Pets Survive Family Vacation

[This blog is a reprinting of a humor column I wrote for the Fostoria Review-Times.  This was from 1978.]

                No one appreciates a camping vacation, including swimming, sunbathing and water skiing, more than me, but it’s wonderful to get back and see that everything survived my absence.

                I don’t mean the houseplants or the garden – I’m talking about my much-loved pets and other creatures.

                Each time during the week that the animals came to mind, I deliberately pushed away the thoughts.  After all, if I trust my babysitter with my kids, I shouldn’t fret about the animals as piled into the car for the homeward journey, my mind became more and more occupied with home.

                Was there a thunderstorm to frighten Candy, the house dog?  Did Oscar bite the hand that fed him?  Did puppy Shadow run away or did Lightning kitty tear up the upholstery?  Maybe we lost some hens when the henhouse door got opened.  Perhaps Jake or Blackie got loose or cut themselves while we were enjoying ourselves in the boat.

                The sight of our house and buildings all intact were heartening.  And then there were three dogs, tails working furiously.  I was the first one out of the car unchaining the dogs and greeting them.  Each dog checked us all out, making sure all five of us were back.  Then I trekked into the house to pick up Lightning and listen to her reassuring purr.

                Next I went out with my egg basket – back to the daily grind – and counted the hens as best I could.  No great welcome from the girls.

                But Blackie, our pony, trotted right up to greet me.  I had to walk over to our horse Jake, who was too buisy eating to be bothered with a hello.

                Now things were back to normal.  The dogs were in and out of the house as often as the door was opened.  The horses trotted over to the fence to meet me when I went to pick beans near them.  Candy barked at the washing machines when it was s pinning.  All three dogs settled in the nearest shade to watch me garden.  The chickens could be heard squawking in the coop as they went about their business and Lightning dashed through the back door to enjoy the sunshine.

                Surveying the premises, we found only two things amiss.  Jim had forgotten to empty a new bag of grain in the feed barrel so the horses didn’t get thweir ration.  And the horses had been playing shove down the fence between the stalls,” and almost did.  It needs repair.

                It seems so hard to get away when you have a menagerie to care for.  We don’t often travel very far or long.  We really enjoyed our vacation; now all we need is to find a campground that allows dogs, horses, cats and chickens,

                Wouldn’t that be ideal?

Racing to Keep Up With Garden!

                The season is quickly becoming a frantic race against time for the home canner and freezer, and that’s the category I joined since we moved to the country.

                If I let the garden go to clean house, the weeds have a field day, and the food rots on the plants.  So I tend to let the house go; now I can’t yell, “Close the door, were you born in a barn?” to the kids because the house looks it.

                I can’t remember the last time I took down cobwebs, and my kitchen cupboards are in a dizzy state.  I barely manage to keep up with dusting and vacuuming and the laundry piles up faster than I the spin dry on the washer.  I must keep pace with some things, like dishes, animals, and bathroom cleaning (also newspaper writing), but the garden comes second.

                It’s wonderful that we got a new freezer this year, but it’s rather unfortunate that Jim hasn’t installed a plug for it in the basement yet.  I’ve frozen 17 quarts of vegetables and fruit now.  With a turkey and a large container of ice cream, not to mention several cans of orange juice and the week’s bread ration, the freezer above the refrigerator is bursting at the seam.  Electrical work is way out of my line, so itr must wait until my live-in handyman can get around to it.

                I can’t complain that Jim was remiss in his household duties as the last few weeks have been hectic.  Besides the ever-ripening variety of produce, we’ve survived a wedding, vacation, moving Grandma from her house to Mom and Dad’s, and a seven day workweek for Jim.

                The other day two of my sisters (I have four) came to help in the garden.  We managed to fill our old trailer full of weeds and cleaned up a great bit of garden.  I pressed all the day’s pickings on them as I couldn’t put them anywhere anyway.  I tried to talk them into tackling the house next, but they declined.

                You’d think that if the freezer were operating, my troubles would be over.  No,’ I’ll always have something to complain about.  The beans.  I hate cleaning beans (but love eating them) more than anything.

                Since food preserving is not in Jim’s line, it’s me that has to cut off the tips and snap millions of the nasty things.  I you rub them the wrong way, it makes your teeth itch.  If you try to start blanching them too soon, you get behind on cleaning them.  It is a necessary evil though, if we want to eat this winter.

                I think I’ll just start some trouble tonight.  When Jim is ready for dinner, I’ll just refuse to serve it until my freezer is plugged in.  Maybe I’d better think of something different though:  he’s bigger than I am and even more stubborn too.  I might never have my freezer.

                Maybe I’ll try one of my infrequent (and not always successful) pleas in exchange for a working freezer?