Trog and Other Animals is a petmoir serial. If you wish to start at the beginning go to the page Trog and Other Animal for the links.
Of course I was successful in my application as a haemodialysis nurse at the Nita Reid Community Dialysis Facility. In the country there was little chance of finding registered nurses with dialysis experience and so of course I got the job based on my job history including dialysis. The RN that I worked with had no prior experience so she went to John Hunter Hospital for two weeks training whilst I spent four days there learning the ins and outs of running a dialysis unit. On my return I then worked three days a week in Taree, a journey of seventy-five kilometres each way from where we lived.
This of course meant that Rod was now alone on the farm with only the animals for company, a situation he didn’t much care for. He would complain to me that he couldn’t see himself mowing grass and looking at cows all day long for the rest of his life. He too had to do something. He started looking at opportunities in the area and I felt that my actions had rung the death knell on our time on the farm.
By this time the calves had grown and the males separated and sold at market. It was heart wrenching to listen to the mothers crying for their babies during the weaning process. We kept the female calves to increase our herd. We didn’t think we’d still have our old bull by the time they were ready to mate although again he had got the cows pregnant.
After awhile Rod declared that if he was going to be at home alone he couldn’t do it and proposed that we put the property on the market. I agreed. It had been on the market a month before we had our first viewer. The real estate agent for some reason booked him in to stay in our bed and breakfast. The fellow was over six and a half feet, and carried a fair amount of weight making him wide as well as tall. Our house which was large looked like a dolls house with him in it. No chair was large enough to seat him comfortably and, as he was not an outgoing type, our meal conversation was very stilted. We were all very uncomfortable and of course he did not buy it. The estate agent told us that he thought it was too small a house. In reality he would have had to have a house custom built for him.
Patiently we waited for a purchaser.
© irene waters 2014