Once upon a time a little boy named Owen loved his cat so much that the cat, having the aloof personality of most cats, decided to excuse himself to the barn and never return. The end. At least that was the end of that relationship. We do see that cat once in a while. I guess when he can’t find enough mice or whatever he’s been living on, he does appear once in a while for cat food, but very rarely, and definitely not when Owen is around. He’ll eat a few bites after I’ve given him some distance and then he’ll run off again, leaving the rest for the raccoons. Living the semi-feral life must be a more relaxing prospect than being the overly adored cat of a little boy. Random John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men reference coming because that’s just what I do: Owen to cats is Lennie to mice. Well, not to the extreme, but Owen did pet too hard, hug too long, and demand that cat’s attention at every waking hour. The cat decided that he’d had enough of Owen and decided being a barn cat was more his thing. If you’re one of those people like myself that cringe when someone walks up to you with arms wide open for a hug, you probably understand the horror this poor cat was put through. That cat now lives peacefully at a distance. Now that Owen is a little older, we decided that he deserved a pet because he seems to understand the importance of space (most of the time, unless someone is eating chips and salsa and then that’s all out the window). I would really, really love a dog, but we wanted to start with an animal that is a bit more independent, and what animal is more independent than a cat? And they scare away mice, and what attracts mice more than a little farmhouse surrounded by empty spaces? In mid-September, a friend posted some very cute kittens that even had a fall theme going on with black and orange coats. So far, the mice have been scared away by our wee little pets - meet Milo and Catsy Farmer. I tried to convince the youngest that he should name his cat Otis, or Blacky, or even Catsy Pline, but no, he knew that this cat’s name was suppose to be Catsy Farmer, and in case you were wondering, it’s full name is Catsy Tidbits Farmer. Don’t ask me why. I’m guessing the 5-year-old just heard the word "tidbits" for the first time and thought it sounded fantastic. So what we’re working on now is not scaring his cat away. We are practicing gentle petting and hugs, and even spreading the love around. It was a wise idea to get a cat for each boy. When Owen gets too attached to his own cat, and Catsy Farmer starts looking a bit like the psycho cat from the 1989 Pet Sematary, then I kindly suggest that he give Milo a bit of attention. Milo does not appreciate this at all, but it’s keeping them both semi- happy. Let’s hope we can convince these two kittens that we are worthy humans. So far so good. Besides when the sheep stampeded through the yard scaring our poor kittens into the trash can to only be coaxed out by hunger, they've been very content. My husband says they are a pair made for our boys because, as he puts it, “All they do is eat, sleep, and fight.” Truer words have never been spoken. Get the book Desperate Farmwives!
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AuthorThis is my therapeutic release for all the things that annoy me about living on a farm. If I can make it humorous, I can survive it. |