In 1999, we built our house and near Thanksgiving of that year, we got two Golden Retrievers. In the summer that followed, another little dog showed up. I was walking by the river, and a skinny little black and tan dog touched the back of my calf with her nose. When I turned around, she skittered back. She was afraid.

She got brave enough to come up on RiverCliff hill, and I sat out some food. Mike flew in from Massachusetts that evening, and when he saw the little dog, he suggested we feed her and get her spayed so that we could find her a home.

On Monday, I took her to Bristol Animal Clinic and she met Emily and Dr. John Stone. I explained what we were going to do, and Dr. Stone asked if the little dog had a name.  As he asked, he rubbed her ear and made a comment..”this is a good dog.” I told him that I was calling her Penny because her eyes were the color of copper pennies. He said, “I’d call this dog Lucky because she is one lucky little dog.”

Lucky found her home but it was not with anyone else. She settled in here, changed her name to Luckie with an “ie” and soon nudged her way into our house and into our hearts. We ended up with three large dogs living inside the house.

She became Mike’s constant companion. He portrayed her as a service dog and she got to go into Walmart. I know. It’s awful. She was just such a good dog and so smart.  She and he got away with that for a long time.

When Mike’s truck moved, Luckie was right there. On the job. She was a healthy dog–although she had trouble with her ACL’s, but with good vet care from Dr. Steve Dotson of Bristol Animal Hospital and the UT Vet School, we had both ACL’s replaced and Luckie continued to run and leap for many additional years.

But time marches on and Luckie was approaching 16 years of age.  About a year ago, she could no longer get in her beloved truck. We lifted her in and out. More recently, however, the normal daily things became difficult for her.   Last week, she went outside to use the restroom and she fell. She could not get back up. I went out and lifted her up “righting” her, and she walked back in the house, but she was very frightened, and I knew our time together was short.

 In church Sunday, our pastor talked about making decisions, and I prayed for guidance. Although I never had that “aha” moment,  I became more peaceful with letting her go. If you are a believer, and I am, you know that animals will be in heaven for we are told in Isaiah that “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them.”

Another comforting verse is “All flesh shall see the salvation of God.”    She was flesh.

But I am going to miss her.  Mike is going to miss her worse.   We are sad.   She was our special little pal.   She and I sat on the floor of Dr. Dotson’s office and I snuggled her and whispered how much I loved her.   She relaxed and relaxed…gently falling asleep.    I stayed with her and held her until she was in a place where her legs will never hurt again.

Luckie Beaule…given to us by God sometime in the year 2000.  Returned to God on February 4, 2015.

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, and I’m sitting here mesmerized with the reality show Southern Justice. How about those police dogs? They really earn their keep and talk about liking your job!!!

It is gray outside and supposed to be a wintry mix tonight and tomorrow. I’ve got potato soup in the crockpot for dinner. Having one of those quiet days where I look at my beloved dog and try and be thankful for the almost 16 years we’ve shared with her. It’s coming to an end, and my heart is breaking. However, that’s not what this post is about. Yesterday, Mother Nature gave us some sunshine. Much needed sunshine.

It was a good day to go looking for another chicken house. I blogged about two others in the past few weeks. See here and here. I didn’t have to go far for today’s chicken house…just up the road a piece. I went to Ricky and Trina Vickers. They are my neighbors, and Ricky is a distant cousin. I’ve known him since he was a squirt in a diaper. Here’s his mama…our families are intertwined by blood, love and friendship. The red thread that time does not break. Our parents were lifelong, best friends. They understood that true riches are in the people you love. Hello Cousin Susan.

Gosh…she looks good!! Susan is a survivor. She has faced down some tremendous health challenges in the past five years, and she always lives with the grief of having her oldest son taken in his prime. Mark Vickers will never be forgotten by this family. However, I see her returning to good health, and I am grateful.

Back to chickens…here we are!!

The small farm trend today is to have chicken tractors where the chicken house can be moved about on the property. We have those in Mendota, but we also believe in using what we have.  Ricky and Trina had this building, and it’s perfect for their hens and roosters. These two will take on any farming challenge. They’ve raised piggies, ducks, chickens and they want to get into bees! They love honey. I know. I sell or barter them my honey!

If there can be a crapamongous picture, I can take it. Sorry! If this was a good picture, you’d see a hen “dusting” which basically is cleaning herself by rolling in dirt. Dusting gives her healthy skin and feathers and removes parasites. It must feel awfully good, too, because she would stand up and then just flop back over. I want to dust, too!!

Ricky and Trina’s chickens are well adjusted. They’re very friendly and not the least afraid. They mingle with us.

They make soothing sounds. Forget meditation music…someone needs to put a recorder in their henhouse and make a million dollars. People in the city may never hear these sounds. Trina talks about having chickens and, besides healthy eggs, she said they provide hours of entertainment. They’re restful, but fun, creatures.

They have a few roosters and will be trying to get rid of some of them, but they won’t be getting rid of Thomas Jefferson. Yes, I said Thomas Jefferson. Trina thinks that her rooster looks like Thomas Jefferson. Here’s a picture of one of our most famous presidents…

And here’s Thomas Jefferson, the Rooster.

Trina, are ya sure? Ricky…her eyes are funny…maybe you shouldn’t let her drive. This rooster, however, does have a very high-sounding name for his breed. Salmon faverolle. This breed originated in France and has five toes, really fuzzy feet, and is known to be a great rooster to have near children because of its good nature. In Ricky and Trina’s case, Thomas Jefferson is a pet. Do you know what a rooster does besides fertilize the eggs? You can have eggs without a rooster, but you have to have a rooster to have chicks. He has different crows to alert the hens of danger, food, etc. Some roosters will even catch insects and give them to the hens. I don’t think Thomas Jefferson has given much of his food away. He is huge.

Fat rooster..

Back to the henhouse. Here is an ingenious way to provide water without carrying it every day. We’ve had plenty of rain in southwest Virginia for the past few years. The rain collects in the gutter and goes into the barrel which goes into the the chicken house or into the overflow barrel. Very smart.

The chickens have a promenade of sorts to exit the henhouse. The white piece of wood is pulled back exposing an opening and out come the hens.

They have a series of runs made from recycled pallet boards. Free. Ingenious.

And another shot…

And another shot…

If you are thinking about getting chickens and you cannot afford one of the chicken tractors that you see at Tractor Supply or online, Ricky’s demonstrates that it doesn’t have to be extremely fancy. The chickens need shelter. They need good food. They need 8 hours of sunshine. And I think in the case of the Mendota chickens, you’d be told they need love.