Gunner was an 18-year-old Border collie mix who lived a delightfully long and contented life.

Our boy had been with us since he was approximately 3 years old, after a family who no longer had time for a canine companion, surrendered him.  While with this family, Gunner was kept in a very small kennel and during a rare venture out of his cage, he was trampled by a horse. This resulted in the necessary reconstruction of his hip and leg using metal screws and pins.  Throughout his 16 years with us, Gunner had discomfort from his leg, accompanied by arthritis and laryngeal paralysis, but we helped him manage his pain, and he was able to roam the yards and keep an eye on everyone.   

Gunner felt it his responsibility to alert us with his croaky voice, to the uniformed person touching the mailbox, or the small furry individual in the tree, throwing nutshells on his head.  He believed strongly that he had a job to do, and despite our suggestions to the contrary, he was ever vigilant in carrying out his duties.  

As he progressed in years, that desire to loyally protect his family, never left him.  Even after he was unable to handle the heat, or cold temperatures, or navigate stairs, he still had to be convinced that all was well and it was safe to leave his post and come into the house to rest.  He was a faithful and devoted companion who stood by us despite his own frailties, until the very end. 

We will miss our old man terribly… his gentle nature, his sneaky peeks, the way water poured out of his mouth when he drank, his selective hearing and his flopping down on the ground when he did not want to participate in whatever activity in which we felt he should participate. 

We will especially remember that he was always the first to greet us, tail wagging, and eyes shining, in hope of a quick butt rub before he ran a few laps around us and continued on his way to make sure we were all safe.   

Rest well dear boy, you will be in our hearts forever.

Sadly, we lost our special Maizey girl on October 23, 2018; she was in late stage renal failure and was comfortable during her last hours; she left us peacefully in her sleep.

Maizey was with us for three short years, but during that time, she transformed from the skittish mistrusting ewe, who had lost her leg in a vicious dog attack, to the warm, friendly lady, who would run as fast as her 3 legs would carry her, into the house to join her companion Mazel for their private breakfast.

Sweet Maizey was amazingly resilient… despite her handicap she demanded respect, and took her position as queen seriously.  She was the first to let us know everyone was hungry, someone had ventured outside the fence, or that there was some sort of shenanigans in the yard, of which she highly disapproved.

Her voice was always the loudest, and her concern for her herd was always the deepest.

We will miss you dearly, beautiful one, you will live forever in our hearts. 

We said goodbye to our special dinosaur boy, Neville on November 16 2018.  He seemed to be improving after seeing the vet and beginning treatment for a bacterial infection, but there may have been some yet undiscovered issues, and sadly he left us. 

Nev was one in a multitude of unwanted roosters born into backyard egg production. When we rescued Neville, we knew he was special… he was big and proud; he had an extra toe on each foot, and an extra wicked spur.  Nev loved to strut and show off his stately physique, but he was not a fighter, his antics were all show.  Neville seemed quite unmoved by his environment, except when it came to salad time… he was so excited to share his food, he never got to eat the best bites because he would always give them away.  Despite his aloof nature, there were no treat puzzles that could stump him for long…  Neville was a mastermind at discovering a hidden morsel.

We will miss our impressive boy, the flock seems so small without him, but he will always take up a big space in our hearts.  Rest easy big guy, we hope you never run out of puzzles 💚

Pika Marie came to us in 2016, having been rescued from the streets of Mexico.  With the help of  Baja Safe and Flying Dogs Rescue, Pika made it to Terra, ready to be loved.  We knew this pup was special; she was between 8 and 10 years old, blind, partially deaf, and had other underlying issues like UTIs and eye infections that would need attention, but we were ready. 

Our petite girl was adorable, and had the personality and courage of a dog four times her size.  She was food motivated, and very determined, and she was fearless.  The only time Pika Marie would bark, was for her breakfast; an adorable, airy “wwwuff.  We imagined, if a teddy bear pretended to bark like a dog, this was the sound it would make. 

