By Comparison

Last night, as I walked down from the barn in the quiet dark, I reflected on how very blessed my life has been.  Neither my husband, I, nor my children have ever had to experience hunger, a lack of water, a need for a place to stay.  We have wonderful friends, a beautiful place to live, bounty enough to share with animals just for companionship.  The events of the past week illustrate how fragile life and lifestyle can be, how all can be gone in a flash, washed away.  By comparison, my distress at a long, gray and colder than normal winter is a small thing.  Today, I looked at the gray skies and the misty, cold rain with new eyes:  it's not so bad.

The horses sheltered all day in the barn.  They don't understand that it is nasty outside, dancing in their stalls, hoping to go outside.  I let them out to roam the barn as I clean their stalls.  Etta is particularly nosy, dumping over the garbage can and trying to open a bag of poultry feed.  The minis, when they have their turn, roll in the aisle way, rubbing away shedding and itchy hair.

William and I looked for Jefferson.  Unable to locate him in the house, we figured he'd slipped outside perhaps, and now it was cold and raining.  Dh asked if we'd found him.  No, no sign.  "That's a bummer," he said.  Wait, I thought we weren't keeping him?  Did I really think he would be like that, he asked?

Perhaps Jefferson wanted to return to the feral colony?  It isn't there:  with the Humane Society, we trapped ten cats over two days in live traps.  The cats now rest at the clinic in town, having been spayed or neutered today.  I'll release them back to the neighbor's barn tomorrow where they'll resume their free-ranging existence.  But Jefferson?  No, he didn't leave but he had escaped outside and was very scared when I found him on the front porch.  I suppose he'll stay awhile.

Notes:
People of Japan, my prayers go out to you.