For anyone who has lost someone

 

This was what White Dog wrote about his death, for me. I've seen so many friends lose mates and others in the past summer, guess it happens more and more as we get up to the autumn of life. So maybe this will help someone.

 

"When you miss my earthly body,

and you need to feel my fur, touch the snow.

When you need to hear me, listen to the wind.

When you crave to see my eyes one more time,

Look at all the other eyes around you.

When you hear a coyote,

it is me guiding them away from the farm.

There is no place I won't be,

so there is no place you can't find me.

I am Here There Everywhere.

In the coming days, rest by the old apple

where my body will be buried in my return to the womb.

It will comfort you,

until you fully embrace my new way of being

in the Here There Everywhere."

~White Dog~

He has arrived...introducing my heart dog...Teddy!

 

I knew it was meant to be. I knew White Dog was helping make this connection. I know White Dog felt my pain after he died. He could feel my pain when he was alive and in death I know he knew I needed something huge, a project.

And the I saw Teddy. And I kept thinking of his face, and I ended up adopting him from the Pyr rescue in Virginia, where they had worked with him for over a year to determine what would be the best job for him. I alos found out when he arrived that his first owner, his only owner, was an elderly woman who lost her husband and she had to sell her farm,, and she sent Teddy tot he rescue. My understanding is he went everywhere with her as well as guard her goats and hens. When I hear his first owner was a loving elder who had to give him up, I think maybe she too had asked the spirits to help Teddy land in the right place.

He arrive yesterday, we are forever grateful for the rescue to have driven him all the way here for a very fair fee. We felt it was best for Teddy, so we are so happy he did. I have a secure suite in barn next to MArcella for him. He did just fine on his first day, and night. I couldn't wait to get to him in morning. When I opened the stall door, he was lying about and at first his face looked sort of sad, but then it's like he remembered me and was happy. I did chores in barn while he ate, and then took him out to equine barn where he can be in field and come and go to see me. He definitely is still wondering where he is, but he's happy. I still don't want to put him in pasture alone until he settles more so he is going out in increments with me.

Today I took him to visit Martyn at work. He rides great! SO great for our healing visits to elders. He is unfased by chain saw and loud sounds too.

He is not White Dog, but there are moments where it is like they both merge in and out-when I look out in field and see him. White Dog was more an explorer, more brave, Teddy seems more like he needs my reassurance. He is not timid in the least, he just loves people.

While White Dog was my spirit dog, Teddy feels like he is my heart dog...and White Dog knew I needed him. He is the dog I need. I was thinking how Bear was going to be that, but once Covid hit, and we got Buddy for Bear, I feel like Buddy and Bear are a team, and they need each other. In time I think they will be possible candidates for visits, but not right now.

Teddy is a stoic guy who simply loves touch. How perfect for our elder friends. Stay tuned. And visit Instagram for an overabundance of videos and photos.

Language lessons of spirit

You learn a new language with the loved ones who depart this earth and realm. It happened with my parents, animals and friends who have left. Just the other day I was cutting vegetables, and I found myself leaning on the sink with my fore arms, slightly bent over as I worked-just like my mother used to do. I smiled and greeted her.

So when I awoke to snow, I said, "White Dog came."

It's our new language, forming. Birdie comes as light delicate flakes, White Dog comes in inches that cover the farm, and his grave. It was so beautifully quiet too. That too is so White Dog, they are shape shifters and he came and went without me noticing as I slept. I read recently that "fresh snow absorbs sound, lowering ambient noise over a landscape because the trapped air between snowflakes attenuates vibratio. That's why it gets quiet when it snows." 

 

 

An intruder comes

 

