The Gang's (Almost) All Here

Here we are, it is about 5 AM, looking north at dawn over the sleepy little town of Forest Grove. As providence would have it, once again, on top of one of the tallest hills around, except for the Coastal Mountain range to the west, I still live in the sky. Clouds all around, I see 'em comin' and goin' for miles.

I'm missing one photo of our girl Opal, a cattledog mix who is white with lots of black spots, has her tail, and is a sweeeeeet girl. But I'll add her later, I'm in town for once, dammit, and taking advantage of it to WRITE ONCE AGAIN!!!

We are halfway between Portland and the coast off Highway 26. Here are views out of the back of the barn, one east, one south, one west:































You can see the hill is covered with raspberries. Over that hill are another 50 acres covered in strawberries and orchard grass, the owner leases all this land out to various people who farm the berries and horse hay. Speaking of which, I'll introduce you to the gang. I hope the pics come out in order...


Softie, 37 year-old half-blind man; Davy, 27 year-old ex-racehorse, both gentlemen. Heart, 25 year-old ex-racehorse, and Snoopy, 12, and about 2000 lbs. His brother was an Equine Olympic Champion, and all he got was the free T-shirt.
Lizzy, just came off the racetrack at 5, slightly insane; and the boys, of course, enjoying company.
Gracie, 3 years and full of piss n vinegar; not as much as her 3 y.o. brother Monty, however. He chews with the roundest jaw circles I've ever seen in a horse. Perhaps I'll get a video.




























































































Then of course there are the other HUMANS


















Celeste and her over-joyous bowl o' berries, and Clare with her T-man. We think he is 1 yr old.


















The ever-colorful Marianne: 17, beautiful, and pissy as ever.

One night, on a long night walk, Clare and I came across a young cat, very friendly. We thought at first she belonged to one of the few country houses we had been passing on this long longely road in the full moonlight. She started to follow us home - I swear she would have gone all the way home with us, but just couldn't keep up. Eventually she left off in a field somewhere along the way. She kept mewing, and as we got more distant my heart began to break... then the howls of the coyotes started up, and all the dogs of the neighborhood began to chime in... I was going to burst for fear. What had we done? A lost cat follows us somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, only to become food because she wanted to be with the humans...

As soon as we stepped foot onto the farm soil, I told Clare... "You know I'm going back, right?" "Yeah." So we hopped in the truck and drove where we last saw her, parked and started calling. Sure as shit she came out of the bushes, mewing and kneading the ground for happiness, it seemed, at being found, and even loved. She didn't like to be picked up. And the claws were needle-sharp... which meant only one thing. take off the hoodie and wrap it around her, and bring her back to the barn. Which is exactly what I did. She has been here a week now, and is the softest, most lovey kitty I have ever seen, and never fails to meet me at the barn even after sleeping in the walnut trees at night (which is how she prolly survived her maybe 8 months of being a stray) - she is Barn Kitty. Til she tells us her real name.