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A last farm walk
Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby.
April 5, 2004 A Last Farm Walk Greetings Friends of the Farm, If I'd known it would be his last farm walk, I would have carried him. Instead, when he paused, I called, brightly, "Tubby, come along! Farm walk!" He came with us to this piece of bottom land almost twelve years ago. He was Dot's (our daughter's) kitten. She'd named him "Sable," in reference to his blackness, and together they came to help us start the farm. He had baby fat even then, probably as a result of the alteration of his tom-cat status, and to me, "Tubby" seemed a friendlier name. But because he deserved a full name, I titled him "Tubby J. Tupelo." I explained to the curious that his ancestors came from Tupelo, Mississippi, like the other famous black-haired individual, Elvis. Nonsense, yes, but it suited him, and me. Dot and Tubby worked side by side, clearing the land, and planting broccoli. That first winter, we all endured the cold farmhouse -- Tubby keeping Dot warm -- I, waking her in the wee hours of the morning, singing cheerfully the theme song of "Mighty Mouse," but changing the hero's name to "Tubby": "Here he comes, to save the day...Tubby Tupelo...he's on his way...." Soon, perhaps encouraged by my singing, she moved on to create her own family, and is the custom in most all families, left her beloved kitty behind. He became Larry's "main man," the Tubster (so cool!), and as one dear friend remarked, "an important part of the culture of the farm." In cold weather he'd come to the field, where we'd be bent-over, or squatted-down, planting, and hop up on our backs to be in our company, yet avoid the cold wet ground. We'd be silly enough to crab-walk along to the next planting so as not to disturb his hold. Everyone, at least those who were cat-friendly, loved Tubby. When the farm stand began, in 1994, he was a fixture -- greeting folks, and allowing, through the years, thousands of little toddler hands to rummage through his fur, to the admonitions of the parents: "Be gentle..." It didn't really matter if they rippled his hair this way and that; he loved them. At least for the first two or three hours of market. When he felt that he'd had enough massage and that the pulses of stressed-out visitors had been calmed by the experience, he'd head out to lie under the okra or the fig tree and be an observer of the market action. When it came time to design a label for Larry's jar products, and the t-shirts, we used Dot's photo of Tubby relaxing on top of our old tractor. The first day we brought the new t-shirts home, I draped one on the back of a chair. Tubby hopped up to check out the new cat--his image. He approved, of course, when he realized that it was not a competitor. He loved the Spring arrivals of the Purple Martins--swooping through the air in acrobatic fluidity. When the baby birds were in the nests, the males would dive-bomb Tubby, who "innocently" lay, half hidden under the day lilies, beneath their house on high. He'd turn over on his back, offering his soft belly to their passings, his hand, with claws extended, ready to hook any who dared to buzz him closely. Of course we chastised him, trying to rescue the birds. He came to know that mice caught were celebrated; birds and lizards had to swiftly be taken under the farm house where they could be consumed in private. Many a tour group, of college students, garden clubs, foreign farmers, were surprised that a black cat went along on the march along the back field, the side field, the front field, and over to the farm stand. Ignoring the official tour leaders, those in the back of the group could be seen bending down to stroke his ebony fur. And every evening, we three, Larry, Tubby and I, would go on farm walks -- checking the crops, planning