their house.  The husband said our cat was feral , because he fought with their cats.  The wife said that the cat wants to be a house cat, because they would come home and find him curled up on one of their beds.  Butter was obviously not feral, he was super friendly to people (he even put up with little children petting him when he was old).  We couldn't make him a house cat because of allergies, and he loved the outdoors.  To smooth things over with the neighbors, for a while we kept Butter in the garage during the day and only let him out in the evening.  Their cats were out during the day, and put up at night, because they were de-clawed.  Butter really learned where his home was while he was "stuck" in the garage.  I don't think he ever spent too much time at the neighbors after that, though I know he still wandered the neighborhood and hunted in the fields.

I loved to drive home and see his green eyes shining in the dark.  He would crouch down in the grass, like he was going to stalk the car.  He made me smile.  Then, he would run and follow us home to get in the garage for the night.

Butter was a tough cat.  He did get into fights.  He killed snakes, salamanders, birds, rats, rabbits, and mice. He even killed a possum once.  You can see one of his ears is floppy.  He got hurt, and that is the way it healed.

As I said in the post in Memory of our Libby dog, the dog and cat became best friends after a few years.  The hung out together, cuddled together, and the cat would even "massage" (with claws!) the dog's back.  Butter even taught Libby to clean her paws with her tongue like a cat.  They were totally best friends.

He looks like a tough character, doesn't he?  But he had a soft heart for Libby and his family.  He knew just when you needed a leg rub, or time to pet him and relax.

I made this bench for Ellie's room many years ago. Eventually, the best place for the bench was in the garage as a place to store rubber boots, and sit to put them on and off.  Butter decided the bench was his bed.  He slept there nearly every night after I put the bench there.  He was funny, too.  He kind of adapted to our schedule in later years.  He would hunt and run around during the day.  Many times in the last few years, he would want in and out all day long.  He learned that if he snuck in the door to the kitchen and waited by the patio door, we would let him out there.  Also, if he meowed outside the patio door (or snuck in there), we would let him through the kitchen out into the garage.  He was a smart kitty.

I think Butter was lonesome after Libby died.  I know my childhood cat, Muffin, didn't last too many years after our dog, Duke, died.  Butter seemed to be looking for Libby, and had a questioning, almost mournful meow at times.

Butter appeared to decide that he needed to take over the job of dog, as well as his role of cat.  He would follow us out to the barn when we did chores, or put the animals up at night.  He was right on your heels, just like a dog would be.  You can see in the picture below that he took on the job of babysitter/guard.

I don't know if age, a broken heart, or being overworked took it's toll on our cat, but I went through the garage to the basement on Monday night, January 13th, and Butter was there on the bench.  He lifted up his head to look at me.  I usually apologized for turning on the light and interrupting him.  The next morning, Thomas woke me up to tell me that our cat died.  Thomas found the cat on the floor, near the front of my Envoy.  Wyatt and I buried him that day.

The Little Gang and Guardian Guineas (written with Wyatt)

Mid-September of 2013, we got one Rhode Island Red, two (Plymouth) Barred Rocks, one Pearl Grey Guinea, and one Lavendar Guinea, all chicks from Orscheln Farm and Home.  The Rhode Island Red is named Pippi.  The Barred Rocks were named Rudy and Litter Box.  The Lavendar Guinea is named Laverne, and the Pearl Grey Guinea is Shirley (shemezel, shimzel, hasenfeffer incorporated).

This is Pippi, our Rhode Island Red.

This is Rudy, one of the Barred Rocks (or Plymouth Barred Rock).

This is Litter Box, who was supposed to be the Dark Knght, but was the name Litter Box stuck, after this one found his way into the cat's litter box in the garage multiple times. 

This is Laverne. She is a Lavendar Guinea Fowl.

This is Shirley ( of Laverne and Shirley, Wyatt wanted a special name for the Guineas and Misty suggested).  Shirley is a Pearl Gray Guinea.

When they were little babies, they lived in the garage.  When they got bigger, we moved them into the A-frame chicken coop.  When the weather got cold, we introduced them to the big coop with the rest of our chickens.  We called them "the little gang", because they were always running around together.  You never saw one without the others nearby.  They were SO cute!

