Karbon Kounty Moos

If you’ve been visiting here for a while, you know that I share my life with three dogs. In case I didn’t have enough to deal with, they have been keeping me occupied with their health concerns.

Almost eleven years ago the Sugar Beet Baron picked out a puppy and named him Ty. About eight years ago, Ty had a run in with a sickle mower. Thanks to our vet, Ty and his leg were saved. If he gets nervous Ty has a tendency to bite on that leg. When my husband was sick, all of the dogs sensed that something was wrong. Our friends took good care of them while we lived at the hospital. I would come home to do laundry and pick up the mail. The dogs would be thrilled to see me. When when they realized that I was leaving again - they’d get upset. Right after my husband’s funeral, Ty began limping badly on his front legs. The vet started him on an arthritis medicine. Within days he stopped limping, and seemed to be less stiff. But he continues gnawing on his back leg. Nothing stops him. He has grown accustomed to wearing his Elizabethan collar.

I took the collar off him for a bit the other night. While I was talking to him and scratching his neck I noticed that he had an ear infection. I cleaned his ears and by the time I put the collar back on - he had chewed his leg bloody. I packed some gauze with ointment and taped it up. The next morning the bandage was still on. I gave him his arthritis medicine and his anti-anxiety pill. Then I saw that Lucky’s toe was bloody and swollen. I soaked her foot in an Epsom salt bath and fooled her into taking her daily incontinence medicine. It was too early to call the vet. When I came back in from irrigating, Ty had the tape on his leg, but he had eaten most of the gauze. I called the vet and managed to get an appointment for both of them. After putting leashes on them, and sheets on the car seats - we were ready to roll. I don’t like to take Ty for rides because he barks constantly. Lucky is quiet and polite, so she sat up front. Ty was in the back - swinging his head wildly, slapping plastic into the headrests, barking through his megaphone. I drove the twelve miles as fast as I could. Not out of a medical urgency - I was afraid that I might wreck the car due to eighty-eight pounds of maniac dogflesh in the back seat. At the vet’s office his behaviour didn’t improve.

Lucky went first. She has an infection in the nailbed. We’re hoping that it responds to the antibiotics. Ty’s ear isn’t serious, but I do have some ointment for that. He had some x-rays, which showed that there’s nothing new (or bad) going on. The combination of scar tissue and anxiety are more than he can resist. We drove home with more medications and the same amount of noise.

BELFRY, Montana - Allan was born April 8, 1952, in Red Lodge, to Rudolph and Mary (Wennemar) Hergenrider, the oldest of four children. Allan was raised on the family farm outside of Belfry, and attended Belfry schools and Northwest Community College in Powell, Wyo. While growing up, he developed a love for farming as he worked with his father and uncles. Allan formed an especially close bond with his Uncle Johnnie. Allan had an incredible work ethic and was unbelievably strong. Allan was a lifelong resident of Carbon County, farming all his life. He took delight in watching the fruits of his labor - the crops he was known for - and the cattle that he raised. Allan enjoyed John Deere tractors, chicken fried steak and a good piece of peach pie.

He had a keen interest in the history of the Clarks Fork Valley, where all his ancestors had settled in the early 1900’s. Allan had an incredible memory - for names, dates and family ties. He could tell you what he was doing and what the weather was like on any given day. Allan was a familiar sight on Dutch Lane, driving his orange Ford pickup or Kawasaki Mule - always with a dog or three. Ty, Lucky and Sugar are lost without him.

Allan met Karen Pappas in Red Lodge, where he proceeded to drag her out on the dance floor. He loved to dance. Allan forgave her for her two left feet, and they were married in Red Lodge on April 29, 1995. Karen joined Allan and Rudy in the farming operation. They considered her a good hand for a girl from “back east.” Allan and Karen shared the joy of her first pregnancy, thrilled with the idea of starting a family. Together, they suffered its loss. Joyful the following year when they somehow managed to beat the odds, devastated when they lost again.

Allan was sick and in pain most of the summer. Somehow, he managed to get his irrigating done, fences built, cattle moved, and his crops harvested. Allan was finally diagnosed with pancreatic cancer the day before Thanksgiving. With Karen, he spent more time in the hospital than at home, fighting as hard as he could for months. Allan was determined to come home. He was able to do that with the help of Beartooth Hospice. Allan died peacefully at home on Tuesday morning, March 28, 2006.

