Pussywillows, Cattails is the actual title of one of my favorite Gordon Lightfoot songs but this is actually a tale about tails.....cat tails....inspired by onetoejeff's blog about the possible loss of his beloved cat Princess aka Bitch view link . In my response, I named all the cats that claimed ownership of my heart and home and thought now may be a fitting time to relate how I became known as the cat house owner.
Long ago, in a far distant time of my life, my ex and I bought our dream....lovingly called Green Acres.....a 33 acre civil war era former cattle farm. Often referred to as my first "house from hell" but that's because I was raised in the 'burbs and my only experience with farming was to visit my uncles place so we could go tease the bull down the road. Maybe I'll tell the tale of Green Acres in another blog....quite an experience in ways you'd never, ever imagine....but it changed my life in many ways.....but this is, after all, a story about my feline herd......
Before moving out to the farm, my daughter & I pestered her dad about getting a horse.....we had barns galore and lots of pasture so why not. He said "HELL NO".....horses only intention is to kill you (honest, he said that!!).....so we bought a four-wheeler.....duh, Duh, DUH!!! When we finally settled in, my daughter asked for a barn cat......the ex HATES cats....would've rather shot em then petted em.....but the daughter promised that the cat would remain outside and live in the barn......HAH!!
So we got a "used" cat from friends.....a scrawny, orange, female mouser named Jingles who rather quickly adapted to the faux farm life and who never once tried to escape to her former home (that we know of). But one day I noticed that the once scrawny cat was putting on weight in the middle section.....and it dawned on me.....she's not fixed......holy chit, she's preggers.....and the ex was not pleased....LOL.
She started hanging around the house a lot more and loved the big front porch under the huge oak trees......so we set up a box on the front porch hoping she's have her kittens there. She rewarded us with 7 kittens....mostly orange tabbies with a couple of weird gray ones too.....and she chose to keep them in the box rather then hide them from us (much to the ex's chagrin....LOL). But because they resided under the oaks, there were lots of raccoons that hung out in the area......and the coons started showing up on the porch and showing an interest in the kitties....and fighting with Jingles who was a real scrapper. So we moved the whole kit and kaboodle into the house with the promise to Oscar the Grouch (nee ex) that as soon as the kittens got old enough to fend for themselves, everyone would go back outside. Uh huh......fiendish plan, eh?
Never having had cats before (my mom was like the ex....hated cats....and dogs....we had birds & fish....**ugh**), helping to raise a brood was a fun experiment and I believed in lots of hands-on interaction so the kittens were very social and great fun to play with (and my attention was easily diverted from more important things like keeping house). Now came the task of finding homes for as many kitties as I could....but rule number one was that I had to KNOW the people I was giving them to or at least having a recommendation from other friends that they would have a good home.....but I easily placed 4 of the 7.....and life went on as "normal" (another story) and the herd became inside/outsiders......and Oscar was not a happy camper.
But, as mentioned, I was an amateur cat herder and didn't realize the cat facts of life.....horrors.....cats CAN become pregnant while nursing.....and Jingles did.....and we went through the whole cycle all over again....but now I had a reputation of raising social kitties so finding homes for a couple of the latest litter was fairly easy. And Jingles made a trip to the vet's office for surgery so I wouldn't have any more surprises.
During this time, we were helping out a fledgling recycling company started by a friend of ours who we allowed storage of bags and bags of shredded paper in our big dairy barn while she amassed enough to market to another company. She had arrived with a new load and was out in the barn working but took a break to come get me to see what she'd found......an extremely scrawny, starving black & white kitten who was eating the paper to stay alive. My heart broke in two....poor baby.....and I took her in and started to feed her.....and she ate & ate & ate....but still remained scrawny & sickly.....so I took her to my vet. First question was "will she live?".....second question "if she lives, when can I get her fixed?".....I had learned something about female cats....finally. Vet said, yes she'll definitely live.....and she's too young to get preggers. OK, he's the expert.....LOL.....WRONG-O!!! Less then a month later, it was obvious she was either over-eating or she was expecting. HEH!
My beautiful Oreo produced the most adorable litter of 4 kittens which quickly became spoken for by friends.....but Ms Oreo made a quick trip to the vets after that!.....but by then all the girls had been fixed and I was working my way through the boys too.....gotta be a responsible pet owner despite my reputation of being an excellent herdswoman.
At any given time, I had 9 cats that walked in & out that farmhouse door on a daily basis. They were all loved and taken care of......although Oscar was never pleased. Oh well, he's now the ex.....and I miss the cats more then I do him.
I now have Pookie (an Oreo look alike) who's my best buddy.....he either sleeps on my (bad) shoulder or curled up between me and my body pillow....a foundling from across the road from my second "house from hell"......and Sissy, my son-in-law's cat that he rescued from starvation. He gave me Sissy after I lost my beautiful sweetie, Miss Molly, a tortoise-shell spitfire that I lost unexpectedly on Christmas day while recovering from my surgery. Nothing like spending Christmas afternoon lying on the bathroom floor crying my eyes out watching her die and not being able to do a thing to comfort her.....still brings tears to my eyes.
So, you can see that I'm a sucker for the little buggers. Lots of folks say when their present pet goes, that they're done with getting any replacements. Not me.....I know I'll always have a cat house.
In loving memory of......Jingles, Velcro, Oreo, Jacob, Sherbet, Cheech, Chong, Bobbie, Sloppy, Spooky, Foofer & Miss Molly.....and Jinlges lived to a ripe old age of 20 (but she could've been older then that but she was, after all, a used cat).
