Hello again

It's me, Peaches the supporter for Mom who has been upset over her chickens. A neighbor complained, and she may not get to keep them. Chickens are all right I guess. I like egg yolks--cooked of course. The whites? Yuck! Scrambled eggs are yummy if you mix them up really good.

I'm curious to see if mom gets to keep her chickens. You hear about backyard chickens a lot, and you would think, this being a rather rural community, that chickens would be allowed, but it appears that the city has an ordinance against them.  We didn't intend to get a rooster, sorry, but the hens, they ought to stay.

Have you seen the little chicken house? It's not offensive.

Kitchen window view--I saw it once when momma gave me a bath in the sink. Yuck.


Look at this, maybe someday...Wow!

P.S.  A lady not far away has agreed to see if the rooster will fit into her flock. Crossed paws!

A Champion of the Animals

Life is a great big canvas and you should throw all the paint on it you can. --Danny Kaye

Perhaps this is one kiss you don't need.

I Peaches am dog, and an anonymous somebody, kind soul that they were, said they were happy I’m  back blogging, so, I owe it to them to post, to pontificate, to spread my word.

We watched a video last night called Dolphins. Did you know that they are the only animals besides people who call each other by name? And they name themselves—something people do not do on a regular basis. Oh, I know a few people who do. Little Boy Darling is Meowy right now, sometimes Meowy is a cat, other times he something else. Last night he was a spider.

So here I am. I choose to come into this life-time as a poodle dog, and I am colored like a peach, so that fits. I do have a chronic condition. I don’t know if I knew that when I decided to enter this cute little body, but we manage.  I choose Momma to help me. She and Daughter Dear give me fluids every night. I’ve been stuck with a needle more times than  Momma washes dishes, and here I am with a voice.

I believe I ought to champion the cause of animals…

“I think I could turn and live with the animals, they are so placid and self contained;
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins;
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God;
Not one is dissatisfied-not one is demented with the mania of owning things;
Not one kneels to another, nor his kind that lived thousands of years ago.

Walt Whitman wrote that.

Some animals are wild—like the dolphins, and people ought to see that they are protected from fishing nets , and that their ocean stays pure.  Some are wild like the horse, and they ought not to be sold for dog  food, Ugg, Never will my lips touch horse meat. And then there are many many other wild things, the wild pigs of Hawaii, the mongooses, and here in Oregon there is a symphony of the wild in the forests. Love, love, love it.

And dogs? Well, we love humans, and cars and soft beds, and while I used to chase the lizards of California, I do not see many here in Oregon. Chasing a frog? Naugh, why bother. Occasionally a stranger cat will wander into our yard—now that’s fun.

Here is a success story:

Amazing Grace at rescue facility:

Amazing Grace at Parelli Summit:

I'm Back--Still Meditating

Momma told me that bloggers who don’t post regularly are forgotten.

Me? Forgotten!

I can’t let that happen.

I am Peaches, the Pink Party Poodle for Peace. I have to speak my word. I would have spoken earlier but my secretary has been asleep at the switch, and I’ve been asleep on the bed—or in the bookcase. Meditating that is.

They say that getting in the Zone makes for a happy life. Sleep more. Don’t stress out. Go with Mom in the truck--my favorite most activity of the day. Except that yesterday I had a bath first, and I jumped into the truck sopping wet. The car heater dried me, and then I rode with the wind, listened to thundering hoof beats in my head, and slept, and dreamed of a beautiful tomorrow.

It was fun last night when the trick’er’ treaters came to our house--the doorbell would ring, I would bark, that set off Bear, he would bark, Little Boy Darling would run to the door, and open it to  the weirdest kids I had ever seen in my life. They said I looked cute though, so it was okay. They took candy and left.

And you know what?

Momma just ate the last candy bar.

P.S. You've heard of "Bad Piggies?" Well they hit our house.

I retreated.