An Icy View Of My Dad's Place And Our House From The Road - Today
(below) Grandpa Horn and Irish before the UCLA game
Its a snowy wonderland from hell. I woke up this morning to as much snow as we’ve had this year. Enough is enough.
Henry and I spent the day indoors mostly. We’ve been watching TRU TV. “Forensic Files” and “Murder By The Book”. We were watching one when an episode came on about the murder of Mickey Thompson. My dad was happening by and said, “Geez, you know that was so sad, Mickey was a great guy.”
“Grandpa? You knew Mickey Thompson?” Henry was agog.
“Yes, He was going to fund a film I was making, but he was killed before we put the deal together.” My dad replied seriously.
“Do you want to watch this with us Grandpa?”
“No. I know enough about it, and to tell you the truth UCLA is playing in just a few minutes. See y’guys later.”
During commercial I happily went out to the car to get my brand spanking new vacuum cleaner. It’s the little things that brighten a girl’s day. I don’t need jewelry I just want a DirtDevil™.
That’s when I found them Pancho and Lefty were out again. The game. Drat. I was on my own. I didn’t even call, I didn’t want to hear the word no at this moment or I’d scream.
“Henry get your coat, put on gloves and I mean it, put on gloves. We’ve got to get the boys. They’re out again and I am going to have to fix that fence. I can’t take this happening every two and a half minutes.”
Sensing I was on the verge of finding fault with just about anything right now, Henry put the show on pause and quickly got his gear on.
We went and surveyed the damage.
I thought I’d fix it properly and went to get the DeWalt™. “If you don’t do it right it’s not worth doing” pounded in my head. I found the screws, drill bits, a hammer just in case and went down to mend my fence. Henry alternated between holding rails for me, trying to drill, keeping the cattle from going into the street, hammering and playing with Irish.
While the snow fell like something out of a survival film I started pulling the rails down so I could get the thing together. Once done, I placed my drill bit in and started drilling a pilot hole so I wouldn’t split the wood. I wasn’t strong enough to get it all the way through. So I put the screwdriver tool on and put a screw in to finish it off. It split the wood. Henry came running when he heard all the yelling.
“You ok?”
“I’m fine. I’m mad at your father.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not here and I need him and I’m cold and UCLA is playing that’s why. Now go keep Lefty from eating the rhododendron.”
I went back to work. I put the rail back in place and tried nailing. I split the wood. I tried again. I split the wood. At this point, I got a spool of the not shiny wire and began weaving the rails together one after the other. I looked over toward the gate when I saw it move and couldn’t believe Henry had gotten Pancho in with the help of Irish.
“Henry, that was amazing. You didn’t even have any treats.”
“Thanks Mama, it was Irish. He’s a real cattle dog. He stayed behind him and seemed to understand what I wanted him to do.”
Hmm. One in and the fence was done. Well, it might not be right, but it was done. Tom can fix it when he comes in a couple of weeks.
Now for Lefty and we could go get warm. As Lefty came toward me for the bucket of grain I was holding, Irish went into action. He thought he could come from the side and get Lefty in the gate, but it didn’t work. He scared Lefty and he ran full tilt toward the pond. Hungry, he turned around and came back. I scolded Irish and he seemed to understand what he did wrong. It was like hundreds of years of genetic programming had kicked in. He circled around Lefty’s side and came up from behind him slowly. I walked in front with the bucket yelling in my teacher voice “Step Up Boss! Step Up Now! Haw! Haw!” while Irish quietly but closely walked at Lefty’s heels lest he get any ideas. Henry manned the gate and in he went. Huzzah!!!
Henry turned to me and said, "Mama, you need a shower." Covered in mud from head to toe, we put our tools away - or face Tom's wrath later. Fed the goats and Miracle. Gave them fresh water and closed up the barn for the night.
After almost three hours we went inside and watched Mickey and Trudy Thompson get justice.
(my helper)
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