Sheep in the Pyreénées Mountains, France, September 2017
First, a little background...In 2011, I sold my sheep and poultry farm in western Oregon and moved overseas for what I thought was a permanent relocation. I sold and/or donated almost everything I owned and packed the rest into 3 large suitcases and off we went.
My Australian Shepherd, Riley, cats, Livvy and Bell, and I moved from Portland, Oregon, first to southern Ireland, county Cork.
The pets being unloaded as cargo from the United flight at Dublin International Airport
A favorite photo from our time in Ireland
I applied to Ireland for permanent residency, as Ireland is one of the few countries in western Europe that offers a "retirement visa" for those who qualify. It generally takes 3 months to have an answer from the immigration service. After 9 months of paperwork filling out and jumping through Irish hoops, I received a letter saying I was not approved for residency. (I will leave that explanation for another blog post - it is quite a story to be told). I had always had a backup plan, as there is never a guarantee of residency approval in any country. My next step was to move to France, where they also have a permanent residency category for retired persons.
Since it was so long past the normal waiting period to hear an answer on residency, the local Irish immigration officer allowed me to travel to Scotland for the summer. We met good friends, visited castles, toured the Highlands, volunteered for the Rare Breeds Survival Trust (educating the public on the importance of rare breeds of livestock), and explored the wonderful city of Edinburgh.
Sheep on the Isle of Skye in the Scottish Highlands
Edinburgh, with the castle in the background
When the letter from the Irish immigration service finally did arrive, I was just about to leave for Montana for a visit home to see my parents. Once I arrived in Montana, I found my elderly mother to be quite ill. Time for another change in plans. This time, back to Scotland to gather up "la ménagerie" and return to Montana to watch over my Mom until the end of her life. She was with us another 18 months. Mom passed away in her sleep on December 27, 2015.
With Mom, LeAnne (Norville) Beene,
Thanksgiving 2015
In April 2015, my boy Riley succumbed to liver disease at the age of 12. What an amazing life he lived, on my 2 farms in Oregon and traveling throughout Ireland and Scotland. The UK and Ireland had just lifted their 6 month quarantine for pets coming from outside the country, so most people had never seen an Australian Shepherd. He was a star wherever he went! Riley was the 2nd of my 3 Australian Shepherds and I think, the best - only because I had him the longest - and is still missed to this day.
My dog-less days did not last. Just a few months after Riley left us, in May 2015, I adopted my 3rd Aussie, Sophie, from the Western Australian Shepherd Rescue. She had been through 2 homes before finding her way to her forever home with me. She was a "special needs" adoption, as she tore both ACLs in her back knees (called the stifle joint in dogs) and her first owners never had them repaired. This led to signficant arthritis in both knees. This didn´t slow her down, as she was still able to hike and backpack throughout the beautiful Beartooth Mountains in south central Montana.
Posing in the Beartooth Mountains
When I first moved back to Montana in 2016, I moved into a 100 year old farmhouse near a teeny tiny town called Edgar, about 35 minutes southeast of Billings. I lived there happily for 2 years with Riley (then Sophie), multiple cats, and several chickens. My mother´s ancestors, Germans who emigrated to Russia in the 18th century and eventually to America in the late 19th century, lived near Edgar in the early 1900's. They farmed the sugar beet fields, just as they had in Russia.
Mom and Dad moved to Billings when my Dad retired from the San Francisco Police Department in 1987. My Mom was born in 1937 in Glasgow, Montana, where my Gramps was working on the construction of the Fort Peck Dam in northeast Montana. When she was a year old, my grandparents moved to Billings. Mom and Dad met in Billings, just after Mom graduated from high school in 1955 and were married the same year. Mom and Dad traveled to several states where my Dad played minor league baseball. In 1960, they moved to San Francisco for the beginning of Dad´s new career in law enforcement. In 1987, after 27 years in the police department, Dad had had enough of city life and they decided to retire in Billings.
I began visiting them in 1988, when I was 25 years old and still living in the university town of San Luis Obispo. In 1993, I moved to Montana to attend Montana State University Bozeman and obtain a nursing degree. Most of the course work took place on the Billings campus and I was so lucky that Mom and Dad allowed me to move in downstairs. I spent 3 years working at one of the local hospital´s Emergency Department and studying to obtain my Bachelor´s of Science degree in Nursing. I was also my parents´ built-in house sitter, while they traveled all over the US and Canada in their motorhome. When I graduated in December 1996, I moved away to Boston, then Boulder, Atlanta, and Portland, but came back as often as I could.
When I moved to the home Billings in 2017, it was a bit of a transition to live in a city again, having lived in the countryside for the past 12 years. Luckily the home was located about 5 miles from the city center, in the neighborhood called the Billings Heights. The house was also located on the edge of the Heights´ Rimrocks, geological rimrock sandstone formations surrounding the city, and on a large lot in a quiet cul-de-sac, so it never felt like city living.
It was quite a large house, but I never felt lonely with my pet menagerie by my side. Sophie and my 2 kitties, Bell and Livvy, made the house our home. Sadly, in October 2017, it was time to say goodbye to Bell, a wonderful friend for 12 years. At the time, Bell had 2 chronic diseases, hyperthyroidism and IBS (Inflammatory Bowel Syndrome). Even when she was quite ill, she was still the sweetest, most curious, kitty there ever was. She was a even a trooper when I had to give her steroids by sticking the pills down her throat twice a day. But, in late October, she told us it was her time to leave by no longer having the desire to eat. Bell lived a great life. She was adopted from the Oregon Humane Society in Portland in 2005, as company for Livvy Cat who was the same age. We first lived in the blue farmhouse in Cornelius, 25 miles northwest of Portland, then in nearby Gaston. She moved with Riley, Livvy, and I to Ireland and Scotland, then back to a peaceful life in Montana. Wherever I went, there she was. She always touched my cheek with her little paw to tell me it was time to get up to feed her or give her a bit of petting. I still miss that little paw.
2005
2016
Livvy (aka Big Mama) was close to Bell as a kitten, but they were not so much as adults. After Bell left us, Livvy became quite vocal and began following me around. This was a good thing, as she needed the exercise, having weighed in at 18 lbs.
Livvy Cat
When I moved into the farmhouse, I inherited 2 outdoor farm cats. Woodhouse was a lovely tame cat who originally belonged to the young couple who lived there before us. They had moved about 1 mile up and across the highway with Woodhouse. In the first few weeks, Woodhouse kept crossing the busy highway to return to the farmhouse. After she was retrieved the 3rd time, it was decided she would live with us permanently. She enjoyed her time with Riley, then Sophie, and supervised our 3 free range chickens. In winter, she moved into the garden shed behind the house, then later to the mudroom, where she kept toasty warm through the sub-zero winter temperatures.
The other barn cat, originally named Snarfy by the former owners, was renamed Bouffée (a nickname that means "bed head" in French). She was about 2 years old when we arrived in Edgar. She too was a tame cat and lived the good life as an inside/outside cat. She was very curious and quite photogenic. She reminded me of a smaller version of a Norwegian Forest Cat.
My cat Livvy, the oldest of the bunch, decided at the ripe old age of 12 that she no longer had room in her life for other cats. So I was not able to take Woodhouse or Bouffée with me to the Billings house. Luckily, both cats went to live in loving homes. Woodhouse lives with my Aunt Ginger´s brother and his wife in Billings and Bouffée with my former husband.
