HISTORY OF BUCKEYE FARM
The cat that started it all Fluff. In May 1987, Fluffers, as we liked to call him, was Born. I worked at a Food Broker and was in the advertising. One of the ladies in the office had new kittens and my daughter's 13th birthday was in July, just in time for the kittens to be adopted. She wanted a cat, but her dad wouldn't let her have one. We went and picked out Fluff. She wanted a different one, but I had to have the gray one. We brought him home and hid him in the closet for a long time. Finally little Fluff was found out and dad permitted him to stay in Michele's room. Well, Fluff was My cat. He stayed with me all the time, and Michele got mad. After all, he was her birthday present.
Well, her brother, Scott, felt sorry for her and went to our local pet store and bought her a wonderful Calico, Checkers. Little Checkers has a Checkerboard Square on her nose and mouth area. Thus, the name. She is going to be 14 years old (She passed away on March 8, 2007, my 60th birthday, and was 18 years old.), and lives with my daughter. She is my daughter's cat. When my daughter was here on the Buckeye Farm, we found Checkie one day, unable to walk. We were very poor then and could not take her to the vet, so he put her in a cage so she could not get more sick or hurt. We had no idea what was wrong or if she would live. After about a week, she started to get up a little and we finally figured that she had a broken hip. It healed on its own, but she has a limp. She loved to climb trees, so we thought maybe she fell out of a tree. We have found out since, on of my neighbors has been known to kick my cats. He and his family put food out for the cats on his deck and then when they come there he sometimes kicks them. Well, we haven't had anymore broken hips since Smokey's, because that is when we found out and he was told big time by my daughter. Things appear a little better in that area, at least now he knows and we know.
The next picture is of the original five cats from Ohio. Starting at the upper right, Fluff, Checkers, Buffy, RJ (Reject), and Avalanche. They were the most photographed cats I have ever had. In fact, two of them still have their pictures taken regularly. Checkers, of course, and my Fluff, in his new body. We got RJ next. My sons worked for a photographer and his cat had kittens. He had about 20 cats and asked us to take one. That's how our Family kept growing. RJ was a little Down Syndrome cat. He could not walk across the carpet because his claws would get caught. He did not know how to retract them. He couldn't walk across a beam. He was a very sickly cat, always very small, and always at the vet. Buffy was RJ's niece and her mother was RJ's sister. Well, the photographer said, you have 4 kids, you need 4 cats. Since one of the cats was mine, Fluff, we needed one more. LOL. Avalanche showed up one day and I named him Snowball. But my son said that was too sissy and renamed him Avalanche. I guess you could that's a Big Snowball or a lot of them. RJ was left behind when I left because at $5/hour, I could not afford his medical bills. My ex had him put to sleep. The vet knew how much I loved him and called me at work to ask my permission. I thanks her but told her I couldn't afford to take him, so RJ was killed. The next to pass way was Avie. He developed a bladder problem and I rushed him to the vet late at night, but he was dead on arrival. I didn't realize he was dead and I was talking to him. They rushed him to the back room, but could not save him. Buffy came to Kentucky with us. She lived quite a while, then one day, she just didn't meet me in the driveway when I came home from work. No body, no one saw her, she just was gone. You already know Checker's and Fluff's stories.
Tiffany was our second poodle we rescued. The first was a black poodle named, what else, Blackie. We didn't know he was a poodle. He was just a big ball of matted fur. My father found him in a parking lot and thought the kids would enjoy him. He was a good dog, sometimes. I finally had to find a home somewhere else. Then came Tiffany. She was a year old when her family had enough. She really was a pistol. She died at age 14. She had epilepsy and a failing heart. She walked outside to go to the bathroom and jest fell over. I had her in a box until my husband came home to bury her. All the cats loved to sleep with her. One of them jumped in the box and laid down, jumped out of the box totally confused. Their friend was not warm anymore.
Josey, was my father's dog. When he died in 1980, my mother just couldn't take care of the aging poodle. She was about 14 years old. They had rescued her from a neighbor who just couldn't keep her anymore. Well, Josey was getting up there, and losing some of her health. She needed to be walked a lot, which my father did, but my mother couldn't and she would get mad if Josey made a mistake in the house. So mom called one day and said, "Take Josey to the vet and have her put to sleep". Well, I picked Josey up, and on the way to the bet, she was being her wonderful self, very loving, and I told Josey, she was going to get another chance. I talked to the vet, and he made me believe that if I have Josey some hormones and she got outside enough, she should be ok. She still made mistakes sometimes, but she lived another 2 very happy years. When her hearing went, we still could get her attention by touching her, but when she went blind, she could no longer find her way back into the house. We gave her a very good farewell day, then had her put to sleep. The kids and I stood around crying until it was done, and then we left the vets.