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I was actually joyful when I looked out and saw the snow. It snowed all day and it felt like White Dog was....Here There and Everywhere. His snow is different than Birdie's snow. It's stronger and more rampant. I am learning our new language, the language we learn after a loved one of any species dies. Some relationships are more human level based, some more spiritual-and White Dog was my spirit dog. In some ways Marcella is too, but White Dog is becasue he came to us in such a mystical way...his mystery he carried with him was always prevelant. I walk over the grave, palms down, and say morning greetings to him. Today I wrote him a note. When I returned to do chores tonight, it was still light and I was a bit agitated to see tracks all around that part of the barnyard. I searched to find a track clear wnough in the 4 inches of fluffy snow. I finally saw there were claws, so it was not a cat or bobcat [cats prints never show the claws]. The prints were quite small so I think it was a fox. I hope to look more tomorrow when the snow has settled a bit. The lobes of a fox sit differently than a coyote or dog. I'm not the best tracker by any means! It upset me becasue Ruthie could be taken by a fox. I was surprised that I never hear Marcella bark from her pig paddock, but she can't run up to that fence so maybe she was sleeping. The tracks were right up to the sheep gate and front of barn where Ruthie often hangs out. It made me miss him, and I was sort of upset the creature walked all over the grave and around it, upset becasue White Dog never would have allowed him on the property but he was right there on his grave. It shows how important his presence was [and is].

I get to be angry: soul work...grief work....you have to do it

Grief is active, it's a process they say, and it is. It is a long project without a synopsis, I guess. White Dog's death -in case you can't tell-is a big loss for me, on so many levels. I was dreading it and now that it is here I was right to dread it because it hurts without him. The barn was his domain, and every creature had their respect of White Dog...even Earnest the pig who almost killed him with the intention of it [ a tussle over dropped food].

But it is a process, I'm familiar with the process, and I have Nature all around me. I got in the studio today, finally [the kitchen remodel has consumed us and my brain just can't focus but I had to take a break from that and be in studio for a few days].

I was talking to a friend about anger, within our grief. And I'm in it! It's funny how anger sneaks up on you and one moment you are calm and the next moment you are yelling at the top of your lungs in the barn at a hose-yes, a hose-while your animals quietly munch hay. That was me yesterday, the hose was not cooperating due to the cold temps, so I screamed at it, and I swore and strung together cuss words at the sky. In fact my anger made Ruthie start fluffing up her feathers and chortling. She wasn't sure why I was mad at a hose but she wanted no part of it.

Don't tell a grieving person not to have anger. If you stuff anger, it will catch up to you. 

It's no a process that is linear. You don't walk through the stages of grief without taking a step back to a previous phase. You don't start with shock, then go to sadness, then anger then acceptance. You are in shock at first, and have moments of shock in the coming months. A photo can set you off. And anger is fluid I think, like love, anger twines around like a snake. You have to acknowledge it because if you are angry at a hose you are really angry about something more important. It's what you do with the anger.

So we get to have our anger. The kitchen remodel has also thrown 'order and control' out the window, but it is getting better [and will be so lovely, I will post pics when it is all done].

One thing I found myself being angry at the other day was the fact that my spirit animals have been taken from me, in succession. Birdie the llama, Opie the goat and now White Dog. All were just beginning their work as healing ambassadors. Opie was able to do that for four years, but White Dog was able to partake  here and Birdie really hardly got going but she was such a natural.

Why did the universe take those animals from me? There's no answer. It's not personal. But it felt like it. So I got angry, at the universe. 

I'm getting used to not seeing him in his body. But every morning I walk past Old Apple, and walk right on the grave and say something as I go about my day. I know exactly how is body is laid out and I know Martyn's shirt is under his head. I know he's okay.

Mister Rogers told us to look for the helpers. I was doing chores in the barn, and was reminded that White Dog was a helper to me. He helped in many small ways-like barking at Captain Sparkle if he pushed a gate open when I was doing chores. He alerted me. He could keep certain animals in line if he knew there was trouble.

Who is my helper now? That is what it feels like in the outer barn. Plus I just miss seeing his beautiful, majestic face.

White Dog is now Here There Everywhere

I am just in deep grief right now. If you follow along on social media you know yesterday we put down White Dog. We will bury him today. I just can't write more about it right now. It's like an entire part of the fields and barnyard are gone. I do believe he is Here There Everywhere like all the other creatures and people who have left the Mother Ship. But as a human left behind, I am faced with deep loss of HIM.

The grief is physical.

 

We get our snow and the ponies run in their bells

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm)

 If you follow on social media you know we have wanted snow, not only for White Dog, but so we can run the ponies. It was a pretty, fluffy blanket, perfect for Captain Sparkles tender feet and he and The Teapot are just pure joy to watch.