When we learned Pika had arthritis due to an improperly healed dislocated hip, we were surprised when she would run as fast as she could to the kitchen for dinner, stopping for a quick greeting, but not long enough to keep her from being the first dog through the door.  After finishing her dinner, she would tidy up the area around her bowl then make her way to the other dog’s bowls to do the same.  

Our little Miss loved to scoot on her side, on the floor, scratching her backside along the cabinets, while we were cooking dinner… and she especially loved “accidentally” nipping our toes when our feet got in the way.  She enjoyed teasing us; pretending she could not find her ball, than pouncing on it in a surprise attack.  She believed our socks belonged under the coffee table, and would do her best to round them up and park them there.  

After a few while, Pika began acting strangely fearful, and then started to have seizures.  Because she was blind, her pre-seizure episodes would send her careening into walls, unable to control her own behavior and we would need to scoop her up in a tight hug as she thrashed, before she hit a wall.  When her seizure reached the point where she became rigid, we would gently place her back down to recover.  Pika had been diagnosed with allergies and entropion, and we were hoping the meds for these issues, as well as those for pain and her other problems were not the cause of her attacks.  After working with our incredible vets, we ruled out the possibility of meds being the trigger to her seizure activity, and we began a regimen of anti epileptics to regulate her episodes.   

As the months went by Pika had good times and bad times, and she was referred for a full neurological work up at WSU to determine the cause of her seizures. Pika took the exam in stride; she was brave… and staff fell in love with her.  The results of the testing revealed that she had no neurological anomalies, and no physical cause for the seizures.  However, they did find that our little lady had mammary cancer, which was removed when she was stable. 

Pika had a lovely summer, playing and eating and enjoying her life, her seizures were managed, and she was cancer free.  Then, without warning, she started to have bouts of terror and severe anxiety, as if she was hearing something frightening behind her…  she would panic and run in fear and become terrified, panting and shaking, we would have to sedate her to calm her down… still she fought through the medication, and would hide in her crates, unable to sleep.  Pika would have these episodes every few days for a couple of weeks, until they stopped completely, and she was back to her old self again.   

After multiple visits with vets, we were unable to diagnose the issue or determine treatment should the panic attacks come back.  Sadly, one week later, they did.  At this point, we were unable to control the fear; Pika would hide in her special places all over the house, and rarely come out.  She was unable to sleep, had to be coaxed to eat, and would stop midway through doing her business outside, because something would scare her.  Pika’s life at this point was miserable, and regardless of what we tried, we could no longer make her feel safe.  We knew it was time to say goodbye; Dr Bayley helped Pika leave her broken body on December 26.  Seeing her sweet, pint-sized figure finally at rest and calm, was comforting, although our hearts were breaking.  We will miss our brave little Pika Pie terribly, but we felt she could no longer tolerate her struggle here on earth.  Sleep well sweet poo, you will live in our hearts forever. 

With great sadness we mourn the loss of our beautiful old man, Granite. As vocal and opinionated as roosters are, he was more so, and we counted on him to alert us to anything awry at the sanctuary.

Granite enjoyed his high roost where he could keep an eye on everything and everyone but was more than happy to sprawl in one of the deep, cool holes he had dug out in the soil. This old man loved his fresh, daily salads, and would come running when he saw his shiny bowl, but grapes were his all-time favorite.

Granite was old… incredibly old, and we have no idea how many places he had lived before he planted roots at Terra. Although we always wish residents were able to communicate the stories of their lives with us, we know Granite’s incredible story would fill volumes, just as his special memory will fill our hearts forever. We miss him very much.

It is with great sadness that we share the passing of our gentle boy, Mortimer. Morty’s rescue was an arduous endeavor, with rescue friends in western Washington diligently struggling for his surrender from a 4H environment.  Morty, and his friend Solomon were 4-year-old sheep, had not been neutered, or shorn properly, and were suffering from wounds, skin issues, hoof problems and malnutrition.  After many weeks of vet care and healing, the boys were transported to Terra in October of 2018.

