In nineteen eighty-nine I got married for the first time. My
then wife had a dream. She wanted to buy dog kennel. She was a groomer, so this
sounded like a good idea. I supported her like a good husband should. I had one
role and one role only. Clean shit.
Doggy do do
My job at the kennel was cleaning dog shit. Every morning, I
woke to shit. Dog shit and in-law shit. I was glad to have my part-time sales
job. It got me out of shit. If only for a little while. They needed me to get a
full-time job. So, I looked for a new job. I needed to get out of shit with
mother mafia or at least not see her as much. What persuaded to work, or should
I say, who persuaded me to work at a greenhouse/petting zoo? Yup, my ex-mother
in-law. Why I applied to be a farmhand, I will never know. Apparently,
for the comedy of errors that would soon follow and this opportunity to now
write about it.
Do this. Don't do that
The name of family-owned enterprise I will not divulge. I
didn't matter, I had a new job. This meant I had new hope. The hope was
that by the time I got back home the wicked witch of the west would be gone.
Wrong. She practically lived at our house. But that's another story. Back to
the job.
Power struggles
I was clearly a rose between two thorns. The thorns being
the father who owned the business and son who was my boss. I experienced the
power struggle firsthand daily. I would receive my instruction from the son,
and I'd start to work. The father would walk by a pull me away to do another
job. The son would give me shit and remind me that I worked for him. So off I
went again. Surprise. "What are you doing? You haven't finished the job I
gave you" barked Pops. This was a constant battle. Hey! It was full-time.
And I got in shit, full time. Oh, speaking of shit.
Watch the too late
One of my jobs was cleaning goat pens, the emu pen and the
horse stall. All conveniently located under one roof. I wasn't very good at
backing up the wagon with the tractor and smashing the door frame was just
something I did. One day I finally cleared both sides of the frame. I was
feeling pretty proud of myself. Then I heard the high-pitched sound of
Naaaaaaaa. I ran over a goat. I quickly pulled forward to free the animal’s
leg. Nothing broken I was relieved.
Getting shit together
I had a simple system. Clean shit, pile shit, cart
shit away. Sounds simple enough. It would have been if the animals didn't get
in my way. Enter the curious habits of goats. These wall climbing creatures
found a way to climb a peanut dispensing machine (now use for feed) and deep
throat it until their tongue got stuck or something fell out. I get it, they
didn't have thumbs or a bag of quarters. And just for a bonus. One would
find a way to hop off the top of the wagon into the stall I was almost done
cleaning. Obviously for a couple reasons. One, to bite my ankle and two,
number two. The emu could hear the commotion decided to look in. "Hey! I
got poop too" He did have a height advantage. I could see the fowl
creature through the chicken wired window. I was caught in a stare down at eye
level. I didn't know it but he was plotting his next move.
Ruffled feathers
Our fine feathered friend the emu might have been feathered
but he was no friend. I remember that emu surprising a small girl once. The
girl must have been wearing feathery parka because Mr. emu though she was a
Miss Emu. He got down on his knees and tried to, well I rather not say. I had
to chase him away. Emu's must be like elephants because he didn't forget. One
day I was cleaning his pen. Like most days just for fun he'd walk by and peck
me in the back of my head as a pay back for not letting have his way with the
parka. I want to state here my getting even was never premeditated. I cleaned
his pen, and he ran in and as he ran in, I slammed the door. The emu seeing the
kind if food that was offered, wasn't happy with it, turned around to exit just
as the door slapped him in the neck. That was the day the emu got a turkey neck
because he spent the rest of that day shacking it. I remember pointing at him
and saying, "serves you right" There where still many jobs to do. One
was making apple cider. Making apple cider sounds like fun and it can be. Not
the way I remember it.
Stampede!
Getting rid of the leftover apple cider pulp was a fun time.
The buffalo or beefalo whatever they called them, could smell the cider making
process and couldn't wait for that wheel barrel full of smashed apple goodness
to arrive. As soon as I opened the gate the stampede started. I ran as fast as
I could to unload and get out of the way. While a cloud of dust and hoofs ran
towards me. Escaping the stampede, I would head back to the gate, that’s when
the ram seeing that the hoof cloud missed, took it upon himself to get even on
their behalf. The ram saw my ass and thought "hey look a
bullseye" and head butted my butt right into the fence. I was getting
pretty good at the drop, dodge and go maneuver but I still had to deal with
that ram. One day I just had enough. I offered up my bullseye butt and let the
ram charge. Turns out my lateral ability was faster than that stupid ram. He ran
headfirst right into a pole. "Take that" I said. I closed the gate
and left the ram with his headache and sounds of a man (pointing at him)
yelling, na na na na na na. Luckily, some jobs I didn't have to and I was
thankful.
Big birds and little birds
The one area I didn't have to clean was the bird cages and
the squirrel monkey cage. I'd have to wear headphones. There is nothing
like the ear-piercing sounds of a macaw continuously saying "pretty
bird" and the sound of a squirrel monkey screaming "oo oo aw aw"
as he whacks off. True story. It happened. I was there and it pains me to admit
it but this horny little guy didn't care if people walked by and saw him.
He would just smile his little smile, grab his little bird and go to town. What
made him do it? I blame the macaw.
The green pond
The next adventure had me knee deep in algae. The fishpond
had a constant greenish goo hue. My job was to get the goo gone. Getting the
goo out meant getting the fish out. Buckets of fish is not a fast-food
selection. It's just buckets of fish. And boy did I have buckets. To
clean algae one must scrub every algae sticking surface. Oh, and taking a catfish off
when its barb is stuck in your boot, is a good idea too. Fun times. The last
straw was coming, and my time was almost up. Sooner or later, someone hears a
thud. The sound of shit hitting the fan.
The cactus garden from hell
How do you clean a cactus garden? Slowly with tweezers. It
was a known fact that if this family wanted you out, you were sent to the
cactus garden. There I was on my knees, rubber gloves and tweezer in hand
looking at huge weed choked cactus garden. There was only one thing left to do.
I quit.
My days on the farm are behind me now but the lessons live
on. Life is a funny thing. Remember to laugh and remember the laughs.
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