changes, smelling the aroma of Spring flowers. And on the numerous nights that I'd forgotten to turn off irrigation tapes or lock up the chickens, Tubby would show up to accompany me in the dark on the mission. He'd sit outside the Hen House, waiting for me to latch gates and replenish feed or gather eggs. One of his favorite foods was Hen House eggies, but he never bothered even tiny chicks. And on his last day, he ate an egg, two mice, and an unfortunate lizard. In the evening we went on the farm walk. He was slower, sitting down when we paused, but completed the tour. Back at the house, he hopped up onto Larry's lap as we sat on the back porch. The phone rang; Larry moved to go in. I said, "Oh, don't answer it; Tubby looks so comfortable." Later we went in, and Tubby went off to sleep in the green house, beneath the racks of freshly-harvested garlic, in the company of lizards. The next day, market day, we didn't see him. Later, while KLRU filmed and folks picked strawberries, Andy pulled me away, and said, "I found Tubby. He is dead." The illness that plagued him for the last three months had finally taken him in the night, in his sleep. I went to the greenhouse, and he lay as if dreaming, his hands cradled beneath his chin, his body warm from the sun. I stroked him and covered him with white filmy row cover. Larry and I went to the laundry shed and cried, and then we sat on the rocking chairs on the back porch, without him, and did the interview. The lady asked me to introduce the farm. While she fiddled with the camera, I turned to Larry and said, "I can't think about anything except that our Tubby lies dead in the green house, under the garlic." Larry replied, "I know." But one must do what one must. Later, we wrapped him in a towel that we both had used, so that our scent would go with him to the bottom land soil in which he would rest, beneath a tall pecan tree near the house -- to be a part of the farm forever. And we consoled each other that there would never be a cat like he, who would live a life like his, and who would be loved so much and who would love so many.... Tubby J. Tupelo, Farm Cat March 1991 - March 2004 * * * * * * * * * * * * And for market this week, Wednesday and Saturday, 9-2, we'll be harvesting The Salads (Lettuces, Chicories, Baby Arugula, Butterhead Babes, Tender Spring Greens); Succulent Spinach; Bok Choi; Kohlrabi; Escarole; Endive Frisee; Fresh Garlic; Fresh Onions; Green Garlic; Head Lettuces; Broccoli; a bit of Cauliflower (Wed only); Broccoli Greens; Chard; Kale; Dandelion Greens; Italian Flat-leafed Parsley; Chervil; Floral Bouquets (Sweet Peas, Larkspurs, Snapdragons); RainWater; Pure luck's Award-winning Chevre; Wateroak's goat-milk Ricotta, fresh curdy Yogurt and Ice Cream (many flavors!); White Mountain's Organic Tofu and Homestead's Grass-fed Beef; Miles of Chocolate... and lots of Fresh Eggs. And, for Spring planting: Fertilizers, Potting Soil, and Compost from John Dromgoole's The Natural Gardener! * * * * * * * * * * * * And so, as you who have lost pets/friends know, "life goes on" as long as it can, and memories are forever. Many thanks and love to all of Tubby's friends. Carol Ann PS: Our garlic will be featured in the May issue of Texas Monthly Magazine, in Pat Sharpe's column. PPS: Tune in to KLRU (PBS), this Friday at noon and at 9 PM, and Sunday at 5 PM, Tom Spencer's "Austin Now," for a tour of the farm. The only thing missing will be Tubby ... but you know where he was. -- Boggy Creek Farm Larry Butler/Carol Ann Sayle 3414 Lyons Road Austin TX 78702 www.boggycreekfarm.com The Farm Stand is Open Wednesday & Saturday 9-2 To unsubscribe: send email to and write Leave in the message/body area (not in the "subject" area.) Thanks. (c) Carol Ann Sayle |
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How sad... I'll miss Tubby and I never even knew him.