Kelly was rescued from Meijer's parking lot across the street from my vet. I first saw her on a Tuesday at Van Leunen's. It has been below zero that January for about 2 weeks. She was cold and lonely, but also fearful. We couldn't get her to come to us. I then saw her again at the Meijer store. I was visiting my uncle at the bowling alley. I told him about the little dog, and then I left. Out in the parking lot there was a crowd of people around my car. There in the middle of the crowd was the dog. No one wanted to take her. But one man was willing to pick her up and put her in my car. Kelly became our dog. When I took her to the vet, because she was very sick and throwing up blood, he told me that they had been watching her for a month in that parking lot. The staff actually tried to get her so she could be saved. Well, I was the lucky one to get her. She actually could understand spelled words. We could not talk around her because she was so smart. We started to spell things like b-a-t-h and v-e-t and m-e-d-i-c-i-n-e. Well she learned how to spell too. My oldest son really adopted her and she died of cancer after I left my ex.
This is Buster, the Japanese Chihuahua. The day I first saw him, he looked like a miniature German Shepherd. He was 6 months old. Scott, my youngest boy, was 16 and looking for a car. We went to see this car and instead soon got a dog. The lady that had Buster was really mean to him. I said, "That's a cute dog. If you ever decide to get rid of him, let me know". She took my phone number and a few weeks later I got a call. She as going to take him to the pound unless I came and got him right away. So off I went to get Buster.
Max was my first dog in Kentucky. My son had taken Buster off to college. I did get him back for a while when my son left college. Max was from a litter of pups that ran with their mother through our parking lot at the pizza parlor everyday for a month. I finally, when there were only 2 left, went outside and talked to the two that were left. Maxie decided he was mine adn I took him home. He had Mange! At the time, I had 4 white chickens. I kept them in the shed since it was getting cold. The bet said I could not keep Max in the house because the cats (about 7 at that time) would get mange from him, and of course I got it too. One day when I came home from work, Max had jumped into the pen (inside the shed) where I kept the chicken. There he was, looking up at me as to say, "Mommy, why won't the chickens play anymore?". He had sat on them and of course they died. He is a very good natured dog, but not very gentle. When he plays, animals die. The cats have learned to stay away from him, but chickens aren't smart enough. Occasionally, Max has a bloody nose from one of the cats taking a swipe at him. LOL But he doesn't care. He was not a good puppy, and he tored up all the carpet in my bedroom. But I love him.
Honeybear was next. Walter and I went to PetSmart to get something for my fish. My Accountant's wife was outside trying to give puppies away. She asked me to take and I said, "No I can't. No place to keep them and I don't want anymore chained all day." She said the red one I was looking at had been promised to someone who was going to back for her, but she was having second thoughts. Now Susan, rescues mainly dogs in our county. She said, "If I can just take her until Wednesday, I will come get her." I said, "If I take her, she's mine, I won't be able to give her back." She could see I really liked her. On the way home in the truck I named her Honeybear. She looked like a big furry bear and she was the color of honey. Now her long hair is mainly black, with a Chow underfur of cream to red.
Brownie just walked into the yard at the Buckeye Farm one day. I called my neighbor across the street (she knows everyone and all the animals in the neighborhood), I asked her if someone had a little tan puppy. She said, "Yes, You do." LOL She definitely knows me. Well Brownie had been in her barn for 2 weeks and she had tried to find her owner. I bet she told Brownie to cross the road to my house. LOL Brownie is the Best Dog. She trains easily. She even gives "High 5". She is a Pitbull or Pitbull Mix.
Peanut is a 90 pound Chow Mix. His father is a 150 pound Purebred Black Chow from up the road. His father jumped my fence and attacked my young female, Honeybear and hurt her pretty bad. When I got home from work, she was unable to walk, had blood coming from her nose and eyes. I thought maybe she tried to jump the fence and fell. Two months later, she delivered 10, 1 pound puppies. Peanut was the Runt, and he appeared deformed, and at 6 weeks when the others went to a pet store to be adopted, he weighed 5 pounds, and his siblings were all 10-12 pounds. When he was neutered, the bet said even his insides were deformed and he wasn't sure he found everything he needed to fix. In the summer, my big chow, loses all that chow hair, and looks like and Irish Setter.