Allan was preceded in death by his grandparents; his mother, Mary in 1991; and mother-in-law, Sarah Pappas in 2005. He is survived by his wife, Karen; father, Rudy (Clara) Hergenrider of Belfry; sister, Lynette (Dick) Rudio of Billings; brother, Les Hergenrider of Billings; sister Joy Lynn (Jack) Walker of Spokane, Wash.; nieces, nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews. He is also survived by several aunts and uncles; too many cousins to mention and many, many, friends.

Allan and Karen thank everyone for all their help, prayers and thoughts during this time. We are especially grateful to Pastor Tim Daub; Linda Wald, diabetes educator and angel; Les Hergenrider; Don Rudio; Duane Hergenrider; Lynn and Jan Hildebrand; and Allan’s favorite nurses from the third floor of Billings Clinic: Astrid, Connie, Jamie and Kelly.

Funeral services were held at 2 p.m. Monday, April 3, at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Bridger. Interment was in the Belfry Cemetery, with a reception following at the Belfry School. Smith-Olcott Funeral Chapel of Red Lodge was is in charge of arrangements.

Memorials may be given to Beartooth Hospice, Box 590, Red Lodge MT 59068; or to Special K Ranch, Box 479, Columbus MT 59019.

Published in the Billings Gazette on 3/31/2006.

Guestbook on Legacy

08 April 1952 - 28 March 2006

I know your life
Sometimes was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren’t afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Allan, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We’ll gather round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels’ faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain
Allan, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son

(lyrics “borrowed” from Vince Gill)

Yesterday, the Sugar Beet Baron, the dogs and myself camped out in the bedroom. We had some new flooring installed, and we left the crew to their own devices. It looks wonderful. Now everything is covered with a fine coat of dust. If you’ve been here - you know that it usually is dust covered - but there’s never been anything fine about it before. I’m also still searching for things. . .

There’s a storm across the valley
Clouds are rollin’ in
The afternoon is heavy on your shoulders
There’s a truck out on the four lane
A mile or more away
The whinin’ of his wheels just makes it colder
He’s an hour away from riding
On your prayers up in the sky
And ten days on the road are barely gone
There’s a fire softly burning
Supper’s on the stove
There’s a light in your eyes that makes him warm
Hey it’s good to be back home again
Sometimes this old farm

Feels like a long lost friend.
Yes and hey it’s good to be back home again
After all the news to tell him
How’d you spent your time?
And what’s the latest thing the neighbors say?
And your mother called last friday?
‘Sunshine’ made her cry
And you felt the baby move just yesterday
Hey it’s good to be back home again
Sometimes this old farm
Feels like a long lost friend.
Yes and hey it’s good to be back home again. . .

*********

We were back in the hospital again -
but now we’re home.

Click on photo for LARGE view.

Another reason why those in agriculture always say, “we need the moisture”.

When you look into my eyes
And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul
It always comes as a surprise
When I feel my withered roots begin to grow
Well I never had a place that I could call my very own
That’s all right, my love, ’cause you’re my home

When you touch my weary head
And you tell me everything will be all right
You say, “Use my body for your bed
And my love will keep you warm throughout the night”
Well I’ll never be a stranger and I’ll never be alone
Whenever we’re together, that’s my home

Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike
Indiana’s early morning dew
High up in the hills of California
Home is just another word for you

Well I never had a place that I could call my very own
That’s all right, my love, ’cause you’re my home

If I travel all my life
And I never get to stop and settle down
Long as I have you by my side
There’s a roof above and good walls all around
You’re my castle, you’re my cabin and my instant pleasure dome
I need you in my house ’cause you’re my home.
You’re my home.

You’re my home.

(Hat tip to Billy Joel for the lyrics.)

The Sugar Beet Baron and I are happy to be home. The pack is thrilled to have us here, too. We’re hoping to be here for a long, long time.

