Halloween is a fun time.

Hi, my name is Kitty. Halloween is almost here. I am trying on the costume my owners bought for me to wear on that special night. How do you like it? They said they mulled over dozens of choices before deciding on this adorable get up. I think it suits me just fine. The truth is deep down inside I am an angel, my family said so.

The family is ready for the spooky holiday. The decorations are all set, the candy bowls have been taken from their stored places, and they talk of all the tricks and treats they are planning to have for the young trick-or-treaters.  Me and the dog are not allowed chocolate- oh darn – but we like treats too. We try to avoid the tricks but are ready to do anything for the treats. My favorite treats are salmon or chicken flavored goodies. Dog is hoping for treats too- he likes everything, but dog bones seem appropriate for this Halloween celebration.

Dog is dressing up and going house to house with the children, but I will be sitting here waiting for everyone to come my way. Please bring treats if you are coming to our house. And don’t forget …

We would love to have you share your stories about Halloween with us- all about your pets’ favorite treats and pictures of the costumes you have for your pets.

I once heard ‘Even a fool who remains silent is thought to be wise.’ Well, this may be so if no one ever finds out the truth. Wise and smart would not be the case for Amy and me when we toured Columbus, Ohio in our senior year of veterinary school.

I went to veterinary school to become a ‘large animal’ veterinarian. This actually translated into a ‘horse’ vet because I knew nothing about the dairy, beef,  pigs, sheep and goats, chickens and all the large animal industries. My fellow classmate, Amy, joined me in completing last year rotations. She and I became great friends as we survived senior year.

Amy and I accompanied the instructors who did farm calls. One day we visited a dairy We were real experts at just nodding our heads as if we understood everything being said and everything going on and not knowing that much.

We learned quickly though. The dairy cows spent most of their day out on pasture. When it was milking time, they would line up and walk into the ‘milk parlor’ – something akin to the living room we guessed. The milk parlor was a concrete floor with a large recessed area in the middle – something like a dugout in baseball. This is where the farmers stood – literally at ‘udder level’ and, as the cows came in, lined up, and began eating at large troughs at their particular stations in the parlor, they attached the milking apparatuses to each cow’s udders.

After giving many gallons of milk, that was collected into a ‘bulk tank,’ the cows were released back to the pasture. The next bunch of cows would repeat the process. The cows knew the routine. The milk collected in the ‘bulk tank’ was picked up and transported to dairies for processing-  so we all ‘got milk’ and butter and yogurt and cheese and other dairy products.

During the milking this particular day, Amy and I watched the process quietly in the ‘dugout.’ The farmer and our instructor were talking. Suddenly, everyone was quickly moving out and away from the cows except Amy and me. We just stood there, wondering where they were all going.

All of a sudden we were being splattered with the splashing of soft, pudding consistency, cow patty manure. It was hitting Amy and me in the face and getting all over our coveralls. What everyone else noticed – that she and I did not – was the cow gave advanced notice of the impending droppings. She lifted her tail. Apparently no one thought they needed to let us in on this little secret. We looked like the newbies we were. Everyone laughed as we tried our best to clean up.

Another day, we decided to ride with the zoo veterinarian. He was called to the reptile building. Amy and I didn’t care much for reptiles.  We stood behind the zoo vet motionless in the building as the handlers brought legless lizards and assorted other reptiles to the veterinarian for examination and care. We did not touch anything. All of a sudden we heard an alligator hiss. It sounded like it was right behind us! She jumped, I jumped, and everyone else started laughing, “A little nervous are ya?” they asked. Our cover was blown. We were petrified and we believed for that moment that gator was on our side of the wall it was actually behind. Amy and I just shrugged and called it a day. Newbies we were. We managed to complete all our farm and zoo calls.

Nothing is more fun than a new pup. Madeline was a Golden Retriever pup that came to me many years ago. I called that little yellow ball of fluff my ‘Princess Madeline.’ She quickly became part of the family and seemed to just know what to do. She grew to be beautiful as well as smart. I wanted others to have a Madeline of their own too. So I planned to make her a mommy.

Madeline had three litters of pups for me, totaling 30 pups. Her first litter came one Christmas eve. I was working as a nurse that evening when I received a call she was beginning to have her puppies. I arrived home just before midnight and she was nervous, so she and I spent the entire night together on the kitchen floor delivering those 10 beautiful babies. She seemed so confused each time one would come along. I assured her it was all ‘ok’ as I helped her with each pup. She woke me each time the next new addition arrived. She quickly caught on to motherhood.

Her next litter was easier. She was experienced then. These 10 were darling as well. She made many families happy with these sweet little ones.