The joy is good for us, as we are journeying through White Dog's bone cancer. I write about it extensively on IG and FB so follow the journey there. I can't take enough photos of him. The main thing is I was focusing too much on the physical signs, and thanks to a dear soul sister I realized I was not letting him set the pace for what is to him, a spirit journey. He trusts me, and I must trust him, in our language and communication with one another. I must trust my senses so I can do right by him when the time does come. And that time is not today. One day at a time.

A friend sent me this qoute and it is so spot on with the feelings right now with White Dog. I know tohers who are also facing this in between time with loved ones. It is uncomfortable.

"It's hard to be there, that space between what no longer is and what is yet to be..." 

"It made me feel like I was home again," she said

Yesterday we had another special visit from Cove's Edge including Linda, who is blind and has many health issues, and Pat the Cat [we have dubbed her this as she adores cats and had a house full at one time].

These smaller visits are really what I love, as they allow more intimacy with the elders, and me, and the animals. I was so touched because before they left, Linda called me over and held my hand [touch is very important for her] and handed me a card. She told me, in tears, that the last visit with Biggs and The Teapot meant so much to her and it helped her spirits for days. I read her card later and in part it said,

"The horses and the dog made me feel like I was home again after years. It lifted my spirits for days and I'll always cherish that visit. I enjoyed myself for the first time in a very long time."

This of course is why we do this, to lift them up, to give them something outside of the confinement and lack of independence they are faced with at the residence. As we had our visit, there was a lawn mower in the distance, and geese flying overhead. I realized at the residence they never hear these things, things we all hear and take for granted, and a lawn mower might be considered an annoyance, but to those in the home, it is a reminder of their old life. It must be a continual bittersweet sensation when they think of home.

Pat the Cat at one point said..."So peaceful." I commented that at the residence it is very hard to find a spot of one's own to just sit, and be alone in peace and quiet. She agreed. Pat the Cat is a friendly, nice woman but we all need, and some of us more than others, our time alone to just be with our thoughts.

Such simple things we often take for granted. My work with the elders has enriched my life in many ways-giving me a sense of purpose, but also, it has cemented my simple need to just enjoy what I have, and I do. Sure, I have off days, but today for example I was walking to the end of our property to put up 'No Hunting' signs that had fallen, and I was looking at the fallen leaves. So many colors dotting the ground, they crunched and smelled so good. Imagine being born and the first thing you witness is the pretty colors of falling leaves. I've always enjoyed nature, and good food too, but now, I relish in them. I love taste and smells and the comfort of good home made food. I do not lack, and I do not have a need to want to dine out. I am a content homebody. It could all be gone someday, my life as it is, and my elder work shows me that. Rather than be depressed of that possibility in the future, I shake it off and relish in the moment. 

I am glad I can help them, I wish I could give them their homes again but I can't. 

I was happy White Dog partook in the day too. He had a sore morning, I could tell, and he dd not come out of the barn all morning after chores. I did not want to force him. But right about when they were due to arrive, he perked up and insisted on coming to the gate and he waited. It's like he knew they were coming. Knowing him as I do, I don't doubt he knew they were coming to visit. So in he came. What a healer he is, but of course, now with his bone cancer, these meetings take on a double meaning, a stoic one, a heartfelt and bittersweet one....but I'm so glad he can have this in his final days or weeks.

 

Winter prep, hay in, White Dog love and the book arrived

 That title says it all. I have been so busy and unable to even focus on anything but the farm. Getting winter ready is always a series of tasks any wheere, but especially on the farm-electric buckets, inspecting the fire stoves, equine coats ready, getting the hay in and firewood. We were so behind becasue of the hot, humid summer we added to our firewood by buying one cord. It felt like sacriledge but sometimes you do what you do. We usually do 4 cords or less [we have furnace heat but keep it at 62].

And thanks to the generosity of Martyn's boss, he had the crew come over one afternoon and we got the 12 tons of hay in. Phew. That was a huge load off my mind. I crashed that night and even though I knew how much worry it was causing me, I really knew after it was all stacked. We could have done it on our own, but...it would have been so hard and taken us 4 separate weekends most likely. I can't toss the bales up high anymore due to my shoulders. Thank goodness I didn't need  to get our usual 17 tons since we are starting later this year to give hay. I have to say, it is such tiny hay bales, they are compressed Canadian, very consistent and better protein. So far everyone is eating it even though there is some stem left but nothing horrible. It cost more by about $2.75 a bale, but if it is higher protein I might try to do half and half next year. But getting the one ton pallets here is a task. I don't think its fair to rely on the crew each year. They did it pro bono for us, which was so helpful and generous but I can't expect that.

