FARNIVAL Stories

Last week, I had a hard time reading (and writing) about animals. With Dessie dying, it was just too much. I’d close any Internet page with dog stories and shelved a memoir I started about Barney, a lab-rott mutt. Finally, last night, I dove back into Short Leash: A Memoir of Dog Walking and Deliverance. I didn’t put it down until I finished. It’s a story about a woman that rediscovers her world (and self) because of daily walks with Barney. I’m telling y’all, walking dogs is medicine for the soul, and Gary proves it in her compelling story.

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My sidekick Charlotte and I get bored fast. We’ve been chatting about changing the Farnival’s design for a while now. Yesterday, I sent Charlotte a different picture for the Farnival sign that’s normally at the top of the page, and well, she went a little crazy and remodeled the whole site. She’s so damn bold.

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Adriana La Cerva Armstrong a.k.a Ade was born on June 3, 2014. It’s ironic that she was born to a feral mutt in a bramble bush on Smith Street, yet I know the exact day her eyes opened. I met her when she was one week old, living in a muddy, trash-littered backyard with her seven litter mates. She’s been in my life ever since. It took three weeks of fostering her before I fell in love and decided to adopt her, officially earning the title of foster failure.

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It was the middle of the night. The bedroom fan rhythmically whirled. The window was open, and a soft breeze carrying the scent of honeysuckle blew through the screen. A warm front was moving in from the south. Wondering what had woken me up, I heard Floyd’s tail thumping against the hardwood floor. He sleeps next to the bed.

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Every time I buy dog toys from major chains, I end up spending twenty bucks for two squeaking toys that my freaks effectively rip apart with minutes. I dare any toy maker in the country to send their toughest product to the Farnival and challenge us.

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Last night, I was fast asleep. It was probably midnight. The bedroom window was open because the weather this week has been close to perfection, cool, sunny days with even cooler nights. Dogs were snuggled around my feet and behind my legs. It was like a cocoon of warmth inside our king-size bed.

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Happy, Happy Spring! After fourteen years of living in Tennessee, southern blood must finally be running through my veins because I couldn’t say goodbye to the cold quick enough. Peace out, Winter 2015.

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As you know if you’ve written to me, I try to answer most emails personally, but every once in awhile, I like to answer reader’s questions on the blog. The number one question is overwhelmingly about Dawn, but this week I’ve had several people ask how we feed eight dogs. Do we free-feed, meaning leave food bowls out or feed them individually? The answer is that feeding times at the Farnival are actually very structured occasions.

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I know my favorite canine philosopher Cesar Millan would say that I’m projecting human feelings onto my dog, but Meadow was not happy about her haircut for at least three days. She normally wears her hair long and flowing, but after a skunk sprayed her, we had to shave it off.

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I’m not digging very deep because this throwback is from last week, but I was searching for a reason to post a series of pictures I’m titling Mini Mosh Pit starring Adriana, Tony and a stick:

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Not happy.

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Two weeks ago, a skunk saturated Meadow and Sara with its spray. Meadow got the worst of it by far. After multiple baths using every trick on Google, her fur still smells like skunk. It’s faint but it’s there. Today, she’s getting her beautiful hair shaved off and nobody’s happy about it.

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It’s been three months since Floyd’s knee surgery and his limp has totally disappeared. We had one follow-up with Dr. Au at Blue Pearl Vet, and it was suggested that we come in for another check-up at the beginning of February, but it was an extra $100.00 and precautionary so we decided against it. As far as rehab, we’ve been taking him on daily long, leashed walks and got his hair clipped short so he doesn’t have the weird shaved patches above his tail, on his wrists, and on his rear right leg.

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When we walk in the woods, we let the elder pack members roam free. Because of Floyd’s knee injury, right now, that means Sara and Meadow and occasionally Rosie are the only ones with these exclusive rights. In case you’ve lost count, we currently have eight dogs at the Farnival, three fosters and five family members.

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Snow, ice, and slush have blanketed yards and roads for over a week in middle Tennessee. That’s unheard of in Nashville.

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On Thursday, Nashville’s temperature reached a record low, dipping to 5 degrees. I walked the pack that morning in subzero windchill temperatures, but after four laps on the trail, the dogs were limping, holding up their paws because frozen dingle-balls were stuck between their pads. Afterwards, they spent the day indoors – even shunning the mosh pit – and slept in the sunshine or wrestled on the bed.

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I’ve talked about Boo on this blog before. He’s the deadliest of our three black felines, a twelve-year-old lethal hunter that leaves critter carcasses spread across the property.

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We live in such a rural part of Robertson County, TN that the government doesn’t brine or plow our roads. When a snowstorm hits like it did yesterday, our only hope for clear streets is warm temperatures and sunshine.

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