Feb 26, 2015
Jan 19, 2015
TB racing related link
Every so often, I get stuck on the horse racing industry- Thoroughbred racing mostly- and this relates to THAT so.... I'll care enough to write about how much I care later.
Bloodhorse article on the topic.
Jan 17, 2015
eh? (foffdaughter)
| Huh!... How interesting! (Click the image below to make it bigger)  |
| Source: http://www.irs.gov/publications/p526/ar02.html |
Nov 5, 2014
So full.. remember FULL?
Text message with picture of pitiful skinny kitten from Foff daughter. Anguish and angst from both of us. Complicated by the fact that Foffdaughter was 4, 3, 2, 1, day from moving to a new location. And here, in the front yard of her soon to be former house, was an obviously starving, obviously feral kitten. Sigh. Foff daughter has a good friend who said IF this kitten was domesticated, she could give it a home. To be honest, it didn't matter. When faced with misery and a probably early death, we were incapable of just ignoring the creature. Foffdaughter managed to HavaHart trap her in 48 hours, rather impressive. Noah's Ark, our favorite feral vet, once again did an outstanding job. The best news was that this girl was negative for Fe leuk and FIV. The spay went well. The entire time I transported her in the covered HavaHart, she crouched in fear mode as far as she could get from me. The vet tech said she held and stroked the kitten for 2 hours as she awoke, and that kitten was sweet and responsive. This is a glimmer of hope for me.
So what to do? Foffdaughter's home was in moving chaos. So the newbie went in a spare bedroom at my house about a week ago. I have reviewed domesticating ferals on line. I have respected her space, knocking on the door before entering, not searching or even looking (OK, looking much. She can't tell I peer under the door from 10 feet away can she?) for her in her hiding place. Apparently they need to feel secure. She eats well and has used the litter box from the very first hour. Yesterday FoffDad was in the room for a few minutes, and he noticed her peering around her hiding place to study him. I tried last night, nada. Later last night, he had a sighting again. So we will see.
And Foffdaughter and company got moved successfully, her four-legged crew have adjusted and she is beginning to be able to sleep again.
We are FULL. SIGH.
Text message with picture of pitiful skinny kitten from Foff daughter. Anguish and angst from both of us. Complicated by the fact that Foffdaughter was 4, 3, 2, 1, day from moving to a new location. And here, in the front yard of her soon to be former house, was an obviously starving, obviously feral kitten. Sigh. Foff daughter has a good friend who said IF this kitten was domesticated, she could give it a home. To be honest, it didn't matter. When faced with misery and a probably early death, we were incapable of just ignoring the creature. Foffdaughter managed to HavaHart trap her in 48 hours, rather impressive. Noah's Ark, our favorite feral vet, once again did an outstanding job. The best news was that this girl was negative for Fe leuk and FIV. The spay went well. The entire time I transported her in the covered HavaHart, she crouched in fear mode as far as she could get from me. The vet tech said she held and stroked the kitten for 2 hours as she awoke, and that kitten was sweet and responsive. This is a glimmer of hope for me.
So what to do? Foffdaughter's home was in moving chaos. So the newbie went in a spare bedroom at my house about a week ago. I have reviewed domesticating ferals on line. I have respected her space, knocking on the door before entering, not searching or even looking (OK, looking much. She can't tell I peer under the door from 10 feet away can she?) for her in her hiding place. Apparently they need to feel secure. She eats well and has used the litter box from the very first hour. Yesterday FoffDad was in the room for a few minutes, and he noticed her peering around her hiding place to study him. I tried last night, nada. Later last night, he had a sighting again. So we will see.
And Foffdaughter and company got moved successfully, her four-legged crew have adjusted and she is beginning to be able to sleep again.
We are FULL. SIGH.
Oct 10, 2014
Sep 23, 2014
Full, no vacancy, no room at the inn, no room on the ark
OK, I know I said we were full. Full, full, full, as in NO MORE PETS. The rats had all gone to their reward, whatever that may be. It was odd to see how many of them died of the same malignancy, manifest as groin masses. It supports why they are used in cancer research. What ever gene line these carried had a predisposition to cancer, that was clear. But they are gone, and Shrink is gone, and we were full.
