The Doghouse
Weekly dispatches from Sophie, Annie, and Lizzie — Rainbow Connection Farm's resident security team, management, and emotional support division.
CASE FILE: THE GREAT COOP BREAKOUTSTATUS: ONGOING. REPEAT OFFENDERS. I HAVE THEIR NUMBERS MEMORIZED.
It happened again. 0600 hours. I was on my usual perimeter sweep — the one nobody asked me to do, the one I do anyway, because someone around here has to take this seriously — when I caught them. Two chickens. Names redacted for their own protection, but let's just say they know who they are, and they know I know. Out. Of. The coop. Again. This makes escape attempt number... honestly I've lost count, and frankly the fact that nobody else is keeping count is exactly the kind of institutional failure I've been barking about for months. I did what I always do. I did what I was born to do. I sounded the alarm — loud, sustained, impossible to ignore, because a quiet bark helps nobody — until the Farm Moms came running to see what the emergency was. They always come. They always thank me. Some might call this "excessive barking." I call it "the only functioning warning system on this property." Once the Farm Moms arrived, I supervised the retrieval personally, herding the loose chickens back toward the coop with the calm authority of a professional who has done this before, because I have, because I always have to. Case closed. For now. Let the record show: the coop stayed secure for exactly none of this week. Let the record also show that I noticed, I reported it, and I did not stop barking until someone did something about it. This is not paranoia. This is due diligence. This is what I do. Investigator's note: if you see something, bark about it. Preferably at 6 AM. Preferably until someone comes outside.
— Annie, filing this report the way she files everything: loudly, urgently, and correctly
When the Farm Moms step out, I step up. Someone has to keep the peace around here, and it is not going to be the one filing incident reports about chickens every five minutes (love you, Annie). This week, since we've had a couple of new rescues settle in, my tip is one I wish every new rescue parent heard on day one. When you bring home a new rescue pig: go slow, and let them set the pace. A lot of rescue pigs come from situations where they had no choice about anything — where they went, who touched them, what happened next. The single most important thing you can give a new pig is choice. Let them explore their space without being cornered or picked up. Sit down at their level instead of looming over them. Let them approach you first, and let "no" be a full sentence, even from a pig. Feeding time is a great trust-builder — same time, same spot, same calm voice, every day. Predictability is the language rescue animals understand before they understand you. And be patient with the food guarding, the flinching, the days they want nothing to do with any of you. That's not a personality. That's a nervous system that hasn't caught up to the fact that it's safe now. It will. Just keep showing up the same way, every day, until it does. That's the job when the Farm Moms are gone. Keep everyone fed, keep everyone calm, and keep everyone believing that safe is a permanent thing now, not a temporary one.
— Sophie, who will absolutely also let you know if dinner is five minutes late
When the Farm Moms step out, I step up. Someone has to keep the peace around here, and it is not going to be the one filing incident reports about chickens every five minutes (love you, Annie). This week, since we've had a couple of new rescues settle in, my tip is one I wish every new rescue parent heard on day one. When you bring home a new rescue pig: go slow, and let them set the pace. A lot of rescue pigs come from situations where they had no choice about anything — where they went, who touched them, what happened next. The single most important thing you can give a new pig is choice. Let them explore their space without being cornered or picked up. Sit down at their level instead of looming over them. Let them approach you first, and let "no" be a full sentence, even from a pig. Feeding time is a great trust-builder — same time, same spot, same calm voice, every day. Predictability is the language rescue animals understand before they understand you. And be patient with the food guarding, the flinching, the days they want nothing to do with any of you. That's not a personality. That's a nervous system that hasn't caught up to the fact that it's safe now. It will. Just keep showing up the same way, every day, until it does. That's the job when the Farm Moms are gone. Keep everyone fed, keep everyone calm, and keep everyone believing that safe is a permanent thing now, not a temporary one.