This is the Guinea Girls holding claws. See the two claws on top are intertwined.

The Barred Rocks grew fast and large.  We began to suspect that one, if not both of them, were roosters.  Once they started crowing (and they sounded like a wolf howling compared to our little bantam rooster!), we knew they were both roosters, and they couldn't stick around the homestead.  They were chasing hens, and upsetting Rotisserie (our resident rooster). Which was making Rotisserie aggressive, and he had been pretty tame.

This is Rudy.  Mr. Homesteader behind him.  And to the far, back, left is Toy Pony.

Here you can see Rudy, Laverne, Pippi, and Litter Box is behind Laverne and Pippi.

This is how they were usually seen, if not closer in a group.  Litter Box is in front of Rudy.  The Guineas are right next to each other, and Pippi to the far left.  The chicken farmer is up on the stairs to the back garage door.

The Guineas were loud as everyone said they would be.  We tried to take the roosters somewhere to be butchered (like we did with some of our meat birds, and the two previous accidental red roosters), but no one was butchering chickens around us anymore.  So, Thomas called on his friend, and they were going to butcher the roosters, and we (Thomas and Misty) decided the Guineas had been a long enough experiment, so they were going to be meat birds, too.  Only, the week that we were going to butcher them, the Guineas earned a pardon.  They alerted the kids and I to a coyote in our back acreage.  We had to scare the coyote off multiple times, and keep watch the rest of the day until the chickens went into the coop for the night.  The Guineas squawk was different than normal and alerted Wyatt.  When he looked outside, he thought it was a fox, or a dog.  Ellie thought it looked more like a wolf, or coyote.  I recognized the animal as a coyote.  The kids didn't want the Guineas to die anyway, but now I had a reason to like them, too.  I promised the kids, I would petition their Dad for the Guineas to live.  He didn't have much problem with that idea, when I told him how they saved our flock.

Here are our feathered watch dogs, Laverne on the left, Shirley on the right.

Wyatt is currently reading a book called Guinea Fowl that we purchased at Cackle Hatchery.  He is always researching and learning about his birds.  Guinea Fowl are called the feathered watch dogs of the barnyard.  We certainly agree with that!  They make a sound like "buck-wheat, buck-wheat", but the girls also make the "chi-chi-chi" sound that the male guineas make.  The males only make the "chi" sound. The "buck-wheat" sound is unique to the female guinea fowl.  If you are a brave homesteader, the meat of the guinea is supposed to be superior to any barnyard fowl or game bird (excluding the Royal Purple Guinea).  You could easily raise them for meat.  They don't require much feeding.  They love bugs!  Our chickens love bugs, too. We have had the least amount of bugs ever since having chickens and guineas.  Besides having a plethora of fresh eggs, the best part of having chickens (for Misty) is the lack of bugs!

Pippi, Shirley and Laverne; all that is left of the Little Gang.

Thomas and his friend, Michael, ended up butchering the Barred Rock Roosters.  The Guineas and Pippi were adopted by Rotisserie (our Black Cochin Bantam Rooster).  Rotisserie and the Guineas remind Thomas of Darth Vader and the Storm Troopers from Star Wars, because the Guineas look like the helmeted storm troopers and are frequently "guarding" the black clad Darth Rooster.

Chickens in the Classroom

Last year, we participated in Chickens in the Classroom, through our local 4-H office.  We went to the office and picked up a dozen eggs that had already been candled (back-lit to make sure there was a growing baby chicken inside).

We had to set up the homemade incubator, fill the pan under the shelf with water....

make sure the "thermostat" was adjusted to keep the eggs warm.

Wyatt took care of them.  He sprayed them with water to keep them moist, and turned them over multiple times, everyday.  We put X marks on the eggs, so he could tell when he turned them over.  You can see when the little chicks started making peck marks as they began to make their way out of the eggs.

Hatching chicks was pretty fun, especially seeing the little chicks make their way out of the shell... then going from wet, weak, scrawny birds to cute, fluffy, little chicks.