Our new residents were facing a cold winter when they arrived, and even in the heated goat house, as lean as Morty was, he needed to put on weight quickly. Mort only picked at his hay, so we needed to get some calories into him to help keep him warm. We started feeding him Terra’s special coconut pellets and he ate them ravenously; these became his favorite food and helped him brave the winter’s cold with no problems. 

Mortimer spent his time at Terra enjoying the company of his herd, begging for treats and scratches… he especially loved to be combed with a rake! He was the cuddliest teddy bear of a sheep we had ever met; he was a love bug. Morty was the last person to come up the hill at night from snacking on fresh new grass in the spring, and he was very vocal if dinner was not served as promptly as he thought was necessary. 

Several weeks ago, our boy was not acting as his regular delightful self, so we had our vet up for a visit. The exam and bloodwork showed nothing remarkable, but Morty was not improving, and was transported to WSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital where he remained for two weeks. After a myriad of tests, workups, treatments, a host of different imaging procedures, daily monitoring, and nursing care there was still no indication about what was wrong with Morty.  Because sheep are considered expendable in mainstream agriculture, they are typically slaughtered when they become ill; there is extraordinarily little medical knowledge regarding disease in sheep. Vets and staff worked tirelessly to determine what was wrong with Mortimer, but they could not establish a conclusive diagnosis. The closest they could ascertain, was that our boy had lymphoma, and would not be with us for much longer. 

For 6 weeks after Morty returned from the hospital, he had been receiving steroid injections to try and keep him stable and pain free, and he once again was relishing his coconut pellets. He was spending days out with his herd and sleeping in the warm goat house at night. Morty was able to enjoy the first few days of warmer temperatures we had, and we even saw him at the bottom of the hill, searching for new sprouts poking out from the thawing ground. 

Sadly, his time with us was short. He succumbed to his disease as he laid under the stars while we comforted him.  As he left us, we hoped he was in peace, with thoughts of warm spring days and buckets of coconut pellets. Rest well sweet teddy bear sheep, we will miss you terribly… you will live in our hearts forever.

Oberon was not himself. He was not running to meet the hay cart or basking in the warm sun with his herd mates… he was less enthusiastic about treats and he was sleeping more. We saw that his face was swollen, and he was not eating his hay, so we made an appointment to see our local vet. While we were waiting for Obie’s appointment, we put him in quarantine so he would be more comfortable, and fed him soaked grass pellets, until he stopped eating those as well. During Ober’s appointment, Dr. Heather took x-rays and a sample from his swollen lymph gland and the results showed that he had two, tooth root abscesses in the back of his mouth. We then drove Ober to WSU Veterinary Teaching Hospital to have the teeth extracted, and while there, they saw that the cytology regarding his lymph glands had cells that were concerning; at that point our boy began suffering bladder issues. For two days, doctors and students worked to make our boy comfortable, while trying to discover the cause of his rapidly occurring symptoms. The morning Obie’s bladder symptoms seemed to be improving, we hoped for a day of rest for him before addressing his teeth. A few hours later the vet called with the news that Oberon had suffered a heart attack and all efforts to resuscitate him had failed.

When in March of 2016, when we set out to rescue a tiny white Nubian who was failing to thrive, we hadn’t expected to come home with a little brown Oberhasli as well, who, born a month earlier on Valentine’s Day, had been destined for use as a ‘pack goat’. Little white Casper,“the friendly goat” and Oberon were bonded from the beginning. Ober was a good friend, he never argued with his cousins, and was ready for a warm snuggle; he loved to share the tiny house and was always up for a good goat pile. Oberon was a stoic boy who watched and listened and was often deep in thought. When the weather changed Obie didn’t bolt for shelter like his Nubian brothers… he wouldn’t avoid raindrops or snowflakes, and he seemed to enjoy the peace and solitude of the silent goat yard as everyone else was hiding from the elements. Ober was never mischievous, he would watch as members of his herd would topple over carts, chew on yard tools and nibble on volunteer’s clothing, but a good butt scratch and a few treats would win Obie’s heart.  He was never in the way, but always close by…he was a gentle soul, and he will live in our hearts forever.

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