— Sophie, who will absolutely also let you know if dinner is five minutes late
When the Farm Moms step out, I step up. Someone has to keep the peace around here, and it is not going to be the one filing incident reports about chickens every five minutes (love you, Annie). This week, since we've had a couple of new rescues settle in, my tip is one I wish every new rescue parent heard on day one. When you bring home a new rescue pig: go slow, and let them set the pace. A lot of rescue pigs come from situations where they had no choice about anything — where they went, who touched them, what happened next. The single most important thing you can give a new pig is choice. Let them explore their space without being cornered or picked up. Sit down at their level instead of looming over them. Let them approach you first, and let "no" be a full sentence, even from a pig. Feeding time is a great trust-builder — same time, same spot, same calm voice, every day. Predictability is the language rescue animals understand before they understand you. And be patient with the food guarding, the flinching, the days they want nothing to do with any of you. That's not a personality. That's a nervous system that hasn't caught up to the fact that it's safe now. It will. Just keep showing up the same way, every day, until it does. That's the job when the Farm Moms are gone. Keep everyone fed, keep everyone calm, and keep everyone believing that safe is a permanent thing now, not a temporary one.
— Sophie, who will absolutely also let you know if dinner is five minutes late
Not everyone is built for chasing chickens or running the household. Some of us are built for one very important job: making sure every animal on this farm gets loved on the right way. You're welcome. This week's lesson: pigs and belly rubs. A lot of people assume pigs are like giant dogs, but the approach is different, and it matters. Pigs generally do not love being patted on top of the head — it can feel like a threat coming from above. Instead, approach from the side, at their level, and let them see and smell you coming before you make contact. Once they're comfortable, the belly rub is sacred ground. Most pigs will flop onto their side themselves when they're ready for one — that flop is an invitation, not an accident. Use firm, flat pressure with your whole palm, not fingertips (fingertips tickle, and nobody trusts a tickler). Long, slow strokes along the belly and sides, and watch for the leg starting to twitch or the eyes going soft and half-closed — that's the universal pig sign for "yes, exactly that, don't stop." Grunting during a belly rub isn't a complaint. It's the pig version of a happy sigh. Every animal has a version of this — a right way in, a moment where they tell you "yes, keep going" if you're paying attention. That's the whole job, really. Paying attention until they trust you enough to flop over.
— Lizzie, Professional Cuddler, currently accepting belly rub requests of her own
WANTED — GENERAL FARM SUPPLIES
Rainbow Connection Farm is in need of the usual essentials to keep 35+ rescued residents fed, warm, and thriving: hay, straw, bedding, feed, vet care funds, and general farm upkeep supplies. If you've got extra, or you're the type who likes to check a wishlist before you shop, ours is linked below. Every item goes straight to the animals who need it. Serious inquiries only. Actually, all inquiries. We're not picky.
Rainbow Connection Farm Wishlist
WANTED — PERSONAL, URGENT, NON-NEGOTIABLE
Posted by: Nugget
Looking for: tennis balls (unchewed preferred, chewed acceptable, I'm not a snob), cardboard (any size, any box, I will find a use for it), peanut butter crackers (the good kind, you know which kind), and a little dog bed — my own, not one I have to fight Sophie for, not one Lizzie gets to nap in first, not a "farm bed," a Nugget bed.
Do not respond with "we already have toys." I am aware. This is not about need. This is about principle.
Serious offers only. I will know if you're just saying you'll bring a tennis ball and then don't.
FUNDRAISING — HELP KEEP THE WHOLE FARM RUNNING Rainbow Connection Farm is a registered 501(c)(3), which means your donation is tax-deductible and goes directly toward the care of every animal here — food, medical care, shelter, and the everyday costs of running a rescue.
You're welcome to donate toward a specific animal or group if you have a soft spot (we won't judge — everyone has their favorite), but donations to the farm as a whole help us the most. General farm donations let us cover whatever comes up that week, whether that's an emergency vet visit, a feed delivery, or yes, occasionally, a bag of tennis balls.
Donate to Rainbow Connection Farm →
Every dollar helps. Every dollar matters. And every dollar gets a very enthusiastic tail-wag of thanks from the guy who runs Classifieds around here.
— Nugget, Contributions Manager, closing out another week of shameless requests, some more legitimate than others
More from the Doghouse next week. Annie will still be barking. Sophie will still be in charge. Lizzie will still be very, very good at this. Nugget will still want a tennis ball.