On second thought, get a rope. Then again, maybe I should reach out to some old friends from Queens. This qualifies as “a deserving to be hung out a window by the ankles offense”:

I had just brought my husband home from Red Lodge, where he had some blood drawn for labs. The Sugar Beet Baron wasn’t feeling right and had just laid down. I decided to check his blood sugar, to be sure that nothing else was going on. It was okay. The phone rang while I was reading the glucometer. For some reason, I picked it up.

Caller: Can I talk to the Baron?

Me: May I ask who’s calling?

Caller: John Doe.
(Who I do not know personally, but I know is an auctioneer.)

Me: May I ask what this is in reference to? My husband has been sick, and he is resting right now.

John Doe: I didn’t know that he was sick. I’m calling because I heard that your father-in-law and the Baron are selling the farm and all the equipment.

Me: This is the first that I’ve heard of it.

John Doe: Well, I’m with Dough Auctioneering and our business. . .

Me (interrupting): I just told you that as the Baron’s wife, I haven’t heard anything about selling. So, if you heard that my father-in-law is selling, maybe you should be calling him.
(This is when I hung up.)

*************************

A few hours later, I was in the yard, filling bird feeders. A Suburban pulled into the yard. An area realtor got out.

Me: The Baron isn’t up to company.
(Let’s not bring up the fact that you’ve never been company before.)

Realtor: Is he really, really bad?

Me: No, he’s really, really resting.

Then we lapsed further into the realm of the ridiculous. He asked questions as I answered them, wondering why we were having a conversation in the first place.

He went back to his Chevy and said, ” Oh, before I forget, I have something for you.” He handed me three sheets of paper that he’d printed off the internet - another cancer cure. I went inside before I threw it away.

********************

The next morning I decided to call John Doe.

Me: May I ask who I’m speaking with?

John Doe: This is John Doe.

Me: Good. This is Moos and I wanted to speak with you in regards to the telephone conversation that we had yesterday. I think that the conversation should have ended once I told you that my husband had been sick.

John Doe: I think that there was a misunderstanding. You don’t understand my business.

Me: No, I don’t think that I misunderstood. I think that if you couldn’t have ended the conversation I understood completely. You continued on, telling how “you heard that we were selling the farm and all the equipment”. I told you that I didn’t know anything about that, and you just kept right on going.

John Doe: You don’t understand my business.

Me: And then you have to tell me about “your business”. I do not live under a rock. I know who you are and what “your business” is.

John Doe: You don’t understand my business.

Me: I wasn’t aware that you drummed up business like a vulture.
(Hung up.)

**************

And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The letter from John Doe. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Dear Mrs. Moos:

The purpose of this is to convey to you my sincere apologies for any offense you may have experienced with respect to my call on Monday.

I noticed a sort of general feeling of unfriendliness, and I knew that I must have done something wrong when I called. I will not even begin to give an explanation to what led up to my call, but I’d like to take this time to say I’m terribly sorry to you and the Baron. I would prefer speaking in person, but I sense that would not be of interest to you.

Let me assure you that what happened in your case is not typical of John Doe’s level of customer service. We continue to be committed to providing you and all of our customers with the highest standards of service in the industry.

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to call me at ———–.

Sincerely,
John Doe

Those who truly care about my husband.

Those who have gone out of their way to help.

Those who’ve sent sincere cards, wishes, thoughts and prayers.

The family that has always been there for us.

The friends - old & new.

Those who have stayed connected and tried to make things easier.

The nurses, doctors and all the health care workers.

The dentist, who has managed to fit me in on a second’s notice.

The crew at Archie Cochrane Ford who made me cry - in a good way.

Thank you all.

The Baron and I were in his hospital room. He was tired, finally able to relax. I was in the recliner, also trying to rest my eyes. Earlier, he had hung up on yet another upsetting phone caller. There had been too many visitors who stayed too long that day. Our Care Coordinator came in and told us that there were some ladies from his church outside to see him. Allan told her that he just wanted to get some sleep. I offered to tell them, but the Care Coordinator said she’d tell them.

Moments later, our Care Coordinator came in, with a stricken look on her face. One of the “ladies from the church” had asked her, “Is he softly slipping?”.

Our Care Coordinator had to hold me back.

Any thoughts?