Tiger, the 3-Legged Wonder, is a very special cat. I had a job at a local tomato packing company, and I would walk on my lunch hour. It was about 90 degrees out, but I had to keep walking up to lose the 10 pounds I had gained. As I was going past this one barn, I heard a little meow. When I turned around, there was a very tiny kitten running after me, dragging his front left leg. I thought maybe he had been hit by a car. I tried to find his owner, but no one would claim him. I asked the one farmer if he could give him some water, as I was still working and it was 90 degrees outside, and I told him I would pick him up after work. The farmer said, "He will be okay until you get back." Well, I picked him up, ran back to work, got in my car, and drove home. I put him in the bathroom, with the promise if he was still alive when I got home, I would take him to the hospital. He was, and I did. The vet took x-rays and said it must be neurological because there were no broken bones. She splinted it to try to help it heal. It didn't get any better but I didn't want to give up. The vet wanted to amputate it. Well, one day when I got home from work, the house was full of blood. Little Tiger had chewed park of his foot off and amputation was now immediately necessary. He healed nicely. He doesn't know he doesn't have that leg. When he uses a litter box, his little shoulder moves just like if he's covering his duty up. He is a very loving cat. And very smart. I am glad to have Tiger.
Tiger died while we were on our Amtrak trip around the US and Vancouver. He had not been doing too well in the horrible heat of the summer, but refused to get along with the basement kitties. So he had to remain outside while we were gone. My daughter found him dead in the yard when she got up one morning. Just too weak to continue. Hindsight is 20/20 and I guess we should have put him in a cage until we returned home, but I had been quite ill and Walter had waited for his retirement and this trip for a long time. Just didn't think clear enough to prevent poor little Tiger's death. We miss him terribly. He was the sweetest little cat anyone could ever have.
Help us continue to rescue the homeless, sick, injured, and helpless animals. Donate today or purchase from our gift shop. Email us for details.
Buckeye Farm, Inc.
805 Lemon-Northcutt Road
Dry Ridge, Kentucky 41035
The cat that started it all Fluff. In May 1987, Fluffers, as we liked to call him, was Born. I worked at a Food Broker and was in the advertising. One of the ladies in the office had new kittens and my daughter's 13th birthday was in July, just in time for the kittens to be adopted. She wanted a cat, but her dad wouldn't let her have one. We went and picked out Fluff. She wanted a different one, but I had to have the gray one. We brought him home and hid him in the closet for a long time. Finally little Fluff was found out and dad permitted him to stay in Michele's room. Well, Fluff was My cat. He stayed with me all the time, and Michele got mad. After all, he was her birthday present.
Well, her brother, Scott, felt sorry for her and went to our local pet store and bought her a wonderful Calico, Checkers. Little Checkers has a Checkerboard Square on her nose and mouth area. Thus, the name. She is going to be 14 years old (She passed away on March 8, 2007, my 60th birthday, and was 18 years old.), and lives with my daughter. She is my daughter's cat. When my daughter was here on the Buckeye Farm, we found Checkie one day, unable to walk. We were very poor then and could not take her to the vet, so he put her in a cage so she could not get more sick or hurt. We had no idea what was wrong or if she would live. After about a week, she started to get up a little and we finally figured that she had a broken hip. It healed on its own, but she has a limp. She loved to climb trees, so we thought maybe she fell out of a tree. We have found out since, on of my neighbors has been known to kick my cats. He and his family put food out for the cats on his deck and then when they come there he sometimes kicks them. Well, we haven't had anymore broken hips since Smokey's, because that is when we found out and he was told big time by my daughter. Things appear a little better in that area, at least now he knows and we know.
