Stood alone on a mountaintop starinâ out at the Great Divide
I could go east, I could go west, it was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw a young hawk flyinâ and my soul began to rise
And pretty soon My heart was singinâ
Roll, roll me away, Iâm gonna roll me away tonight
Finally an opportunity to show how big Gremlin is. Ruby is average-sized for a cat and fits in your lap. Gremlin? WellâŚ
Bald eagle over the Kauffman Center, Kansas City
A wake of vultures on a grain elevator in Sylvan Grove, KS
Bald eagles? (I see two, do you?) 
Could be! I didnât even notice that other bird until I posted the pic.
I debated where to put this because I have a powerful urge to share but itâs a mixed post. I started in âFuck Todayâ because it was sad but ultimately not quite appropriate to post after stories of horrifying human rights violations. Then I thought about âGood Stuffâ because the overall story makes me smile but then thereâs the sad part. Itâs not really in theme with the cuteness overload here but it is about a badass pet, so please pardon the overlong share!
The best rooster Iâve ever known died this morning. Iâm a carnivore and a lifelong farmer so Iâm not often overly sentimental about chickens but this guyâŚ
âŚwas remarkable. They average 7-8 years and he was very near to 15. He was part of the first batch of eggs my wife purchased to incubate when she decided we were going to be chicken people. He has survived four separate near-total flock slaughters (two by raccoon, one by mink, one by weasels). He was one of or the last one standing each time and was always beaten up enough that he had clearly defended to the last of his strength. Iâve seen him charge at a diving hawk. Iâve thought he was dead at least a half dozen times only to pick him up and feel him start moving. He was fierce in his defense of the flock but gentle and friendly to people and barn cats alike.
Two years ago, he had a stroke and stopped making his way back to the coop at night. So we retired him to a converted horse stall where heâs kept company with several litters of newborn barn cats, a few matronly hens, and several generations of our chicks. He stood guard over them all, taught them how to scratch for bugs and/or hunt mice, and sat on them on cold nights. It wasnât uncommon to go out at night and see kittens and chicks under his bulk like they were a natural place to sit.
Weâve joked that he is the Celtic god of cocks for so long we forgot thatâs kind of an inappropriate thing to say in polite company. We have said that itâd take a meteor to finally finish him off, so when I got a text from my wife this morning to say a meteor hit it was really unsurprising and shocking at the same time. I had apparently started to believe he might be the first immortal chicken.
His death doesnât exactly make me sad, so much as it makes me want to write an epic poem to be recited over flagons of mead. Heâd have made a good character on Discworld, I think, so maybe Sir Terry can take a posthumous whack at just such a poem. Since Iâve quite recently commissioned a painting of the old boy, I am very much looking forward to seeing the results.
So long, Chuck. I expect Tir na nOg just found itself inhabited by the baddest chicken to ever strut the yard, and Dagda is probably going to find himself jealous of the swagger.
You kinda did just write an epic poem! I never thought I could tear up over a rooster, but here we are, sawdust and cut onions everywhere. 
What a badass.
So long, chuck!
I had to take the foster kittens and the mama back to the shelter this morning.
Theyâll get spayed/neutered, and then, hopefully very quickly, find their perfect forever homes. 
Iâll miss them! They were a sweet crew.
How much longer does she have to wear the âswimsuitâ?
I am not sure. Weâre taking her to the vet this afternoon. The doctor will examine the healing and say when she will be able to remove the surgical stitches. Itâs been a week since the surgery, so I believe that in a few more days she wonât need to wear this outfit anymore.
ETA:
We just came back from the clinic.
The Vet said the cat is ok. But (there is always a âbutâ) one of the stitches got loose and She will have to redo it ASAP. The vet will call us when She get a date to perform the surgery.
So, it will be a fresh start. The Cat must wear a protective outfit for more two weeks.
Oh dear, poor kitty! Glad the vet says she is ok, though.
Imagine how much worse it could have been if you didnât have the special protector suit for her.
Ripley and Charlie have been suffering through colds they caught recently. No bad discharge, but theyâre sneezy and wheezy the past few days. If it doesnât sort itself by Monday, Iâll look into getting a vet appointment.
Bonus blep. I hope you can see this dark photo, because if I were to turn the light on, the sound of the switch would have woken him.
After getting home, my wife did a Google research and found that The Cat probably got a hernia, and is common in cats that like jumping like a monkey around the bedroom after a surgery.
The Vet said we must no worry about it, but The Cat should undergo another surgery to correct the problem. The question is, how to keep this feline in particular quiet for 15 days?
Yes. The tongue of the cats is like heavy sandpaper. She could had ripped the stitches and get an infection. The stitch that got loose was an internal one. Next monday we will take her to the vet again in order to see what had happened via ultrasound scan.
The alternative to the vest was a collar, like the cone of shame from the Pixar´s cartoon " Up".
I hope they get well soon.