She had her third litter after we moved to our 30 acre farm in North Central Ohio. The apartment we lived in was small, so I had her and the pups stay in the barn in a pen designed for fair ducks, but large enough to house her and the pups. When it came time for weaning, I began finding the pups homes. It was amazing how the perfect people came along to take each one of the pups. One by one, new owners took the puppies  until the last pup was sold. Afterward, I could not find Madeline. I looked and looked. When I searched the barn, I found her in the pen all by herself sitting there looking at me as if to ask, ‘Where are the babies?’ It broke my heart to tell her they were all gone.

Madeline was not only the mother of thirty pups, she was my best dog and the caretaker of our farm. She kept all unwanteds from the barn- the skunk, raccoons, ‘possums, fox, coyotes, and most of all, the groundhogs. She knew the difference between my domestic rabbits and the wild rabbits in the yard. She never harmed my bunnies that ran freely around the barn- she actually protected them. There were times she would come into the barn and I could see little legs hanging from her mouth. They were little wild bunny legs. I scolded her and told her she was not supposed to hurt them. She would wag her tail and smile as if to say, ‘But they are soooooo good mama.’ I could not be mad at her. She also brought home deer parts hunters left in the woods behind our farm. These little quirks disturbed me greatly and I was unprepared for them because I was a city girl. Suddenly, we were farmers – imposters actually- and here we were on a farm in the country. She was doing things farm dogs do that she would never do in the city. She was having a blast while I was saying ‘ick.’

She not only watched over the barn, she made friends with the neighbors and was the hit of the neighborhood. As always, there is a time to say hello and a time to say good- bye. As Madeline advanced in age, she developed tumors that could not be treated. One day she and I were alone in the barn. I cried and hugged her. I thanked her for being my dog, for always greeting me when I came home, for making all the other animals safe and protecting the horses in the barn and all of us. I told her she was always dependable and meant more to me than I could even tell her. I told her how she made my life so great and happy and what a good girl she was. Then, I said good-bye.

It’s always part of the deal. The more we love, the more it hurts when the time comes to say good- bye. I realized the only other option was to never love, but I did not choose that option. I have the memories of a lovely creature that came into my life and made it better. These memories make me happy.

Please feel free to share your stories with us about your most wonderful pets and the memories that make you happy every time you think of them.

When I was a young girl, I dreamed of owning a horse. I read all the Walter Farley horse stories and cherished every page, however, I was the second child of six and my family did not have money for the luxury of a horse. I dreamed anyway. Each Christmas I told my parents I was certain this would be the Christmas I would find a saddle and bridle under the tree and directions to the barn where I could find my new horse. Each Christmas there were toys and clothes and other gifts, but no bridle and no saddle.

I rode every time an opportunity came along. Then, the summer before my last year in nursing school, while just sitting around in my room, I said to myself, ‘I am going to buy a horse today.’ And I did. I bought a quarter-type mare named Lady.

What I did not know was that Lady was ‘spoiled.’ She was not well mannered and could be very unpredictable. She would quickly jump as if afraid of objects and could turn on a dime. I did not have the skills needed to ride when she twisted her body this way or spun around on her back heels. I was convinced she did this to throw me off her back. I was afraid of her and would drive home after trying to ride her crying, ‘I bought a horse I cannot ride.’

Once,  when attempting to ride Lady around the grounds she was stabled at, she began to rear and move quickly from objects we were passing and scared me so badly I dismounted and tied her to the fence with her bridle on- a real ‘no -no’ in riding. I went back to the barn to ask someone to get her because they were not afraid of her. As I shared my fears with a friend at the barn, he assured me I would be riding her everywhere in six months. I did not believe him, but he was right. I did learn to control her and ride her erratic movements, but she was not much fun and I wanted a horse I could enjoy.

I found a thoroughbred who was easy to ride and loved him immediately. He was kind and rode quietly and was a delight in every way. I was amazed when Lady pinned her ears and showed her teeth as I rode him past her stall. She never gave me the impression she knew who I was, that she knew I loved her, or that she loved me.

One sunny afternoon, a friend and I decided to ride the horses to a nearby park several roads away from the barn. He rode Lady and I rode the thoroughbred. I trotted ahead of them – across a large field as a matter of fact- when I realized she dumped him and was running full speed – riderless with stirrups flapping in the wind- in the direction of the barn. I was frantic because all I could image was her being hit by a car or falling in the street with slippery metal shoes as she ran furiously down busy streets and across main roads to get back to her barn.

