Crested a long rise, and...

...somewhere in the northern part of East Texas, we found Animal Farm. The RV park, I mean; and that is not its real name. The proprietor was eighty-seven year old Emily who ran the place while her husband George mostly watched. Emily escorted me to the house to check us in, but first she had to corral the lamb and get it into the house. Mostly, it thinks it is a dog, so a little coaxing got the job done. We would later hear the story of the triplet lambs born on a freezing cold night, leaving the mother dead, and how Emily nursed this and another one to this happy stage of their lives.

There were cats in abundance, and to the question regarding their number, the response was "something over twenty." We like them here, for they tend to keep the copperhead population under control. Yeah, I am thinking. That is probably a symbiotic relationship, for it is likely that the serpents tend to keep the kitty population somewhat under control as well.

One could look out the window and see no fewer than a half dozen black cats at any one time, not to mention the cats of other stripes and colors. The grey was probably the prettiest, the black-and-white the largest, and most interesting because while many of the cats were of the short-tailed variety, this one had a short corkscrew tail. Made one wonder which car door or screen door got that one.

As you see from the picture, sitting around on the patio visiting was a feature of the evening and brought back memories of the good old days when neighbors gathered on a front porch to pass and evening. You may also note that BBBH was greatly enthralled with the lamb.

The little dog, a dachshuahua (I made that up. Well, actually the male chihuahua who jumped the dachshund made it up.) represented a whole other story with which Emily regaled us.

And here you can see how two of the cats joined us for visit by perching on the hood.