BUT!!! I did notice this "Victor Martinez" wrote in message ... Sunday at 5 PM, Tom Spencer's "Austin Now," for a tour of the farm. |
#3
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Victor, the tears are running unheeded down my face
for Tubby,that was so sad,I wish I had known him, Hugs, for all who were connected to him, He is at peace now, a little angelcat. Jean. Victor Martinez wrote in message ... Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. April 5, 2004 A Last Farm Walk Greetings Friends of the Farm, If I'd known it would be his last farm walk, I would have carried him. Instead, when he paused, I called, brightly, "Tubby, come along! Farm walk!" He came with us to this piece of bottom land almost twelve years ago. He was Dot's (our daughter's) kitten. She'd named him "Sable," in reference to his blackness, and together they came to help us start the farm. He had baby fat even then, probably as a result of the alteration of his tom-cat status, and to me, "Tubby" seemed a friendlier name. But because he deserved a full name, I titled him "Tubby J. Tupelo." I explained to the curious that his ancestors came from Tupelo, Mississippi, like the other famous black-haired individual, Elvis. Nonsense, yes, but it suited him, and me. Dot and Tubby worked side by side, clearing the land, and planting broccoli. That first winter, we all endured the cold farmhouse -- Tubby keeping Dot warm -- I, waking her in the wee hours of the morning, singing cheerfully the theme song of "Mighty Mouse," but changing the hero's name to "Tubby": "Here he comes, to save the day...Tubby Tupelo...he's on his way...." Soon, perhaps encouraged by my singing, she moved on to create her own family, and is the custom in most all families, left her beloved kitty behind. He became Larry's "main man," the Tubster (so cool!), and as one dear friend remarked, "an important part of the culture of the farm." In cold weather he'd come to the field, where we'd be bent-over, or squatted-down, planting, and hop up on our backs to be in our company, yet avoid the cold wet ground. We'd be silly enough to crab-walk along to the next planting so as not to disturb his hold. Everyone, at least those who were cat-friendly, loved Tubby. When the farm stand began, in 1994, he was a fixture -- greeting folks, and allowing, through the years, thousands of little toddler hands to rummage through his fur, to the admonitions of the parents: "Be gentle..." It didn't really matter if they rippled his hair this way and that; he loved them. At least for the first two or three hours of market. When he felt that he'd had enough massage and that the pulses of stressed-out visitors had been calmed by the experience, he'd head out to lie under the okra or the fig tree and be an observer of the market action. When it came time to design a label for Larry's jar products, and the t-shirts, we used Dot's photo of Tubby relaxing on top of our old tractor. The first day we brought the new t-shirts home, I draped one on the back of a chair. Tubby hopped up to check out the new cat--his image. He approved, of course, when he realized that it was not a competitor. He loved the Spring arrivals of the Purple Martins--swooping through the air in acrobatic fluidity. When the baby birds were in the nests, the males would dive-bomb Tubby, who "innocently" lay, half hidden under the day lilies, beneath their house on high. He'd turn over on his back, offering his soft belly to their passings, his hand, with claws extended, ready to hook any who dared to buzz him closely. Of course we chastised him, trying to rescue the birds. He came to know that mice caught were celebrated; birds and lizards had to swiftly be taken under the farm house where they could be consumed in private. Many a tour group, of college students, garden clubs, foreign farmers, were surprised that a black cat went along on the march along the back field, the side field, the front field, and over to the farm stand. Ignoring the official tour leaders, those in the back of the group could be seen bending down to stroke his ebony fur. And every evening, we three, Larry, Tubby and I, would go on farm walks -- checking the crops, planning changes, smelling the aroma of Spring flowers. And on the numerous nights that I'd forgotten to turn off irrigation tapes or lock up the chickens, Tubby would show up to accompany me in the dark on the mission. He'd sit outside the Hen House, waiting for me to latch gates and replenish feed or gather eggs. One of his favorite foods was Hen House eggies, but he never bothered even tiny chicks. And on his last day, he