The next picture is of the original five cats from Ohio. Starting at the upper right, Fluff, Checkers, Buffy, RJ (Reject), and Avalanche. They were the most photographed cats I have ever had. In fact, two of them still have their pictures taken regularly. Checkers, of course, and my Fluff, in his new body. We got RJ next. My sons worked for a photographer and his cat had kittens. He had about 20 cats and asked us to take one. That's how our Family kept growing. RJ was a little Down Syndrome cat. He could not walk across the carpet because his claws would get caught. He did not know how to retract them. He couldn't walk across a beam. He was a very sickly cat, always very small, and always at the vet. Buffy was RJ's niece and her mother was RJ's sister. Well, the photographer said, you have 4 kids, you need 4 cats. Since one of the cats was mine, Fluff, we needed one more. LOL. Avalanche showed up one day and I named him Snowball. But my son said that was too sissy and renamed him Avalanche. I guess you could that's a Big Snowball or a lot of them. RJ was left behind when I left because at $5/hour, I could not afford his medical bills. My ex had him put to sleep. The vet knew how much I loved him and called me at work to ask my permission. I thanks her but told her I couldn't afford to take him, so RJ was killed. The next to pass way was Avie. He developed a bladder problem and I rushed him to the vet late at night, but he was dead on arrival. I didn't realize he was dead and I was talking to him. They rushed him to the back room, but could not save him. Buffy came to Kentucky with us. She lived quite a while, then one day, she just didn't meet me in the driveway when I came home from work. No body, no one saw her, she just was gone. You already know Checker's and Fluff's stories.
Tiffany was our second poodle we rescued. The first was a black poodle named, what else, Blackie. We didn't know he was a poodle. He was just a big ball of matted fur. My father found him in a parking lot and thought the kids would enjoy him. He was a good dog, sometimes. I finally had to find a home somewhere else. Then came Tiffany. She was a year old when her family had enough. She really was a pistol. She died at age 14. She had epilepsy and a failing heart. She walked outside to go to the bathroom and jest fell over. I had her in a box until my husband came home to bury her. All the cats loved to sleep with her. One of them jumped in the box and laid down, jumped out of the box totally confused. Their friend was not warm anymore.
Josey, was my father's dog. When he died in 1980, my mother just couldn't take care of the aging poodle. She was about 14 years old. They had rescued her from a neighbor who just couldn't keep her anymore. Well, Josey was getting up there, and losing some of her health. She needed to be walked a lot, which my father did, but my mother couldn't and she would get mad if Josey made a mistake in the house. So mom called one day and said, "Take Josey to the vet and have her put to sleep". Well, I picked Josey up, and on the way to the bet, she was being her wonderful self, very loving, and I told Josey, she was going to get another chance. I talked to the vet, and he made me believe that if I have Josey some hormones and she got outside enough, she should be ok. She still made mistakes sometimes, but she lived another 2 very happy years. When her hearing went, we still could get her attention by touching her, but when she went blind, she could no longer find her way back into the house. We gave her a very good farewell day, then had her put to sleep. The kids and I stood around crying until it was done, and then we left the vets.
Kelly was rescued from Meijer's parking lot across the street from my vet. I first saw her on a Tuesday at Van Leunen's. It has been below zero that January for about 2 weeks. She was cold and lonely, but also fearful. We couldn't get her to come to us. I then saw her again at the Meijer store. I was visiting my uncle at the bowling alley. I told him about the little dog, and then I left. Out in the parking lot there was a crowd of people around my car. There in the middle of the crowd was the dog. No one wanted to take her. But one man was willing to pick her up and put her in my car. Kelly became our dog. When I took her to the vet, because she was very sick and throwing up blood, he told me that they had been watching her for a month in that parking lot. The staff actually tried to get her so she could be saved. Well, I was the lucky one to get her. She actually could understand spelled words. We could not talk around her because she was so smart. We started to spell things like b-a-t-h and v-e-t and m-e-d-i-c-i-n-e. Well she learned how to spell too. My oldest son really adopted her and she died of cancer after I left my ex.
This is Buster, the Japanese Chihuahua. The day I first saw him, he looked like a miniature German Shepherd. He was 6 months old. Scott, my youngest boy, was 16 and looking for a car. We went to see this car and instead soon got a dog. The lady that had Buster was really mean to him. I said, "That's a cute dog. If you ever decide to get rid of him, let me know". She took my phone number and a few weeks later I got a call. She as going to take him to the pound unless I came and got him right away. So off I went to get Buster.