The part and both liked and didn't like about this project is that the birds are all Cornish Cross Chickens, which means they are meat birds. They grow very big, very fast.  If you don't butcher them in a timely manner, their legs can break.  They get scary big!  And I don't enjoy the butchering and packaging.  They are good eating.  I very much enjoy eating chickens that I know how they've been raised.  Ellie refuses to eat them, because she fell in love with them when they looked like this:

Chickens and the Chicken McMasion

We have a silly song at our house now.  It goes:  Baby Batam Chicken McMasion, Chicken McMansion, bok, bok, bok, bok, bok.   Back in the early spring of this year (when it was still snowing... might have even been winter), my hubby had already decided that we were going to try chicken farming.  We signed up with the local Extension/4H office for chickens in the classroom.  Hubby had a plan for a chicken coop based on our little white shed in the back of the house & a bunch of coops we've looked at the past couple of years.  He told his design idea to his friend, John G., and they got to building.  This is a mobile coop, currently being moved by our neighbor, who has a small tractor (but could be moved by our pick up).  You can see the door for people to go in on this end.  The dark door-looking space is actually for a window & there is an identical space on the other side.  This is before windows and painting.  You can't see in this picture, but there are three "doors" on the outsides to collect eggs from nesting boxes on the inside.  The whole thing was so fancy to me, and I would like a little shed like that for my own, that I dubbed the coop the "Chicken McMansion."

Not long after the coop was complete, the boys couldn't stand it any longer... they went to Tractor Supply Company and picked up some baby chicks.  We also got given some meat birds, from someone else hatching chickens in the classroom.  These are Cornish Crosses, and they grow very big, very fast.

These are white pullets.  All turned out to be girls, as they were supposed to be.  Pullets are full size birds (as opposed to bantams), and sexed, so that you know you are getting laying hens.  It was cold, and they still had their baby down, so they had to have heat lamps on almost all the time.

This batch got picked up the next day... at a different Tractor Supply store.  Over in the corner, you can see a couple of black birds.  They are our bantams, which are not sexed.  One turned out to be Wyatt's rooster, whose name is Rotisserie (just in case Daddy made him kill the rooster).  The other has a little bit of white and blackish gray.  That one is Ellie's bantam, her name is Tris (after the character in the book Divergent... because she was a little daredevil when she started flying.  The littlest chicken, and she was flying the highest!).  The other birds are red pullets, mixes with Rhode Island Reds (high production layers).

Here is the completed coop, with the chicken run and windows in the backyard.  The red glow is from the heat lamps for the little ones inside.  They got really stinky in the garage, so we were all ready to have some go out to the coop.  We wound up bringing them in and out because of the weather.

You can see the nesting boxes here with the nice plastic mats, that would be so great... in theory, because you can rinse them off when they get poopy.  Only, when our chickens started laying, they did not like the mats.  The boxes are now filled with hay from our land.

You can see the view from this side of the people door to get into the run. The kids and I painted the run. The coop was built with a lot of scrap wood from our old deck, so it was a lot cheaper to make than it would have been, had we used all brand new wood.

The little white pullets were the oldest.  We had to keep them separate, because they wanted to pick on the littler chickens.

You can see the hanging food and water.  We have larger food and water holders in the coop now.  These are in our second coop (a smaller A-frame style)... yes, we now have TWO chicken coops!

I got this last picture from my Hubby's phone, taken May 19th.  The chickens are about the same age as our new "babies" are now (yes, the kids got 3 more chickens and 2 guineas September 10th).  You can see the extra layer of wire that had to be added to the chicken run.  The little ones could fit through the chicken wire, so that is rabbit wire added to the bottom, to keep them safe.  We mostly kept them in the coop until they got to be full sized.  Once they got their adult feathers, they could keep themselves warm enough outside.  But we wanted to make sure they were safe from predators.  Now that they are grown, they get to free range all day long, from sun-up till sun-down.  

