Farm Fresh Blog

     The people in my office never expect me to arrive on time.  In fact, if I DO happen to come in on time or "God, Help Me" EARLY, the guy in the cubicle behind me simply pushes a button on his computer and angels sing the "Hallelujah Chorus."  (I'm not kidding!)

     Anyway, the point is - I'm always late.  I start out with great intentions but things just happen. The Farm, like a living, breathing Borg-like Life Force of its own, somehow senses when I'm about to walk out the door on time, and reaches out to stop me.  (I think they take bets at work to see just how bizarre my excuses are.)  Today it was Trace.

     I was walking out the door - in uniform.  I had a package of last night's Chinese dinner in hand to give to the Border Collies when I locked them in their Bunkhouse.  What I failed to properly consider was that in order to take the Border Collies to the Bunkhouse, I had to walk through the driveway paddock, and today there were HORSES in the driveway paddock.  And THAT'S when the Farm Borg took over . . .

Trace shoots through the gate like a brown and white comet.  Calling a 7 month old Border Collie in hot pursuit of not one, but three, horses, is a lesson in futility.

The little comet goes blazing up to Ona's ass and she sends him into orbit. 

 "Self-defense!"

I watch him sail through the air with my heart in my throat.  He lands, skids, and commences to screaming.  That is actually a good thing, because it proves he is still alive.  Suddenly, the horses aren't as much fun as he thought they'd be and he races back to me with his little front leg swung out in front like an opened car door.  Oh shit!  She broke his leg.

I'd seen this before.  Lily broke her leg when she was a puppy and it looked frighteningly familiar.  He is bleeding from the mouth.  Oh shit! She knocked his teeth out.

Thankfully when I get his mouth open, he has all his teeth, he'd just busted his lip.  The leg is beginning to get puffy though.  Great . . . just great . . .

Call Dear Friend Married To Vet.  Thankfully they are home.  They are on their way over.  Trace is putting a little weight on the leg. Vet probes. No serious damage requiring surgery. Possibly greenstick fracture. Possibly just hurt feelings. Vet gives him an anti-inflamatory and makes a kennel for him in their garage.  They will babysit him and ice the leg while I'm at work.  If it begins to look more serious, they will take him to the clinic for x-rays and a cast.  Sigh . . . been there, done that.

For some reason the office didn't seem too surprised that I was calling to tell them that I'd be late again.  Wonder why. 

Forty minutes later Trace is settled in the Vet's garage and I'm headed to work. The Farm Borg has completed its objective.  I'm late again.  I'm thankful though.  Thank God it wasn't more serious. Thank God my little buddy is okay. Hopefully he is just bruised. Hopefully he has learned an important lesson.

And that, Friends & Neighbors, is why I was late for work AGAIN!