Anyway, we got so much done this weekend. Little jobs that mean a lot-like getting kindling cut, getting debris out of fields from past jobs, securing some fence issues, and on and on.

And...the book arrived! Friday afternoon. And it is beautiful. The shipping fiasco-they could not find the pallet in the route from customs-was all because of lack of employees and the mess the world is in all over with Covid. So, I will be getting those out to buyers next week.

Mainly, I want more creative time. It seems like my September was full of so many appointments. And now October is looking like that too-truck fixes, over due doctor stuff, many, many vet visits...I am frustrated by the lack of studio time, but I have to say, I think maybe I needed to be away for awhile from it, I don't know. I just started a raggedy creature and this week despite more appointments I hope to have time for it. I'm percolating things in my mind too as I work.

We also had two vet needs arise in two days-Jonathan the elder cat had what might have been blockage but thankfully it was not and meds helped him. It means going back to all urinary cat food, which I always used before but the then-residents of the elder suite just stopped eating it after years. But now I will go back to it soley. And then I had to have the vet out for old Matilda and her chronic lameness. I had searched for an abscess over the past weeks but found none so wanted an x-ray done which we did. But the vet did fine the abscess which had popped. At least I was looking at the right spot but never found tenderness, maybe I wasn't pushing hard enough. Since it was on the bottom of foot we have her wrapped in a boot. She got instant relief I think. We took a blood panel just to have. And I have her up to 5# of supplement versus the paltry 1# what would eat before we learned her levels had changed and we changed her medicine. She is eating much better now.

Such a mundane boring post! But I have been enjoying getting tasks on my list done. Feels good to get prepped for winter. I hope we have lots of snow this year!

She said, "It feels like home."

We had a very moving animal healing visit here at Apifera this past week. Many of you saw this photo, and others, on our other platforms and were as moved by it as I was, and as I was when it happened.

Linda lives at Cove's Edge where we visit regularly, and she went blind from a disease several years ago. The disease also effects her breathing and she is in a wheelchair. You might remember her in photos, pre pandemic, holding little Bear in her lap, she loved it. She loves animals and once had horses and other critters.

It's hard for her in many ways, physically and emotionally and my Girl Friday at Cove's thought it would be nice to get her out on her own to the farm, and I was right on board. I didn't have my assistant equine person but with two caretakers and me, I knew we could handle the horses so I brought in Biggs first. The flies were bad, but she was moved to feel a horse again. And then I asked if I could bring the pony, and of course she said yes. But also, I wanted to bring White Dog in, who is a natural but under the circumstances I knew he too would benefit. And he did. In fact, when The Teapot was getting hugged, White Dog also asked for more.

At some point, Linda said that "It feels like home."

This is why we do what we do. And I've written about it many times. The biggest sadness of the elders in residences is they are not home. They appreciate the care, but it is not home.

We also talked about touch, the importance of it in our lives, and of course to the blind touch is very important, and smell. I reiterated that the animals allow the elders to touch, and be touched, and I also touch them. Many people without even knowing it are shunning elders in their daily lives, almost as if they don't want to look. Linda said it best, "They are afraid they are going to be old too, or like me'. I agreed. None of us want to become non independent. It is a visceral fear.

Linda has been through so much in the past years losing her eyesight, and her husband and her home. For those two hours though, she was free-free of the constant noise in the residence, free of all the activity around her, and she was also free to talk on her own and have a one on one conversation. To know she felt at home, it just was so heartwarming, even though fleeting.

We described all the things around us, the goats wandering, the ducks and  The Goose-who spoke frequently and Linda talked back to him- and the sheep and llamas in the outer fields.

When it was time to leave, she grabbed her two caretakers arms and wanted hugs and she cried, she thanked them over and over for making it happen. We already are planning another visit. I'm hoping we can do it in the outer barn where she can be surrounded by the donkeys and horses. My Girl Friday is on board. It takes a village to care for our elders.

White Dog has bone cancer...we are gutted

It was suppose to be a day of celebration for me and White Dog. But it is not. White Dog has bone cancer.

