Creature Comforts

As part of my nurturing nature, I make sure that every being in my care is as comfortable as is humanly possible.  This means that the chickens and ducks have heated water in the winter, shelter from wind and rain, fresh shavings in their nesting boxes (hint, hint, hint), popcorn for special occasions, and, if I am really feeling motherly, I will cook their scratch grains in the slow cooker overnight until it's like hot breakfast cereal.  The goats have their Dogloo house in the barn, with a nice thick layer of straw for cuddling up.  They have a light on a timer, fresh water in a heated bucket, minerals, baking soda, a portion of grain twice a day and hay.  The sheep will soon have a nice, big run-in shed with a thick layer of straw for bedding and, budget-willing, an inside hay rack and an outside hay rack.  They also have a large heated water bucket.

Inside - well, let's just say that some of us are more comfortable than others.  Kramer is the Poster Boy of Comfort.  He knows a warm place when he finds it. 



He only enjoys classical music for its soothing warmth.

 Scrappy has his blankie, which he loves in the evening.  I wrap him up like an enchilada and he is snoring softly in minutes.  As soon as his gentle snorts are wafting about the room, Kramer moves in.

The cats have their own room, complete with a padded comfy chair and scratching posts, two large litter pans (cleaned daily) and cat-sized furniture.  They also have the rest of the house which they use liberally.

I am still trying to find the comfort zone for Bernie.  She has been so deeply scarred from whatever hell her previous life put her through, that I don't think she will ever be truly comfortable.  So we have to just take advantage of the moments she NOT on guard and poised to flee.  She does like the new couch and, in the morning when I'm in my rocker knitting my cabled things, she will tentatively inch toward the couch next to me.  Looking worried all the way.  Once she is absolutely sure it is allowed, she will hop up and curl into a ball with her head on the pillow and gets all squinty.

Every morning, the dogs get their kibble with warm broth.  (Don't tell the cats!  They'll think I love the dogs more.  Which I don't.  Mostly.)  There are bright orange fleecy vests to wear during hunting season and lots of crunchy treats for any reason.

If it were possible, I would love to be one of my dogs.  But I would have to figure out how to be in two bodies at one time, and that would involve time travel and Buddhism or something very complicated - like quantum physics squared by pi.  Not likely.