Max was my first dog in Kentucky. My son had taken Buster off to college. I did get him back for a while when my son left college. Max was from a litter of pups that ran with their mother through our parking lot at the pizza parlor everyday for a month. I finally, when there were only 2 left, went outside and talked to the two that were left. Maxie decided he was mine adn I took him home. He had Mange! At the time, I had 4 white chickens. I kept them in the shed since it was getting cold. The bet said I could not keep Max in the house because the cats (about 7 at that time) would get mange from him, and of course I got it too. One day when I came home from work, Max had jumped into the pen (inside the shed) where I kept the chicken. There he was, looking up at me as to say, "Mommy, why won't the chickens play anymore?". He had sat on them and of course they died. He is a very good natured dog, but not very gentle. When he plays, animals die. The cats have learned to stay away from him, but chickens aren't smart enough. Occasionally, Max has a bloody nose from one of the cats taking a swipe at him. LOL But he doesn't care. He was not a good puppy, and he tored up all the carpet in my bedroom. But I love him.
Honeybear was next. Walter and I went to PetSmart to get something for my fish. My Accountant's wife was outside trying to give puppies away. She asked me to take and I said, "No I can't. No place to keep them and I don't want anymore chained all day." She said the red one I was looking at had been promised to someone who was going to back for her, but she was having second thoughts. Now Susan, rescues mainly dogs in our county. She said, "If I can just take her until Wednesday, I will come get her." I said, "If I take her, she's mine, I won't be able to give her back." She could see I really liked her. On the way home in the truck I named her Honeybear. She looked like a big furry bear and she was the color of honey. Now her long hair is mainly black, with a Chow underfur of cream to red.
Brownie just walked into the yard at the Buckeye Farm one day. I called my neighbor across the street (she knows everyone and all the animals in the neighborhood), I asked her if someone had a little tan puppy. She said, "Yes, You do." LOL She definitely knows me. Well Brownie had been in her barn for 2 weeks and she had tried to find her owner. I bet she told Brownie to cross the road to my house. LOL Brownie is the Best Dog. She trains easily. She even gives "High 5". She is a Pitbull or Pitbull Mix.
Peanut is a 90 pound Chow Mix. His father is a 150 pound Purebred Black Chow from up the road. His father jumped my fence and attacked my young female, Honeybear and hurt her pretty bad. When I got home from work, she was unable to walk, had blood coming from her nose and eyes. I thought maybe she tried to jump the fence and fell. Two months later, she delivered 10, 1 pound puppies. Peanut was the Runt, and he appeared deformed, and at 6 weeks when the others went to a pet store to be adopted, he weighed 5 pounds, and his siblings were all 10-12 pounds. When he was neutered, the bet said even his insides were deformed and he wasn't sure he found everything he needed to fix. In the summer, my big chow, loses all that chow hair, and looks like and Irish Setter.
Tiger, the 3-Legged Wonder, is a very special cat. I had a job at a local tomato packing company, and I would walk on my lunch hour. It was about 90 degrees out, but I had to keep walking up to lose the 10 pounds I had gained. As I was going past this one barn, I heard a little meow. When I turned around, there was a very tiny kitten running after me, dragging his front left leg. I thought maybe he had been hit by a car. I tried to find his owner, but no one would claim him. I asked the one farmer if he could give him some water, as I was still working and it was 90 degrees outside, and I told him I would pick him up after work. The farmer said, "He will be okay until you get back." Well, I picked him up, ran back to work, got in my car, and drove home. I put him in the bathroom, with the promise if he was still alive when I got home, I would take him to the hospital. He was, and I did. The vet took x-rays and said it must be neurological because there were no broken bones. She splinted it to try to help it heal. It didn't get any better but I didn't want to give up. The vet wanted to amputate it. Well, one day when I got home from work, the house was full of blood. Little Tiger had chewed park of his foot off and amputation was now immediately necessary. He healed nicely. He doesn't know he doesn't have that leg. When he uses a litter box, his little shoulder moves just like if he's covering his duty up. He is a very loving cat. And very smart. I am glad to have Tiger.
Tiger died while we were on our Amtrak trip around the US and Vancouver. He had not been doing too well in the horrible heat of the summer, but refused to get along with the basement kitties. So he had to remain outside while we were gone. My daughter found him dead in the yard when she got up one morning. Just too weak to continue. Hindsight is 20/20 and I guess we should have put him in a cage until we returned home, but I had been quite ill and Walter had waited for his retirement and this trip for a long time. Just didn't think clear enough to prevent poor little Tiger's death. We miss him terribly. He was the sweetest little cat anyone could ever have.
Help us continue to rescue the homeless, sick, injured, and helpless animals. Donate today or purchase from our gift shop. Email us for details.
Buckeye Farm, Inc.
805 Lemon-Northcutt Road
Dry Ridge, Kentucky 41035