I took him to the vet this morning to get the stitches out - I was so excited for him to be able to run free again- but while waiting for my vet, I noticed the hind right leg/elbow was larger than the other. This is the foot that was slightly lame before the accident, but there was no swelling and we found nothing wrong with the foot when he was stitched up two weeks ago. Back then we opted not to xray anything because we assumed the slight lameness was from him getting stepped on on his toes a few days before and there was no swelling.

 

This morning after we took the stitches out my vet asked me about the lame foot, and I said the elbow swelled up and it seems like it happened overnight. This can and often is the case with bone cancer, it is aggressive and fast moving. It happened that way with Muddy too. He looked at the leg and, I just knew, he knew...we pretended it could be arthritis, and he went to do an xray. I waited in the front room, praying, but I just knew. When my vet came out holding the xray, he was 20 feet from me, our eyes met and I started shaking my head, as did he. Bone cancer.

 

I know how this goes. We went through it with Muddy, just two years ago. Once you see a lump like this, the cancer is most likely in the lungs and elsewhere. Some people opt to take the leg off, that is a choice they must make about their own situation but we choose not to do that, nor did we with Muddy. I was not expecting this. Since I've been care taking White Dog all these 14 days, I was looking at his wounds and body ALOT. While he still was not putting pressure on that foot, he was not limping, he was able to run, he was eating, and there wasn't swelling.

 

He probably has about 2-4 months.

 

I'm gutted. I just...can't...stand it, I feel physical pain right now.

 

I must watch him and make the decision I had to make with Muddy. He will die here at the farm.

A barn, a filed, a snow storm...without White Dog? It is a hard idea to grasp, and I have not.

To the infamous Miss Careless

Thanks to so many that sent White Dog, and Martyn and I, love and empathy in the past two days since the accident. If you follow us on social media, you know it was our human error after a long day of working on Earnest’s paddock that caused this accident and suffering to one in our care, namely White Dog. We felt his pain and we suffered and still do emotionally. He is on 19 pills a day for 2 weeks, and his two wounds are sore for him, especially the deep buttock area that went deep into muscle.

As I posted online, it was a double whammy to have someone leave a one word comment, “careless”, yesterday on my post. If anything was careless it was her choice of words. Was it careless? Leaving the chop saw out in Earnest’s paddock would have been careless. It was an error…it was a human error. The gate was closed but not secured. After working non stop for the entire weekend to make Earnest's paddock even better than it was (he’d never gotten out in a year) we were tired and we made a mistake. Earnest had a skirmish with White Dog a year ago, in which the wound required stitches. It was caused, as usual, by territoriality over food when I was running White Dog out of a paddock. From that day on, we built a separate hut and paddock for the pig, and his tusks. We also had his tusks cut down by the vet, requiring sedation. But tusks grow back, and those tusks only take seconds to gore an animal.

So to Miss Careless, the writer of the impactful one word comment, if anything was careless it was your choice of word, and the timing of it. Words have power and we all have the right to use them, but we also have a responsibility when using them. I visited your FB profile-there it was full of memes of love and light. But Miss Careless, actions speak louder than memes, and your action spoke loudly of who you are. You are not welcome here, and you are were banned on our other pages. I do thank you though for the $20 donation you made in 2017. 

The discussion amongst my followers-many I'd never heard of and many I had-that came from this was civil and kind, and helpful too. Your comment literally kicked me in the gut that day, the same day I still had blood all over my pants and in my car from White Dog's wounds. I am not so thin skinned that I can't brush off trolls or commenters that are out of line, I usually just walk on by and don't waste energy on them. But your comment deserved attention, and attention is exactly what it got-but it got turned around into good from empathetic people that know that there is nothing careless about what we strive to do here, day in and day out, without pay, without vacations, without help. I doubt you could get by one day here and do what I do physically and emotionally.

Again, thank you to everyone who supported us emotionally. It was important.

Intense moments of being

I was working in the equine paddock while Martyn was putting up boards in the new barn addition-the goal being that the horses won't eat the barn siding. We still have to paint with no chew, a task I hate, I admit.

But I wanted to try to explain this moment, in words. Sometimes it is hard to find the right words to describe a moment that encompasses the past, present and future.

