Take the Good with the Bad

Last nite was very strange. I knew it was time to breed Squeak as she had a 31 follicle and she always ovulates by 35, and she cannot be bred tonight as it is Fuzzy's day. I dread this as she is not a fan of being bred. We have to twitch her even when she is ovulating imminently. This makes Barry upset, and we always get in a fight. And of course, it is just flat dangerous.

The craziest thing happened---Barry suggested we try her without twitching her first and see what happens. Whatever, it is your time bucko--but I knew it would not work.

It DID! She stood there like a lady! This is our third breeding season with her and she has NEVER tolerated it well. I am so excited about it.

That did not last long though. As is my usual MO, I decided to use the last twenty minutes of daylight to mow some parts of the farm property I had been avoiding because I had to move stuff to do it. I made one pass by the front where some corral panels had been, then went to do another section, and then came back to get closer to the barn where the panels had been. I see in front of me, two tiny black blobs and get off my mower to see who they are. They are baby kitties, really tiny--I wondered where the cat had them. Evidently she thought tall grass was a good choice. It was not. I had hit one of them.

Poor baby had its little arm chopped right off. I was so upset, I called Barry back to the farm to dispatch it from its suffering. He got there and refused to do it. He did find however that I had done more than hit that one, I had completely mulched another one. So the little tripod is toddling all around and tipping over on her back like a turtle.

What a horrible nite.