Pepper Is Sprouting Taller Each Day

Little puppy Pepper is growing into adolescence. He's all gangly and leggy, and a bit clumsy at three months old. He has stopped nipping at our hands when petted. He still takes a nip at Jack, in their playful shenanigans.

Farmer H's favorite antic of Pepper's is when he steps right over Jack's back. Pepper is almost tall enough to do it, but gets stuck. A couple days ago, it happened on the side porch when I came home, and Farmer H was sitting there with the dogs. 

Pepper had three legs over, but his right rear leg was stuck. So he was kind of perched on Jack's back. Then he turned to take a nip at Jack's ear. Jack objected, but couldn't get turned to nip in return, with Pepper resting across his back like a saddle. A growl, and running out from under Pepper, solved the issue.

On Thursday, Farmer H came out to get his tractor for HOS (Farmer H's Oldest Son) to use for some yard work.

"I stopped over in the BARn field, and Pepper come runnin' up to me as fast as he could. He slammed right into my leg! That made him flip over, and he started yelpin' like he was really hurt. Stupid dog!"

"Well, he was just happy to see you. He loves you."

"Yeah, maybe."

We thought Pepper must have learned his lesson about running and stopping. He'll be more careful, getting used to his bigger, faster body. Maybe he's not learning as fast as we anticipated.

Saturday, I was rounding the Juno house corner of the porch, leaving for town, when I heard the dogs coming. They lounge in the sun on the front porch until they hear me slam the kitchen door. Then they come running for their snack, which I toss down at the top of the steps.

Pepper was in the lead. He came barreling at me and SLAMMED into my left shin, a few inches below the knee. Good thing that's not my worse knee, and that I was able to grab the corner of the house. Pepper didn't yelp. But he got a stern, "Pepper! NO!" It made enough of an impression that he stopped jumping, and got behind me to follow me to the steps. Where he danced on his hind legs waiting for the snack, careful not to touch me.

I hope Pepper gains some coordination soon. These old bones can't take a beatin' like they used to.

If You Try Sometime, You Just Might Find, You Get What You KNEEd

Thursday morning before I left to pick up The Pony to get our early Easter Dinner side dishes prepped, I fired up HIPPIE to send another note to my NP's office. Concerning my lack of an appointment to deal with my leg issue that's preventing a knee replacement. An appointment that was first mentioned on MARCH 9. Which I have contacted several staff about, 3-4 times. 

It had been 3.5 weeks since the mention of that appointment, with no appointment in sight. And me due to go back to see my NP in a month to see if this intended intervention was helping.

I scrolled down through my emails to get the most recent YourChart notice. That's the easiest way to log in, through an email with the link. The most recent was when I saw that I had a new charge, and had gone online paid $48 for the x-ray at the orthopedist.

Imagine my SHOCK when the YourChart screen opened, and I saw an order from my NP about a referral to Occupational Therapy "on or about April 9."

What was THIS all about? Why had I not gotten a YourChart notification when it went in? The date on it was March 26, which was the previous Thursday. The only thing such as this that I'd seen previously was in my actual chart, the summary from my NP appointment on March 9, where there was a mention of a referral to the Wound Care Clinic with an ending date of April 9.

You may recall that I had called the Wound Care Clinic myself, and was told they didn't handle my issue, and that they'd talk to my NP and then somebody from Physical Therapy would call me to make an appointment. Which had not happened...

Anyhoo... I could not understand from this notice what I should be doing. When I'd click on the "more information" part, it would only say something like "contact your facility." I'm not sure of the exact wording, and don't want to go look it up again. But I didn't know if I should be calling my NP, or the Occupational Therapy office, which I could not find anywhere on the clinics associated with my hospital/clinic.

So... I called my NP's office. The Gal was very polite. I explained I had seen that notice, but didn't know what to do, and I had reached out several times trying to get specific information. The Gal said she was in my chart, looking over my past questions and answers.

"Please give me a minute to read through these. I see. Here are two numbers for you to call. The Occupational Therapy office, and the Wound Care Clinic. Now I want to go check and make sure what is intended. Okay. Thank you for being so patient. Go ahead and scratch off the Wound Care Clinic. You should call the Occupational Therapy office. They will give you an appointment to come in for an evaluation. Then they will set up appointments with you as needed."

"Can you tell me where that is?"

"It's right here near the hospital. Let me give you the address."

"Oh. I know that area. Thank you so much! You've been the most helpful person I've talked to!"