White Dog loves Martyn. He loves men, loves my farrier too. He likes women, but I see his response to Martyn. White Dog has a different relationship with Martyn than he has with me. When Martyn comes out, it is special, where as I am there every day multiple times. White Dog loves to be with Martyn when he works. Sometimes it is problematic, and not so safe if power tools are involved. But this job he was able to be right at Martyn's side...so happy, so content. And I caught a series of photos that slayed me, this one being the most emotive.

It was one of those moments where as you are experiencing it, it propels you to a very spiritual and emotional place, a place of understanding the grace of the moment, the beauty of it, and the fact that it is a moment that is fleeting. It's fleeting because life is fleeting and one day you wake up alone, or in a home, or you lose your mind. I know that is rather grim, but it is the truth we face as we age. It was a moment where in seconds I prayed White Dog would live many more years and that Martyn would stay healthy, and that we would be okay, and be together and not be separated in old age.

The beauty of aging is that you do respect these moments even more viscerally than in your youth. I certainly had many intense moments of realizing I was witnessing something beautiful and profound. But as I add another year in my early sixties these moments just become more profound and special. Sometimes, I hear a voice in my head–my voice–say,

Remember this.

No words

 

Be like White Dog...wolf play!

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Apr 22, 2020 at 8:16am PDT

Can I breathe a sigh of relief now?

Free at last

It has been an actively healing week, but healing is an action and it required a lot of my time and energy. I was relieved I was partaking in healing versus another burial. I really thought Moose was dying Monday, and he would have if my vet didn't come asap as she did [thankful]. That was Monday and today after days of thiamine {we treated him for goat polio which has nothing to do with polio but it is a thiamine deficiency and causes trouble in the rumen and elsewhere} he seems to be doing pretty well. In fact last night I tried to hold and hug him as I have been during his recovery, and he pushed away-a sign the old Moose is back, or reappearing. I am glad for that. Moose has never been a hugger.

On top of that, White Dog got his stitches out on Monday and was free at last to lie in his favorite coat-The Snow. He was so happy to be outside. My vet and I can not imagine him opening it up again, and so far it seems fine and he is not even messing with it.

On Wednesday, Martyn had a birthday and took the day off. It was also Goose the goat's birthday. Goose has been keeping Moose company in the healing suite. He is such a good little chap. He still gives me kisses. I took the birthday boy, sans the birthday goat, out to lunch to Eider's and ran into Remy's to buy him socks. Woohoo! We live everyday like a celebration-good food and drink, sleep, laughter-so it was a nice day.

I was doing chores this morning and watched White Dog go bursting out of the barn to run free. We almost lost him. Just a tish and an artery would have been cut. It's the what if that keeps coming back. I don't dwell on it, but White Dog is one of those spirits that is very strong, and the thought of him gone is just upsetting.

The big wind and rain storm yesterday knocked out power early morning, just after I got all my water buckets filled in the barn-that is the little thing in a day that can make it seem like a good day, the water buckets got filled despite everything. The Wind was so HUGE. The Wind here is full oc ocean, you can just feel and hear it. It is both beautiful and terrifying to me. Out West the wind came from the mountain foothills where we lived, it was beautiful and powerful too, but for me it was more subtle.

I walked back to the house this morning, White dog at my side as he escorted me tot he middle gate-his boundary-and I thought,

I guess I can breathe now.

I think it will be okay for Moose, and White Dog. I think it will be okay.

Goose has been helping Moose

Moose seems to be doing very well after treatment

Well darn it...White Dog back to the vet

The dreaded cone returns

Just two days ago he was free. But yesterday morning sometime White Dog reopened his wound site.

Expletives flew around the barn when I saw it.
ne. I
I knew the good news was the interior skin was healing and looked really good, and it was about 1/3 of the original stitched area that popped open. It was not bleeding. I knew it would heal, but since I had to take Bear in for more shots on Monday morning I opted to take White Dog too. We opted to novocaine the area and clean it and restich that opening. Ben did so good.

So he's back home, on sedation pills again, and wearing the dreaded co'll have him in the barn again for 7-14 days. I'll take him on some short walks to break up the boredom. We've been through too much to take risks. The vet was happy though with the wound area, we just decided after all this why risk an infection.
So keep your hooves and toes crossed that we can get it healed up sooner than later.

