On a farm, there are critters. Lots and lots of critters. Eight-legged, six legged, four legged and two-legged. Some critters are domesticated, some are not. (Although there are moments when the supposedly domesticated critters, aren’t.)
We have two dogs: Penny, the Labrador, and Ellie, the Cocker Spaniel. And we have something like 60 barn cats! Okay, okay, that’s an exaggeration. Divide that number by 10 and add one or two. It just seems like we have 60 when we’re buying cat food for them.
At least the barn cats do stuff. Like keep the mice population in check, as well as the gopher, vole and rabbit populations. This is how the barn cats look when they’re doing their barn-cat-thing:
We also have three house cats. Lucy, a seven-year-old-grey crabby tabby, lives most of the time in the basement, supposedly to discourage any mice from coming inside to live. She begs to go outside when it’s warm. Then five minutes later she begs to come back inside. I’m not sure why…probably just because she knows it drives me crazy.
Shelley, our one-year-old-short-haired calico lives on the main floor of the house. She’s a sweet-natured little kitty who lives to please. I’m not a cat person normally. I love cats, don’t get me wrong, but I prefer dogs. But she’s made me a cat person, or at least a Shelley-cat-person. (I’ll post a picture of her in action later.)
Two weeks ago Arya, a long-haired calico, returned to our home. She’d been adopted by my oldest daughter who couldn’t take her to her new apartment. Arya took a week or so to hiss at anything that moved, but finally she’s settled in and taken over. This is how she earns her keep out here on our farm:
Don’t worry. She really is alive. She’s busy warming up my towel basket in the bathroom. She loves the bathroom. Sometimes we find her curled up in the sink. I can only guess that since she’s a long-haired cat, maybe the porcelain helps her to cool off during these hot summer days. But no one really knows why cats do anything. They’re very mysterious.
Except that I’m pretty sure the barn cats hate the indoor cats. They don’t mess with Lucy, she’s crabby. But they pester Shelley a lot. By “they” I mean Pepper, and by “pester” I mean he chases her around and up lots of trees. It usually sounds like she’s dying, but cats make lots of noise when they’re being pestered. I think this is because Shelley knows that when I hear pestering, I come running to the door and holler at Pepper to cut it out, while at the same time coaxing Shelley back inside to relative calm.
To be fair, Arya tries her best with the whole no-mice-in-the-house thing. She sits on top of the gerbil’s cage…patiently waiting. =)