I started screaming, “LADY” “LADY, COME GIRL.” To my surprise, she stopped, looked my way, and began running full speed in my direction. I continued to call her name and she came right to me and the thoroughbred. Relief is a word. Love is another word. She really did know I was her owner and the one who cared for her and loved her. I saw her differently after that day. She became my Lady.

Share your story when you had a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

I have only fished a few times- and that was when I was a young girl. Recently, my brother-in-law, Rick, has asked me fish with him.  He was injured in a motorcycle accident 8 years ago, so he has taught me to put the leaders on, the hooks on, the bait on, the sinkers on, and tie the knots, cast, and open and throw the bail. He has educated me on test line- and needing large enough fishing line to keep the line from breaking if we caught something. I probably don’t know enough to do all these things, but how does one say no to a paralyzed man? When I went to the store to purchase items, it was helpful when the young men fished in salt water themselves. Lost is a word for me.

I often wondered how he could enjoy fishing. It seemed he was not able to do all the things necessary to fish. Nevertheless, we rigged a holder on his wheelchair to hold the rod after I cast the line into the ocean on the Daytona Beach pier we are on.  He is so happy to sit on the pier for hours waiting patiently for a nibble.

I realize it is the social interaction that happens on the pier when Rick fishes. He loves to be around others enjoying themselves and fishing is something he enjoys too. The sound of the water coming in is pleasant and the pelicans fly by continuously – they spend their mornings as master fishermen themselves. Rick has some limited ability to reel in a fish in the event we catch something. He and a friend told me they actually did catch a fish one day, however, I think I require proof of this.

The true fisher story of this tiny little striped fish on the line I am holding is that we fish for hours without catching anything. When someone fishing on the pier catches a fish, we ask if we can hold it and take a picture so we look like we caught the little thing.  Rick holds the pole, I hold the line, and we both pose for the picture.

It’s a great day at the beach.

Share your most exciting fishing story with us.

I raced harness horses for many years. It was a fantastic time in my life. There has been little to compare to the thrill of one of my horses crossing the finish line first.

My favorite place to race was the county fair. I looked forward to fair season every year. Not only was it easier to race there, and I felt closer to the race since the tracks are close to the barns we stabled at, but the entire fair itself was enthralling.

Once my horse and her equipment were unloaded, she was settled in her stall, and I retrieved her warm up pad with her number on it, I made my way to the fair.

The sounds of clanging and the rides going round and round were all around me. As I walked down rows of game booths and food stands, the smell of the ‘fair food’ invited me to partake. What would I have today? I enjoyed the gyros, funnel cake, and french fries covered in vinegar- to name a few of my favorite great greasy fair foods.

I visited each building. As I visited the Arts building, I saw all the ribbons awarded before the fair opened. The blue and red and other ribbons were displayed on the wining pictures, quilts, pies, cookies, cakes, and artwork the locals brought to the fair. I loved seeing what and who won first prize. Once I entered my own cross stitch piece. I wish I could say I won a blue ribbon, but we’ll get on with this story. It was just fun to participate they tell me.

Each fair I made sure I stopped by the 4-H building to see the vegetable art the children displayed. They brought gourds dressed as farmers and carrots with faces painted on them. Watermelons decorated and some with faces carved out like Halloween pumpkins were also some of my favorites creative additions to the fair. I always thought, ‘These kids have talent.’

The fair that was the blue ribbon winner for me was in Lancaster, Ohio. This fair had all the usual buildings and displays, but this fair was my fair to remember. As I strolled through the poultry building, I was fascinated. The 4-H er’s were preparing their chickens and roosters for show. Some girls had just given baths to their white hens. They were the whitest I had every seen. Then, using blow dryers, proceeded to dry them. I stood watching and was speechless. These young girls waved their blow dryers over the chickens as the chickens submissively and agreeably let them. Their little eyes were half closed as the warm air blew at and over them. Their feathers blew under the flow of air coming at them as they were primped for show. They seemed to be enjoying the whole process. While I was quite amazed, these 4-H er’s seem to be saying, ‘just another day at the chicken and rooster show.’

On the other side of the poultry barn, another amazing site awaited me. A young man had his rooster on a stump. He was working diligently cleaning the grooves in the rooster’s feet with a toothbrush- he had to be perfect for show of course. As this young man worked, what I found amazing was the rooster was not being held, he was just standing still, letting his young owner clean his grooves.

After enjoying each fair, I focused on my race horse. It was her turn to have my undivided attention. I brushed her, put her equipment on, warmed up, and then sent her to the start line. We were off! The race ran and sometimes we were even first across the finish line. Sometimes it was just great taking part in the sport- so they say.

I am looking forward to you sharing your favorite summer or fair or chicken or 4-H story with us. I know everyone’s been to the county fair.