"Am I going to get a shot?"

Update: help the new book ...brought to you by White Dog

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Feb 4, 2020 at 9:17am PST

UPDATE: The book is now available at the shop >

I made a big change to the new book-it will now be 4 color, versus black/white. It also means the price of printing shot way up, but I just felt the art and photos were not being done justice,and I want this story to get the respect it deserves. It means a total printing cost has jumped to $10,000. Half of this will be due in March when I send finished files to the printer. My goal is to earn that [and more if possible] by March. Your pre-sales help, as does any extra tip you add. The options allow you to simply pre order books, or get books plus share some extra for my efforts.

I decided not to do a Kickstarter. I have done three and they are exhausting, take my creative energy and give me heartburn. With a Kick fundraiser, if you don't make your goal, you don't get a dime. They also take a cut. I have done three Kickstarters and I do feel that they are worthwhile, but I also feel there is some fatique for them, my Itty Bitty Etta book failed by a small amount. It was right at the 2016 election and I think that really doomed it a bit due to the mood of many of my followers.

So, I have raised about $1700 net of the first $5,000 needed. We are getting there! Thank you to everyone who has helped so far.

The fact White Dog got injured, and almost died, makes this book even more special to me.

The book is narrated by White Dog, I am only the translator. White Dog shares his story of how he ended up magically appearing out of nowhere one day at our farm. Nothing had ever penetrated our fences before. And oddly, we already had Marcella, also a Maremma. This is an unusual breed, and expensive, and there were no breeders anywhere near our area-we drove 6 hours for Marcella.

Along his journey he is helped by Crow, a rabbit and other creatures of Nature. Fully illustrated, and over 100 images of art and photos.

This is my sixth book, the fifth I have self published. I do all the writing/art/editing/shaping/pre-press and use a very experienced off set printer known for creating books. It is a labor of love. Making books is not a get-rich-quick-scheme, in fact, one does not ever get rich making books at my level. But you know me, wealth has never been on my list of musts, unless it is a wealth of animals and Nature in my life–the latter makes me rich as royalty.

"What if?"

White Dog in his healing area, looking sleepy from his sedation pills

The stitches are healing well. We went in last Friday to get the drip line out, and it looked good. I had told White Dog he'd get to be free in his pasture after that, but in my deleriuum on the day of the accident-I'm sure I was told this by the vet– I did not realize he had stitches on the inside too to sew up various muscles and such. It was that bad.

So...White Dog continues to reside in his healing area, and is still on sedation pills and other meds to help in his recovery. All is looking good though. We go in this week to get the outer stitches taken out and then he can go outside again.

I'm still so grateful we didn't lose him.

Life can change at the click of the second hand on the clock. If one dwells on that fact one might just stay in bed avoiding all possible despair or accidents awaiting all of us. The car accident, the plane crashing, falling down the stairs, falling through ice....it's all just one big world of accidents and it is also sitting around after aviding one and asking, "What if?" that can really freak a mind out.

So, on a calm day, sitting with White Dog, secure in is stall, unable to run and tear stitches, it feels safe, for both of us.

But I'll be happy to see him in his element again, and off the doping meds that make him look like a sad pup.

Back from the vet, Marcella was relieved to see White Dog again

Long ago when he arrived I knew someday he might break my heart

White Dog this morning in The Cone of Shame, with Arlo

We had a very serious incident with White Dog {aka Benedetto or Ben} yesterday, and the reality is, we are lucky he is alive. If you follow us on social media you saw the photo at the vet.

White Dog was slashed by Earnest's tusk. This happened once before about a year and a half ago, and it was because they got territorial about some dropped feed on the ground. If you are unfamiliar with a pig tusk, the last 1" or so is literally like a sharp knife. Pigs use their heads to move things out of the way, so they can accidentally slice you without meaning too - I had this happen with Earnest so am always careful when I stand near him-but things can happen.

After that skirmish, I never leave anyone alone with Earnest. We also built him his own paddock and 3 season hut. But in winter, I decided to move him into the interior barn where he lives next to the ponies and White Dog. This way I could keep his water unfrozen, and he'd have company too, and it was warmer.

