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What's Missing at Pine Knot?

    If you have come to Pine Knot before you may remember we are particularly fond of our dogs and cats. We are sad to say we lost four members of our furry family. Three were 18 year old cats, two were born here and the third found us when he was a starving stray. A pitiful orange and white tom cat came one day in August when the Eupatorium purpureum was blooming along our roadsides. Although we already had four cats we could not turn this fellow down, so Mr. Joe Pye Weed joined our family. Joe designated himself nursery greet cat and he took his duties seriously, frequently accompanying customers around the whole nursery. He would go out with the potting crew and settle into a flat to supervise or help with the transplanting by walking down each flat of seedlings watching for mice. Joe had the kindest, most friendly nature we have met in a cat, he liked everyone. From the first this stray wasn't afraid of our dogs, of small children or strangers as is the case with many cats. His purr rumbled in his chest from the day he came until he died in my arms. Joe Pye Weed

    White Socks and Baby Shirt were born at the farm. Our daughter Helen and her house mates adopted two kittens while they were at N.C.S.U. When Helen brought the two sisters home on Spring Break. As sometimes happens during Spring Break both girls met an intriguing country tom and the Girls Went Wild. When they came back to the farm for Summer Break both were heavily pregnant. Not too many days later they had kittens. The litters were combined and the new mothers shared their duties, each nursing all the kittens in her turn. After a few days it was impossible to tell which kitten went with which mother. Three of the young ones became our cats. Popsicle, and orange and white tom, White Socks a gray and white female and Baby Shirt a tabby male. White Socks enjoyed her kitten-hood outside and for a couple of years was known as a Butterfly Destroyer. She would leap four feet into the air to capture a butterfly innocently feeding on a Buddliea bloom. She would come in with wings sticking out of each side of her mouth. After several years Socks decided she preferred indoor living and usually stayed inside unless we were late coming in from work. Then she would come out to the end of the walk in her White Socks and howl at us. If no one responded in the proper amount of time she would come out to the shipping house and most indignantly, remind us it was way past time to come inside and give the kitties their after work snack.(Chick on image at left to see a larger photo of Dick and our 6 cats at snack time.) Socks spent the last few years of her life in a basket on our kitchen counter where she could supervise the preparation of any food stuff that might be acceptable to cats. Socks died peacefully in her sleep, a gentle old lady. White Socks in a Tree

     Baby Shirt chose me (Judith) to be his person when he was just a few days old. He would stumble out of the kitten nest at the sound of my voice even before his eyes were open. His name, Baby Shirt and Pants, was derived from the fact that when he was a kitten his fur was darker on his hind end than on the front end. This gave his the appearance of wearing a shirt and a pair of pants. He was a small cat, never more than 5 or 6 pounds, but in his heart he was a lion. For 18 years he would greet me each morning, and accompany me through my day. He would ride on my shoulder, with his front paws hanging on to my back and his hind end cupped in my hand. sit on my computer, in my chair, help me with whatever I was doing and sleep beside me each night. Baby sat with me patiently every hour as I wrote and came running when I called his name at bedtime. His fur smelled of sunshine and moss and his purr warmed my soul. I loved him unreservedly and I see his shadow everywhere I go. Baby Shirt in my chair

Tristan was one of the sweetest Labs we have ever had the honour to share our lives with. Like all of us, he had a few problems. One of the most noticeable being his obsession with sticks of any kind. When he was a puppy we spent time tossing sticks for him. He loved it above all else and began to want any and every stick he saw. If we threw a stick out of the garden he would charge through the border to retrieve the stick. He was a Labrador Retriever after all. It didn't matter to him if an old lady happened to be using that stick to walk, "Hey, she has two!" he thought, as he ripped one of the canes from her hand. A friend who was assisted by a beautiful carved African walking stick visited one day and Tris came barreling up behind him and grabbed the stick in his teeth, almost upending our friend. It became apparent even to us, perhaps the dullest of parents, that our puppy had outgrown his cute stick play. We were forced to limit, then restrict, then totally eliminate his stick play. We bought soft toys. We bought hard toys, none were as good as just plain old sticks. Visitors to the gardens, especially those with children would see this adorable dog come running up to them with a stick in his mouth. When he dropped the stick at their feet they understood his request and tossed the stick for him. A couple of times he almost up ended a baby or two to get a stick. We put a sign in the parking area which read "Please do not toss sticks for dogs" hoping this would help prevent visitors from supporting his habit. Tris had other ideas though. He would greet visitors with a stick in his mouth and when they opened the door to their car he would drop it in their laps, hoping they hadn't seen the sign. We never understood why such a number of people ignored the sign. Finally his stick chasing slowed down, not by anything his sapless humans did, but by his bad hips. As the years went by he became more and more infirm. Our wonderful veterinarian Dr Alan Dahl who has assisted so many of our animals (and saved Rosie's life!) did all he could to ease Tris's pain. Clarksville Vet. Clinic We were even to the state of beginning to discuss the Awful Option but couldn't bring ourselves to have a friend put down as long as his tail thumped with such joy when we entered the room. While we were at PPA in the summer of 2007 we received the telephone call telling us that Tris had died. Tris

2009 was a tough year at Pine Knot in many ways, the economy has put many stresses on us as well as most other small businesses, but we lost two old friends as well. Our Ivy dog died on the second Hellebores Festival Weekend. This was the dog Dick found on the side of the road who appeared dead on the trip into town but had changed his position on Dick's return. Dick stopped the van, walked over to the dog who looked up at him and thumped his tail. The dog had been beaten, starved and was so infested with fleas, ticks and internal parasites that we couldn't even bring him into the house until he'd been treated by our vet. Ivy also had heartworms when Dick found him and after treatment his congenital heart disease left him with lifelong breathing problems. Even with all his problems Ivy was one of the sweetest, most devoted natured animals we've ever known. He "fattened up" nicely and for the rest of his life he was a happy dog. The last three years of his life he was blind, but this did not seem to bother him very much, he followed us every step and enjoyed every bit of attention given to him. Ivy

Along with Ivy we lost Popsicle, the last of our "Hand Raised Kittens", brother of Socks and Baby Shirt. Pops, Mr. Ickle, Poppie, Ickley Bits, Icky Poo, or Poppie C. Ickle, he had many names, was the Top Cat in our house for over 21 years. He was in such good health that when we took him in for a checkup our vet's new assistant couldn't believe that he was 20 years old. He lived his life as we should all live ours, to the fullest, never doing anything he did not want to do and enjoying everything he did. He was Dick's special cat as Baby Shirt was mine. The last year or so of his life when Dick would come into the house Pops would hear him and come running, then he'd stand and yowl till Dick sat down and "Made Lap". As far as Popsie was concerned, Dick was around for two things, opening cans and making lap. He died in his sleep, on his sofa

loved by all his family. Who could ask for more? Pops

Pine Knot Farms
681 Rockchurch Road
Clarksville Virginia, 23927