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Where’s your tail, Annabelle?

What’d you do with it?

You’re not gonna tell me, are you?

And neither is this one.

It’s been about three weeks since Annabelle’s tail was banded. It disappeared this week while she was sleeping on the porch. She had it with her when she came up from the goat yard to spend the night on her blankie with the other dogs. (She still thinks she’s a dog.) In the morning, it was gone. The porch gates are locked shut at night, so where did it go???

I think I have an idea.

I think–

Did you eat Annabelle’s tail, Coco? WAKE UP, COCO! DID YOU EAT IT?

Coco: “I don’t remember.”

COCO!!!!!

Do you see it? Tucked in the wooded hills across the river from our farm? It’s an old derrick, just like the one we have here on our hill, and probably just as old.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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