Now I have a plan. I was running late to pick up The Pony and get on with our day. Besides, it was Thursday, with Good Friday being the next day. I supposed the OT office would be closed. I will be calling on Monday to see when I can go. Of course, I'll have to make sure it's not a day when Farmer H has his MRI for the collapsed lung/pneumonia issue. 

The Universe would have a heyday if those two appointments coincided.

A Round Of Do-Gooding On The House

Thursday evening, I drove The Pony home after we got part of our side dishes ready for our Easter Dinner on Friday. I stopped by the Gas Station Chicken Store to get my scratchers. As I walked around the corner of the building, I saw a late-20s man talking to an older man at the pumps. They were quite jovial, in good spirits.

Young Man turned and started towards the door at the same time I was getting there. He held the door open for me. I thanked him and hobbled inside. I stepped to the side of the counter, and told Fave, 

"Let him go ahead. He was before me, and held the door."

"Thanks. I just want to pay this $10 for gas. I was broken down behind the high school, and that guy came along and stopped to help me!"

"Oh, really? Give him these tickets. Tell him they're on the house, heh, heh!" Fave tore off a bunch of the red tickets that gas customers can use to enter the weekly drawing to win $30 of gas. The number they get depends on how much they spend on gas.

So we all did a good deed that day!

Young Man held the door open for me.

I let Young Man go ahead, because it was the right thing to do.

Old Man had stopped to rescue Young Man on the road.

Fave gave out a bunch of drawing tickets to reward Old Man.

Speaking (Two Days Ago) Of Parties...

We had a flier in our mailbox on Monday. In true Farmer H fashion, he did not bother to read it. Just put it down on the table with the rest of the mail.

"Hey, did you see this? Looks like they're asking for money again for the road gravel."

"No. I didn't see nothin' about that."

"You might want to look at it. It says it's the "Annual Gravel Fundraiser." Our neighbors across the road are hosting a BBQ at the end of April, and they're asking for donations for gravel. They're having hamburgers and hot dogs, and say to bring a side dish. I'll make something if you want to go."

"I don't want to go. I'm too old to hang out around a bunch of drunks. I don't like most of the people out here now."

"Well, we'll give money for the road."

"Yeah. I'll give it directly to Neighbor."

"That way when the drunks start complaining about how 'The Hillbilly family never shows up or donates nothin',' Neighbors can say, 'Oh, they already gave us their money.' I don't know how much it is these days, but we'll give enough for a load of gravel."

"It's $250! Neighbor [from next door] got a load yesterday. That's why he borrowed my tractor, to spread the gravel. Didn't you see it?"

"That seems like a lot. Who did he use? I DID notice some lighter color small gravel down by the creek."

"He called me askin' who I use, but he ended up callin' around and said that $250 was the cheapest he could get. Funny how I don't remember him never donatin' gravel money before."

"Well, he DID do the work of spreading the gravel. On your borrowed tractor..."

"Yeah. The last time we got gravel, it was $165. But it's gone up."

We like both these neighbors, and the one down the hill. That's about it. The other people are newer, not the same as when we all moved out here 25 years ago. They are the hard-headed people who don't want to listen to Farmer H's ideas of how to improve the road. I doubt they will kick in much of a donation for gravel. They seem to think "other people" are responsible for that.

More Training Is Needed

No. We're not talking about new puppy Pepper. We are talking about Farmer H. Oh, how I had hoped he was successfully trained to notify me of impending visitors of his doing. 

Even though I found out by eavesdropping in the right place at the right time about the stranger coming to get the file safe, I was fairly confident that this matter would not concern me. I heard Farmer H myself, telling that guy on the phone our address. In fact, I even asked why he was giving our address to a stranger. Well! Because "he's never been here before, HM." 

Silly me. I thought surely the matter of this file safe had been discussed before. After all, the phone call was just to specify the time. And give the guy the address.

Here's the deal. Farmer H was home around 3:00, carrying stuff in the Mansion, and saying that he had to go over to his Freight Container Garage to meet the stranger at 3:30. Off he went. I don't know if he drove the Gator or SilverRedO, because I didn't watch. I went to lie down for my 20-minute nap before town. 

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP!

What in the Not-Heaven???

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP!

That was the front door! About 10 minutes into my nap. Good thing I use my phone for an alarm, and had it right there on the bed. No way was I getting up to hobble to the front door and greet Farmer H's stranger. I called Farmer H.

"Somebody is over here banging on the front door."

"Oh. Huh. I guess I'll come over."