On the right, you can see Wyatt's black bantam rooster, Rotisserie.  Wyatt is thee Chicken Farmer now.  He researches them every day, cares for them diligently, and collects eggs.  He has figured out that Rotisserie is a Black Cochin Bantam.  Being a bantam to a chicken is like being a pony to a horse (it's all about size).  We weren't necessarily going to have a rooster, but our neighbors didn't mind, and we all fell in love with Rotisserie.  He is so unique and a handsome rooster.  The next one from the right is Tris, who Wyatt has determined is a Columbian Wyandotte Bantam (acutally with more research, we have decided she is a Light Brahma).  Tris is a champion layer!  Though her eggs are about half the size of a regular ones; once she layed 9 days in a row.  Then, you can see two reds...Wyatt might know who they are, but I can't tell you for sure (he says Fried Chicken is the one standing on the wood).  Wyatt has a red named Fried Chicken, and a white named Fried Rotisserie. Fried Rotisserie is the littlest of the whites, and she lays eggs almost as small as Tris does.  Wyatt has handled Tris and Rotisserie so much that they are very tame.

In total, we have 20 laying hens, including Tris, and one rooster.  That doesn't include the new chickens and guineas.  We have lost one meat bird to an animal that ate it's head off, a white chicken to a heart attack (?... not sure), and another white that a neighbor's dog killed, and a red bird that ran off with a flock of turkeys.

I teased my husband that my cousin knew she was marrying a pig farmer, but I didn't know I was marrying a chicken farmer.  Wyatt corrected me though... Wyatt is the chicken farmer.  The chickens have been a great experience in responsibility for Wyatt.  He knows so much about chickens now, and I am so proud of how he takes care of them.

Crockpot Chicken Tacos

This has to be my favorite crock-pot meal right now! These are pics of the gorgeous chicken tacos my hubby put together.

Crock-pot Chicken Tacos

Ingredients:

5 to 8 frozen chicken breasts

2 packages homemade taco seasoning

1/2 cup water

Directions:

Add all ingredients to crock-pot, or slow cooker. 

(You can use whatever taco seasoning you like, but the link sends you to my homemade recipe... I go with less cumin for this recipe, because cumin is really spicy).

Cook on low for 6 to 8 hours, or high for 3 to 4 hours.

When cooked, shred meat with a large fork (see my cool plastic-y one that my sister-in-law got me in a package for Christmas last year?).

This is a great, fast, meal.  All the rest of the ingredients are dry or refrigerated:

cheese, tomatoes (and/or salsa), lettuce, taco shells (or chips, for taco salad), or soft taco shells, and maybe some guacamole.

My hubby like his taco shells warmed in the oven, but that only takes 10 mins.  While they are warming, I can get out all the rest of the taco pieces, and shred the meat.

In Memory of our Libby Puppy

We moved into our house in June of 2000.  We celebrated our 1st wedding anniversary the next month.  We were expecting our first child (born November 2000).  We were not looking for a dog to add to all our 1sts, but on August 25, 2000, we stopped at Walmart and someone had these adorable puppies in the back of their pick up truck, giving them away.

I gave her a pair of Thomas's underwear, so she would know her master's scent.

They said she was 3/4 lab and 1/4 chow.  Thomas watched them and this one was smart!  She went in a corner to pee, away from everyone, and away from where she was posing her cuteness.  I looked inside her mouth.  My Dad always said that good dogs, smart dogs, have black on the roof of their mouths.  Oh, we fell in love.  Our sweet Libby came home with us.

This is me with Libby, in our garage, on a scrap from our new bedroom carpet.

There was just a small dog pen at the house we bought.  Later that fall, Thomas (with help) built a larger fenced yard on our acreage for Libby to have as her own space.  The first night she slept in the dog pen, she found the little holes and escaped.  In the morning, we woke to her her whining under our bedroom window, clear on the other side of the house!  How did she know where we were?

Libby sat on my lap, and snuggled my growing stomach when she was so little and new.

The same morning, I put Libby back in her pen, but I accidentally locked myself out of the house.  We had no hide-a-key, or keyed entry.  I had to carry the puppy down to the neighbors in my pajamas, and ask to use the phone.  My brother came down and got me back in the house.  I can't remember if my parents had a key at the time, or he used his locksmithing skills.  He also helped me cover up the holes in the fence, so the puppy would not escape so easily the next time.

This is Ellie at age 1 year old with our Libby.

