The following took place while Tim was in Alabama. Like I said in an earlier post, it was not easy having him gone. I could have really used him at home that day.

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I took two of the children to Nana's. She hurt herself and needed some little legs to feed the chickens and do some run around stuff for her thru out the evening since she can't move much.

When Abe and I got home, Jacob, Molly, and Sol came running out to the car to meet me. They were panicked, and Molly looked sick. My heart sank. You always wonder if things will *really* be ok when you leave your older children home alone.

"Brave is hurt, Mom," Jacob said. "I think it's something for the vet. It's pretty awful looking."

"It's gross, Mom," Molly said. "I don't think I can eat. I'm going to be sick."

Even Solomon, the only one of my kids who can help with butchering and disposing of dead animals, was not ok. "Mom, I don't want to make you feel bad, but it's really awful. He's bleeding bad. Something is stuck in him on his belly."

I snapped at them, because they were making me sick and panicked. "Stop it, children! Now! You know I don't do well with blood, and I need to be ok to look at him. Is he laying down, Jacob?"

"No," he answered. "He's just standing there, staring."

I took Abe inside, and pulled myself up by the bootstraps. Tim wasn't home and neither was Joshua. I was on my own, and wondering if I should just take the dog to the vet or pull whatever it was out of him and see if I could keep him ok till Monday when the vet opened.

I went out back, and at first glance, Brave looked fine. I called him to me and he walked over to me. He looked ok.  I turned him over, and looked up and down his belly and chest, and over the rest of him, but could find no blood.

"He looks fine, guys. Are you sure he was bleeding?" I asked.

"Very sure," Sol said adamently. "It was long and bloody and looked like a sausage. It looked really, really bad."

Ooookay.  I looked over at our newly acquired female Australian Shepherd. She is quite old, but apparently still has some spunk in her.

I bit the inside of my cheeks, and couldn't speak to tell the kids that he would be fine. My face was so pinched from trying to maintain a poker face that the kids thought their poor dog was dying.  I nodded my head seriously toward the kitchen, and the kids knew that meant to fill their plates and eat.

I walked quietly thru the house, out the front door, dialed Tim on the cell phone, and when he answered I laughed with such a snort I needed tissue.  Oh my word!

"I can't tell them, Tim," I said, laughing.

"Someone needs to tell them before the boys go to Boy Scouts. Solomon is sure to mention it," he said, laughing as hard as I.

"Your job. They are boys. Your job. It's either that or they quit Scouts. And I don't think either of my brothers are going to appreciate hearing the story from their kids. And I don't *even* want to talk about Nana hearing it!"

"Ok, I'll tell them. But give me 24 hours."

What a man.