ate an egg, two mice, and an unfortunate lizard. In the evening we went on the farm walk. He was slower, sitting down when we paused, but completed the tour. Back at the house, he hopped up onto Larry's lap as we sat on the back porch. The phone rang; Larry moved to go in. I said, "Oh, don't answer it; Tubby looks so comfortable." Later we went in, and Tubby went off to sleep in the green house, beneath the racks of freshly-harvested garlic, in the company of lizards. The next day, market day, we didn't see him. Later, while KLRU filmed and folks picked strawberries, Andy pulled me away, and said, "I found Tubby. He is dead." The illness that plagued him for the last three months had finally taken him in the night, in his sleep. I went to the greenhouse, and he lay as if dreaming, his hands cradled beneath his chin, his body warm from the sun. I stroked him and covered him with white filmy row cover. Larry and I went to the laundry shed and cried, and then we sat on the rocking chairs on the back porch, without him, and did the interview. The lady asked me to introduce the farm. While she fiddled with the camera, I turned to Larry and said, "I can't think about anything except that our Tubby lies dead in the green house, under the garlic." Larry replied, "I know." But one must do what one must. Later, we wrapped him in a towel that we both had used, so that our scent would go with him to the bottom land soil in which he would rest, beneath a tall pecan tree near the house -- to be a part of the farm forever. And we consoled each other that there would never be a cat like he, who would live a life like his, and who would be loved so much and who would love so many.... Tubby J. Tupelo, Farm Cat March 1991 - March 2004 * * * * * * * * * * * * And for market this week, Wednesday and Saturday, 9-2, we'll be harvesting The Salads (Lettuces, Chicories, Baby Arugula, Butterhead Babes, Tender Spring Greens); Succulent Spinach; Bok Choi; Kohlrabi; Escarole; Endive Frisee; Fresh Garlic; Fresh Onions; Green Garlic; Head Lettuces; Broccoli; a bit of Cauliflower (Wed only); Broccoli Greens; Chard; Kale; Dandelion Greens; Italian Flat-leafed Parsley; Chervil; Floral Bouquets (Sweet Peas, Larkspurs, Snapdragons); RainWater; Pure luck's Award-winning Chevre; Wateroak's goat-milk Ricotta, fresh curdy Yogurt and Ice Cream (many flavors!); White Mountain's Organic Tofu and Homestead's Grass-fed Beef; Miles of Chocolate... and lots of Fresh Eggs. And, for Spring planting: Fertilizers, Potting Soil, and Compost from John Dromgoole's The Natural Gardener! * * * * * * * * * * * * And so, as you who have lost pets/friends know, "life goes on" as long as it can, and memories are forever. Many thanks and love to all of Tubby's friends. Carol Ann PS: Our garlic will be featured in the May issue of Texas Monthly Magazine, in Pat Sharpe's column. PPS: Tune in to KLRU (PBS), this Friday at noon and at 9 PM, and Sunday at 5 PM, Tom Spencer's "Austin Now," for a tour of the farm. The only thing missing will be Tubby ... but you know where he was. -- Boggy Creek Farm Larry Butler/Carol Ann Sayle 3414 Lyons Road Austin TX 78702 www.boggycreekfarm.com The Farm Stand is Open Wednesday & Saturday 9-2 To unsubscribe: send email to and write Leave in the message/body area (not in the "subject" area.) Thanks. (c) Carol Ann Sayle |
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On Tue, 06 Apr 2004 01:43:32 GMT, Victor Martinez
wrote: Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. snip great tribute Please pass along out condolences. It sounds like Tubby had the ideal cat life, and will be sorely missed by those he left behind. -- Steve Touchstone, faithful servant of Sammy, Little Bit and Rocky [remove Junk for email] Home Page: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/index.html Cat Pix: http://www.sirinet.net/~stouchst/animals.html |
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"Victor Martinez" wrote in message ... Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. April 5, 2004 A Last Farm Walk .... Tubby J. Tupelo, Farm Cat March 1991 - March 2004 * * * * * * * * * * * * (c) Carol Ann Sayle What a wonderful tribute to a greatly loved cat! I am so sorry to read this news, but Tubby left this world in the way that all of us would wish for our beloved pets ... he went to sleep and died without human intervention. MaryL |
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"Victor Martinez" wrote Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. in tears What a beautiful tribute to a much-loved cat. Purrs again to his people. -- Marina, Frank and Nikki Email marina (dot) kurten (at) pp (dot) inet (dot) fi Pics at http://uk.f1.pg.photos.yahoo.com/frankiennikki |