So when Foffdaughter reported a sighting near her home of a possible feral, I warned her "Full." Later when she sent a picture of a possible feral near her friends house (found to belong to a neighbor) I said "Full". And then she told me about Ellie.
Ellie had belonged to Foffdaughter and Friend when they shared a house 6 years ago. Prior to that she had belonged to her Friend's family of cats. I remembered her fondly, a purring joy with soft velvet fur. She is gray with white paws, and she is tiny. Ellie had been fully mature, shall we say, 6 years ago. And now she needed a home. When I heard the story the first time, I stuck to the party line. "Sorry, but full". And then I thought about it.
I guess all companion animals deserve a good home, but there is something about an old creature that has done nothing but be loving for all its days, winding up on Craigs list or in a shelter. Spot is one of those. And now Ellie. After 24 hours, I texted my yield to our daughter. FoffDad was traveling, and he would just have to adjust.
When he called, I said "You know, when I promised no more cats?". He laughed and said "Did you think I believed you?!". He has been a good sport. Ellie is happy, and I am happy. And Foffdaughter was very happy, as was her Friend.
But now I am FULL.
So when Foffdaughter reported a sighting near her home of a possible feral, I warned her "Full." Later when she sent a picture of a possible feral near her friends house (found to belong to a neighbor) I said "Full". And then she told me about Ellie.
Ellie had belonged to Foffdaughter and Friend when they shared a house 6 years ago. Prior to that she had belonged to her Friend's family of cats. I remembered her fondly, a purring joy with soft velvet fur. She is gray with white paws, and she is tiny. Ellie had been fully mature, shall we say, 6 years ago. And now she needed a home. When I heard the story the first time, I stuck to the party line. "Sorry, but full". And then I thought about it.
I guess all companion animals deserve a good home, but there is something about an old creature that has done nothing but be loving for all its days, winding up on Craigs list or in a shelter. Spot is one of those. And now Ellie. After 24 hours, I texted my yield to our daughter. FoffDad was traveling, and he would just have to adjust.
When he called, I said "You know, when I promised no more cats?". He laughed and said "Did you think I believed you?!". He has been a good sport. Ellie is happy, and I am happy. And Foffdaughter was very happy, as was her Friend.
But now I am FULL.
Aug 14, 2014
Morris, George
George Morris is a giant in the horse world... A titanic force, really. For starters, he is credited as being a founding father of hunt seat equitation! It is an awesome thing for one person to raise the expectations for an entire sporting world.
As an equestrian, he earned worldwide respect and recognition through his competitive achievements. As a trainer, he is it. The Ultimate. Many of his students are/were wildly successful, like, 'Olympic competitor' successful. It seems to be a pretty damn exciting thing for someone to just get a chance to ATTEND one of his clinics as a spectator, because THAT is how seriously amazing this man is.
He is the U.S. show jumping team's Chef d’Equipe, which means that he is responsible for comprehensive team management. The position entails coordinating representation for the team and/or the individuals competing in both statewide and national championships.
Oh- and he also has a tendency to be hilarious.
Like... Very funny (in my opinion at least).
What a diverse skill set that man has.
Jun 16, 2014
Foffmom
We knew it was coming. From the time Wonder Vet told us she was FIV positive, we knew she had a limited lifespan. She was not allowed contact with other cats to limit the spread of the disease. But she seemed very happy with the pet rats in the quilt room that was her domain. She loved humans, and her cheerful greetings and enthusiastic cuddling made us all into very big fans. Even Foffdad, who does not normally visit the quilt room much, would go in for a 'Shrink therapy session'.
We knew it was coming. At a year after her "acquisition" ( fine stealth work by Foffdaughter) we relaxed a little. At 18 months, I was going through the web info/trash about FIV and one poster said her FIV positive cat had made it to 20 years. Some part of me exhaled, maybe. Maybe Shrink would be one of the lucky ones. Maybe we all would be.
