Life with a Bird Dog

Before Rupert pushed his wiry self into our lives, I thought I knew what it meant to own a dog. Feed it, walk it, play with it, and make sure there is enough room on the bed for them to sleep.However, I didn’t know what it meant to own a bird dog. 

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Turning Roadkill into Dinner

“I have a roadkill deer,” read the early-afternoon text message from my husband. “Call around for processing.”

Without exhausting much effort, I learned the butcher shop in town was still accepting deer for processing into neatly packaged steak, roasts and hamburger. After passing the information, including the cost of services, along to Scott, my phone dinged with another message.

“Expensive,” it read.

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Jethro: The Lovable Monster

No matter how prepared you think you might be, the loss of a beloved pet is always a hard blow to absorb. It doesn’t get easier the older you get, or the older they are when they pass or how long it’s been since they’ve been gone.

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Sunshine daydreams

In the dead of winter I am missing the crunch on dirt under my fingernails, slapping away swarms of bloodthirsty flying vampires and, yes, even the smell of chicken-made fertilizer. The sunburn, the aching back and broken nails are all worth it when you pluck the first vine-ripened tomato from the bushes or slice into the season’s first zucchini.

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