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On Tue, 06 Apr 2004 01:43:32 GMT, Victor Martinez
wrote: Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. April 5, 2004 A Last Farm Walk Greetings Friends of the Farm, If I'd known it would be his last farm walk, I would have carried him. Instead, when he paused, I called, brightly, "Tubby, come along! Farm walk!" He came with us to this piece of bottom land almost twelve years ago. He was Dot's (our daughter's) kitten. She'd named him "Sable," in reference to his blackness, and together they came to help us start the farm. He had baby fat even then, probably as a result of the alteration of his tom-cat status, and to me, "Tubby" seemed a friendlier name. But because he deserved a full name, I titled him "Tubby J. Tupelo." I explained to the curious that his ancestors came from Tupelo, Mississippi, like the other famous black-haired individual, Elvis. Nonsense, yes, but it suited him, and me. Dot and Tubby worked side by side, clearing the land, and planting broccoli. That first winter, we all endured the cold farmhouse -- Tubby keeping Dot warm -- I, waking her in the wee hours of the morning, singing cheerfully the theme song of "Mighty Mouse," but changing the hero's name to "Tubby": "Here he comes, to save the day...Tubby Tupelo...he's on his way...." Soon, perhaps encouraged by my singing, she moved on to create her own family, and is the custom in most all families, left her beloved kitty behind. He became Larry's "main man," the Tubster (so cool!), and as one dear friend remarked, "an important part of the culture of the farm." In cold weather he'd come to the field, where we'd be bent-over, or squatted-down, planting, and hop up on our backs to be in our company, yet avoid the cold wet ground. We'd be silly enough to crab-walk along to the next planting so as not to disturb his hold. Everyone, at least those who were cat-friendly, loved Tubby. When the farm stand began, in 1994, he was a fixture -- greeting folks, and allowing, through the years, thousands of little toddler hands to rummage through his fur, to the admonitions of the parents: "Be gentle..." It didn't really matter if they rippled his hair this way and that; he loved them. At least for the first two or three hours of market. When he felt that he'd had enough massage and that the pulses of stressed-out visitors had been calmed by the experience, he'd head out to lie under the okra or the fig tree and be an observer of the market action. When it came time to design a label for Larry's jar products, and the t-shirts, we used Dot's photo of Tubby relaxing on top of our old tractor. The first day we brought the new t-shirts home, I draped one on the back of a chair. Tubby hopped up to check out the new cat--his image. He approved, of course, when he realized that it was not a competitor. He loved the Spring arrivals of the Purple Martins--swooping through the air in acrobatic fluidity. When the baby birds were in the nests, the males would dive-bomb Tubby, who "innocently" lay, half hidden under the day lilies, beneath their house on high. He'd turn over on his back, offering his soft belly to their passings, his hand, with claws extended, ready to hook any who dared to buzz him closely. Of course we chastised him, trying to rescue the birds. He came to know that mice caught were celebrated; birds and lizards had to swiftly be taken under the farm house where they could be consumed in private. Many a tour group, of college students, garden clubs, foreign farmers, were surprised that a black cat went along on the march along the back field, the side field, the front field, and over to the farm stand. Ignoring the official tour leaders, those in the back of the group could be seen bending down to stroke his ebony fur. And every evening, we three, Larry, Tubby and I, would go on farm walks -- checking the crops, planning changes, smelling the aroma of Spring flowers. And on the numerous nights that I'd forgotten to turn off irrigation tapes or lock up the chickens, Tubby would show up to accompany me in the dark on the mission. He'd sit outside the Hen House, waiting for me to latch gates and replenish feed or gather eggs. One of his favorite foods was Hen House eggies, but he never bothered even tiny chicks. And on his last day, he ate an egg, two mice, and an unfortunate lizard. In the evening we went on the farm walk. He was slower, sitting down when we paused, but completed the tour. Back at the house, he hopped up