We knew it was coming. When it came, it came fast and hard. She quit eating, had a fever, and most worst, she could not longer run to greet you coming in the door. The last week she could barely raise her head from the floor. But when you went to her, she would purr. Wonder Vet tried for 10 days. Antibiotics, steroids. A brief improvement and then a crash back to the floor, back to being something Shrink had never been, which was unhappy. In retrospect, we should have skipped the steroids, the second round of antibiotics.
We knew it was coming. At a year after her "acquisition" ( fine stealth work by Foffdaughter) we relaxed a little. At 18 months, I was going through the web info/trash about FIV and one poster said her FIV positive cat had made it to 20 years. Some part of me exhaled, maybe. Maybe Shrink would be one of the lucky ones. Maybe we all would be.
We knew it was coming. When it came, it came fast and hard. She quit eating, had a fever, and most worst, she could not longer run to greet you coming in the door. The last week she could barely raise her head from the floor. But when you went to her, she would purr. Wonder Vet tried for 10 days. Antibiotics, steroids. A brief improvement and then a crash back to the floor, back to being something Shrink had never been, which was unhappy. In retrospect, we should have skipped the steroids, the second round of antibiotics.
We knew it was coming. Funny, that didn't make it any easier to say good-bye.
Jun 6, 2014
It is just a post. Move on.
Shrink became part of the Foffarm family on July 2nd, 2012
She 'left' us (died....was euthanized... expired... was put to sleep... ) on May 12th, 2014, and she is sorely missed.
I'm just not ready to.. I'm currently unprepared to give a report on the matter.
At some point, I will make a picture-rich post that celebrates her life.
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Foffarm did a horse-swap, trading Foffmom's QH mare for this palomino TB gelding (pictured with Dyl)
Sinyatta
Foffdaughter = MuckBucket. So these are legitimately my pictures, but I had to start adding a my watermark. Which kinda sucks. Meh. Over it.
Apr 9, 2014
Foffmom: Not-at-all-crazy cat lady
You can take the crazy cat lady away from the colony, but........
So we are on vacation. We stopped at West Virginia seeking authentic local lunch, which we found. (Tomaro's has great Easter bread, to any who are interested.) As we waited for our hoagies at Sloppy Poppy, I saw two cats across the street. This was in a struggling part of town, and the cats were scruffy but not thin, a calico and a grey and white with long hair, rubbing against the building corner, and hiding under a van parked in the drive. My crazy cat lady antennae were twitching, and my husband said with warning in his voice "We are NOT picking them up." I walked out and ventured across the road.
One of the women from the bakery was getting into her car. We had a conversation about the cats. "I feed them every night." She said. "They are from the same litter." When I called to them, she said "They are feral. You cannot get near them. I feed about 7 feral colonies around here." Wow, a fellow feline fanatic. We chatted abit, and I went back and got my hoagie. It was good to know that someone else is out there trying to care for cats others have discarded.
And when we pulled into the Inn at Montchanin, I spotted two lovely cats, a dilute tortie and a black and white, at the edge of the parking lot. "Oh, those are the house cats." said the young woman escorting us to our room. "They live here." Definitely not in need of rescue.
So we are on vacation. We stopped at West Virginia seeking authentic local lunch, which we found. (Tomaro's has great Easter bread, to any who are interested.) As we waited for our hoagies at Sloppy Poppy, I saw two cats across the street. This was in a struggling part of town, and the cats were scruffy but not thin, a calico and a grey and white with long hair, rubbing against the building corner, and hiding under a van parked in the drive. My crazy cat lady antennae were twitching, and my husband said with warning in his voice "We are NOT picking them up." I walked out and ventured across the road.
One of the women from the bakery was getting into her car. We had a conversation about the cats. "I feed them every night." She said. "They are from the same litter." When I called to them, she said "They are feral. You cannot get near them. I feed about 7 feral colonies around here." Wow, a fellow feline fanatic. We chatted abit, and I went back and got my hoagie. It was good to know that someone else is out there trying to care for cats others have discarded.
And when we pulled into the Inn at Montchanin, I spotted two lovely cats, a dilute tortie and a black and white, at the edge of the parking lot. "Oh, those are the house cats." said the young woman escorting us to our room. "They live here." Definitely not in need of rescue.
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