Horses Need Homes. Any Takers?

From the end of the driveway

I suggested to Don, our friendly neighbourhood accountant, that Everett come in one day and “shadow” him at work, to see if he’s interested in taking up such a career, since it was in his accounting class that my son achieved his highest marks in school. Don agreed and so this morning Everett appeared beside my bed early, wearing the purple shirt and striped tie I gave him for Christmas. With his heavy dark-framed glasses on, he was the stereotypical picture of an accountant already and I had to chuckle. Scott drove him into town, so I've got the house to myself today.

Strange and wonderful lad that he is, Everett seems to love that tie. He’s the kind of kid who wears his shirts with the cuffs fastened and the buttons done up as high as they’ll go. Short-sleeved T-shirt? Never. Shorts? Never. Covered up to the hilt, always. He likes to have slippers on his feet, too.

Yesterday Scott and I drove to Humboldt, the halfway point between here and Saskatoon, to meet up with Kathy P and deliver the organic beef she and her sister have bought from the farm. We were sitting in a restaurant sharing a meal when my cellphone rang to remind me that I was due back home at a meeting on Emil's behalf, one that has been noted on my calendar for weeks already. Oops. I wasn't embarrassed — I'm human, these things happen — but more concerned because this is not the kind of thing I ever do. I rarely show up late for an appointment, let alone forget about it entirely. Particularly after looking at it marked on my calendar so many times.

Oh well. I'll blame it on the menopause, like everything else these days.

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There are half a dozen horses on the farm that need to go to new homes. They are in imminent danger of being sold at auction, which means they'll likely be butchered and made into dog food. If you know anyone who loves horses and might be interested in saving them from this ugly fate, please put them in touch with us.