You'd think Farmer H would have mentioned to the stranger that the file safe was in an outbuilding. Tell him he'd be over by the BARn, which is big and red and can be seen from the gravel road as you go by headed for the driveway, whereby a metal pole holds our address. Farmer H could have just told the guy to drive directly into the BARn field from the road. Then they could greet each other and get the file safe loaded.

Clearly, Farmer H needs instruction on how to give strangers instructions for showing up to buy his junk.

The Mansion Is Party Central

Let the record show that Mrs. HM enjoys a quiet, peaceful life. I'm fine with not having visitors. In fact, I don't WANT visitors. I like my routine. Don't come a-knockin' on my door looking for hospitality.

Farmer H is a people person. He likes interacting. He's probably in the dictionary (remember those?) as an artist's rendering, next to gregarious. Farmer H never met a stranger. And most often, what's his is theirs. Except for money. But you may recall the trailer-lending ending. Twice.

Because Farmer H has a penchant for inviting people to partake of his junkalicious bounty, he is under strict orders to LET ME KNOW if somebody will be popping up at the Mansion. He's been pretty good about that lately.

Monday was Party Central day at the Mansion. At least I got texts.

9:04 a.m. 

"Neighbor is going to use the tractor"

Okay. So I knew that when Jack started barking and running over to the BARn, there was a logical reason. Nobody was stealing one of Hick's tractors. It was just being borrowed. Neighbor had permission, and wouldn't need to bother me.

10:08 a.m. 

"HM HOS [Farmer H's Oldest Son] is looking for mushrooms in the woods"

Okay. HOS had been a bit estranged until the past couple weeks. I don't know his current vehicle. So when Jack started barking and running over to the BARn field again, it was only HOS, and not some stranger prowling around in the woods.

3:30 p.m. 

A complete stranger was coming to the Freight Container Garage. Farmer H didn't text me. I overheard him the night before, making the deal. Supposedly Farmer H knew a relative of this guy, and he was getting some kind of file safe that Farmer H didn't need. I'm sure there was a sale or trade taking place.

That let me know I shouldn't be concerned if I saw somebody parked over in the field by the Freight Container Garage when I went to town. They weren't breaking in and stealing Farmer H's treasures. They were waiting to complete a deal with Farmer H.

We might have to put in a roundabout if we're going to have so much traffic...

Pepper Must Have Been Listening Outside The Door

I had everything ready for my "training session" with little puppy Pepper. The squirt bottle of water had been set on the counter by the door, ready for use the next day. I told Farmer H of the plan, and how to be brief with a "Pepper! NO!" and not give a wordy lecture. All systems were GO.

Sunday, I started out with my purse on my arm, a grease-bread treat for each dog in hand, and the squirt bottle in my elbow. It was ready for quick-draw with my empty left hand. I went past Juno's dog house (now used by Jack and Pepper) and around the corner of the porch. I could hear Pepper gallumping toward me from the front porch. Jack is more of a slow trotter.

I drew the squirt bottle, ready for action. Little Pepper stopped by my right side. Stood on his hind legs, hopping. He didn't put his feet on me! I proceeded to the top of the steps. Tossed each dog a treat. Went down the steps as Jack carried his off to the front porch, Pepper sniffed, came to me, then went back to crunch his treat.

"See you later, alligators!"

I opened the people door of the garage. Got my squirt bottle ready. But Pepper didn't run in! Pepper came down the steps and sat on the sidewalk, watching with his head tilted as I closed the people door. Well! That exercise was a bust! Pepper ran back up the steps and went looking for Jack. I opened the people door and set my "weapon" on the shelf of the side porch.

When I got home, Farmer H carried in groceries. Pepper came in the garage, then followed him out. And all the way to the kitchen. Inside, actually. I could hear Farmer H telling Pepper, "No. Go back out. Mom's not in here now."

I used the time to pet Jack on the side porch. I had picked up the squirt bottle again. Here came Pepper. He sat down beside Jack. Pepper didn't bite at my hand or wrist! Just sat to be petted. Didn't even squirm as I was trying to loosen his collar. But THEN, Pepper jumped up on Jack's shoulders, and took a nip at Jack's ear.

"PEPPER! NO!"

I gave a squirt, but Pepper was already running towards the kitchen door because he heard Farmer H coming. The water barely sprinkled across Pepper's back as he was in retreat. He turned to look at his back, puzzled, then went on his way.

I swear, Pepper must have been listening at the door the previous day, when I told Farmer H of the plan!