onto Larry's lap as we sat on the back porch. The phone rang; Larry moved to go in. I said, "Oh, don't answer it; Tubby looks so comfortable." Later we went in, and Tubby went off to sleep in the green house, beneath the racks of freshly-harvested garlic, in the company of lizards. The next day, market day, we didn't see him. Later, while KLRU filmed and folks picked strawberries, Andy pulled me away, and said, "I found Tubby. He is dead." The illness that plagued him for the last three months had finally taken him in the night, in his sleep. I went to the greenhouse, and he lay as if dreaming, his hands cradled beneath his chin, his body warm from the sun. I stroked him and covered him with white filmy row cover. Larry and I went to the laundry shed and cried, and then we sat on the rocking chairs on the back porch, without him, and did the interview. The lady asked me to introduce the farm. While she fiddled with the camera, I turned to Larry and said, "I can't think about anything except that our Tubby lies dead in the green house, under the garlic." Larry replied, "I know." But one must do what one must. Later, we wrapped him in a towel that we both had used, so that our scent would go with him to the bottom land soil in which he would rest, beneath a tall pecan tree near the house -- to be a part of the farm forever. And we consoled each other that there would never be a cat like he, who would live a life like his, and who would be loved so much and who would love so many.... Tubby J. Tupelo, Farm Cat March 1991 - March 2004 * * * * * * * * * * * * And for market this week, Wednesday and Saturday, 9-2, we'll be harvesting The Salads (Lettuces, Chicories, Baby Arugula, Butterhead Babes, Tender Spring Greens); Succulent Spinach; Bok Choi; Kohlrabi; Escarole; Endive Frisee; Fresh Garlic; Fresh Onions; Green Garlic; Head Lettuces; Broccoli; a bit of Cauliflower (Wed only); Broccoli Greens; Chard; Kale; Dandelion Greens; Italian Flat-leafed Parsley; Chervil; Floral Bouquets (Sweet Peas, Larkspurs, Snapdragons); RainWater; Pure luck's Award-winning Chevre; Wateroak's goat-milk Ricotta, fresh curdy Yogurt and Ice Cream (many flavors!); White Mountain's Organic Tofu and Homestead's Grass-fed Beef; Miles of Chocolate... and lots of Fresh Eggs. And, for Spring planting: Fertilizers, Potting Soil, and Compost from John Dromgoole's The Natural Gardener! * * * * * * * * * * * * And so, as you who have lost pets/friends know, "life goes on" as long as it can, and memories are forever. Many thanks and love to all of Tubby's friends. Carol Ann PS: Our garlic will be featured in the May issue of Texas Monthly Magazine, in Pat Sharpe's column. PPS: Tune in to KLRU (PBS), this Friday at noon and at 9 PM, and Sunday at 5 PM, Tom Spencer's "Austin Now," for a tour of the farm. The only thing missing will be Tubby ... but you know where he was. "Rise up slowly, Angel, it's hard to let you go." Sincere sympathy MLB |
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One of the most moving tributes to a beloved pet friend I've ever read.
Tubby is now at the Bridge, with new friends, forever at his prime, awaiting those hoomins who grieve here for their loss of his company. "Marina" wrote in message ... : : "Victor Martinez" wrote : Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to : Tubby. : : : in tears What a beautiful tribute to a much-loved cat. Purrs again to his : people. : : -- : Marina, Frank and Nikki : Email marina (dot) kurten (at) pp (dot) inet (dot) fi : Pics at http://uk.f1.pg.photos.yahoo.com/frankiennikki : |
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Victor Martinez wrote in message ... Here's the latest newsletter from Boggy Creek Farm. It's a tribute to Tubby. April 5, 2004 A Last Farm Walk Greetings Friends of the Farm, If I'd known it would be his last farm walk, I would have carried him. Instead, when he paused, I called, brightly, "Tubby, come along! Farm walk!" Later, we wrapped him in a towel that we both had used, so that our scent would go with him to the bottom land soil in which he would rest, beneath a tall pecan tree near the house -- to be a part of the farm forever. And we consoled each other that there would never be a cat like he, who would live a life like his, and who would be loved so much and who would love so many.... Tubby J. Tupelo, Farm Cat March 1991 - March 2004 And so, as you who have lost pets/friends know, "life goes on" as long as it can, and memories are forever. Many thanks and love to all of Tubby's friends. Carol Ann That's such a great tribute. |
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