I often let Ben come running out of his back paddock, through Earnest's paddock, so he can get tot he front field. In winter, the back gate is often frozen. But when I do this, I am careful, and make Earnest stand away. Yesterday as I left the pony stall after chores, White Dog came up from behind to get out of the gate, he wanted to go to his front field to patrol, and as he ran past me, Earnest was there. I don't really know how it started, but it happened fast. By the time I separated them with a rake, White Dog was crying in pain. I have never heard him cry-these are very stoic dogs. He was holding his right foot up.

I got him back in the stall and the blood began coming out in gushes. When it happened before, the gashes were small, and not deep and I could treat them on my own. Maremmas do not like to be messed with when they are hurt or sick, although Ben is better than Marcella. I have a bunch of muzzles I sometimes use, and put one on him, but he got it off fast. So I tried to find the hole and sort of did but the light was dim. I finally let him outside, and the blood was everywhere. In the light, I could see what I was dealing with. A huge 4" or so slit, and wide open, his tissue and more hanging on threads.

It was horrible.

Ben has been in the car once, to get neutered. It is very hard to get him in the car even with two of us, and I was alone. I ran in and called vet hoping maybe he could come to me but he couldn't. So somehow I got Ben in the front floor area of my truck. It hurt him. Blood everywhere. I knew he must be in pain because he allowed me to hold a towel on the open wound. I think the pressure gave some relief.

At the vet he continued to gush blood everywhere. The fist thing we did was take a chest and lung x-ray to make sure it had not been punctured, as that would kill him if he put him under. Fortunately, there was no puncture. So off he went to get put under and shaved. It turned out the tusk, which his about 4", had gone up way farther than I could have seen, and it almost punctured a main artery. If it had, the vet said he probably would have died before I could get him tot he vet-a 15 minute drive.

There were so many thing that could have been worse.

I left him at the vet for the afternoon, and came home to try to settle down. But I was vibrating all day, I just was so shaken. Firstly, I have been so aware about Earnest's tusks and the danger they can present, but even with that knowledge and care, this happened. Shaving them down is problematic, and must be done all the time. Putting a pig under to work on him-I am told by two of my vets-is dangerous [another vet didn't agree]. Some people cut the tusks with clippers, as long as they don't go too deep it supposedly is dead bone, like a hoof trim.

So no matter how careful I am, accidents can happen. We are mulling over what to do to ensure it never happens again. Some of the choices...are hard for me to imagine. I have always been loyal to Earnest. I love the guy. He gave us food when we were sustainable out on our Oregon farm, I wasn't going to leave him when we moved. But...it all seems so daunting right now, so for now...I just want to heal up White Dog.

Martyn was visibly shaken last night. He told me that when he heard, he just was...mad. He didn't want to tell me because he didn't want me to think he was mad at me. He was just mad that it happened to Ben. He told me he was so upset all day, and he realized how much he had come to love Ben, and want him around forever. Martyn has a relationship with White Dog, but the other barn animals are really in relationship with me. He said he just never thought about Ben dying, and he was worried he might not recover. Unbeknowst to me, he went out to barn last night when I was in bed, to check on Ben.

White Dog showed up on our farm, out of the blue. No dog had ever penetrated the fences where are sheep were. And coincidentally, we had a Maremma of our own, Marcella. How he got there is being told in the book I'm getting ready for print, a memoir of White Dog as told by him. But when he did arrive, and he had not yet settled in with us, I told Martyn,

"Someday this dog is going to break my heart."

I always worried he would run from us, not come back or get hit by a car. In the beginning, he did do some run abouts that nearly killed me, but he always came back and he had a lot of land to cover.

But now...as he ages, and is probably about seven, the idea of not having him here is hard to comprehend. Some animals, like people, are bigger than life, bigger than death. White Dog is surely one of those creatures.

Arriving at the barn this morning, there he was, alive. I guess I'm being dramatic, but, I held my breath, the wound was very, very severe, and the vet told me we were very lucky. The drip line that is in the wound, sewn in, will come out Friday at the vet. The wound looked pretty good to me, he is residing in the interior stall, surrounded by the sounds and smells he knows-that is where he wants to be. He actually wants to be outside, but not yet.

I am just so glad he is alive. I try never tell an animal, "Don't die," as it is selfish and unfair to their journey-but I don't want White Dog to ever die. But I know he will, someday, but not today.