Libby was a wonderful dog!  She was so friendly, loving, gentle, and protective of her family.  You can see her licking Ellie in the above picture.  This was before we knew that Ellie was allergic to dogs.  When we found out that Ellie was allergic, Libby knew, too. She never tried to lick Ellie anymore.  She stayed a distance away from Ellie at all times, but she would follow her and lay at a distance watching the children play.  I knew she would never let anyone, or any animal near the kids.  She was the best babysitter (I watched them from the window in the kitchen while I did dishes).

This is Libby with Thomas and Ellie in June of 2002, we were expecting Wyatt at this time.

She was on the small side of large dogs, but I loved having her around.  I felt very safe with her here.

This is a little out of order, we rescued these kittens in  August of 2001.

These kittens were a challenge.  We rescued them from the local tennis courts.  Someone had dumped them off.  The yellow one, we named Butter, and the white and gray one was named Spider.  At first, Libby thought that she needed to kill them, tree them... they were not supposed to be in her territory.  I think that more than a year passed before we did not have to watch carefully.  Spider cat disappeared, but Butter is still with us.  The dog and cat eventually became the best of friends.  We often found them snuggled together, as you will see in the pictures to come.

This is a picture we took for Wyatt to send to his pen pals.  I couldn't find any old pictures with Wyatt and Libby, but this is a nice one.

Wyatt was kind of afraid of Libby when he was little.  He grew up with a sister allergic to dogs, so any dogs were a little bit scary for him.  He knew that Sister could not be around them, so the whole thing was a bit strange to him.  When the kids got older, I assigned them chores, Ellie had to feed and water the cat, Wyatt had to feed and water the dog.  That is when Libby really came to be his dog (still the family's, but he came to like to pet her, and love on her).  Wyatt got over his fear of dogs, with my help, and he really came to love Libby.

After we got the pony, we would check on Libby on our way back from putting the pony in her stall for the night.  If she needed food, or water, we would get her some. Whether she needed food or water, we would pet her and tell her what a good dog she was, how we loved her, and get her a treat.

Butter (the cat) is curled up on Libby's back.  I have pictures somewhere of Butter  kneading  Libby's back. Libby also learned to clean her face with her paws like a cat.

Our poor old girl in the snow that didn't want to quit this winter.

Thomas found tumors growing on Libby's throat this last year.  She got very thin this last winter.

Thomas made Libby come inside when the weather was really bad.  Butter curled up with his longtime friend.

When the snow was at it's worst, Thomas made Libby come and stay in the garage.  She was part Chow, so she used to love to play in the snow, and even lay in the snow.  Her winter coat would get so thick and warm.  She just really enjoyed the cold weather.  We used to say we'd brush a whole dog off of her once warm weather came and she was shedding.  Libby just didn't feel so well this winter.  I prayed that God let her live until the ground was not frozen and we could bury her on our land.

Two old friends.  The last week together.

Libby was with us until Monday, April 29, 2013.  Thomas knew she wasn't doing very well that weekend before. He considered having her put down, but then prayed that God give us however much time he wanted us to have with Libby.  He told Libby that it was okay for her to leave us.  She got up and barked off the neighbor's dogs one last time while Thomas was working in the front yard.

That Monday, Thomas came home early from work to do some work at the house.  As he drove up our gravel road, he saw Libby lift up her head from the ditch across from our driveway.  One of our neighbors came up to help Thomas with his project.  When the neighbor left, Thomas went over to check on Libby, she was still there.  Well, her body was there.  Whatever spirit a dog has, was gone.  

Thomas came in the house to tell us.  He said, that we all had to hurry, there was something he needed to show us.  I was expecting to see a snake, or some other animal.  The Wyatt and I were not expecting to see our dog dead.  Ellie had a feeling that Libby was dead.

Wyatt helped Thomas and I dig her grave.  The ground was so wet and muddy, the going was slow and difficult, but the ground was not frozen, like I prayed.  We got her body buried.  The same helpful neighbor's dog died a week later.  He made a really neat sign with his dog's name on it. Thomas asked him to make us one, too, and he did.

Libby was such a good dog.  We are thankful for the time God gave us with her.