Our life on the farm, just outside the town that we grew up in, would seem to be a very simple existence by the standards of many others in this modern, fast-paced world. But it seems to me as if everything we do becomes an unexpected adventure. There is nothing that we take on that works out as simply as we imagine.
Getting a new barn kitty, for instance. We lost our dear Monkey about a month ago; she was the best barn cat ever and we hadn’t seen a mouse in the house – not 1! – in the almost three years that we’ve been on the farm. Until Monkey was gone … within a week, a fat, sassy brownish grey creature had taken up residence in our laundry room.
I didn’t want a cute fluffy little kitten to take over as head mouser. I wanted a full grown, tough(ish), outdoor kitty. I contacted a local feline rescue facility who said they had several barn cats available for adoption. No adoption fee, just a donation of a bag of cat food.
We had made plans to visit the rescue after work one evening the following week to adopt two cats. These plans changed, though, when Sunday turned out to be a beautiful, warm February day.
The director of the rescue facility said that she wasn’t available to meet us that afternoon, but gave instructions on where to put the food donation, how to catch the cats, and to send pics of those we took.
Simple enough, right? Ummm… no.
It was such a pleasant day that all of the kitties at the rescue were off enjoying the sunshine, playing in the woods. Of nearly 50 free ranging felines, we spotted a total of 7 our entire visit. Over the course of an hour and a half, and with the assistance of a very kindly neighbor, we were able to capture one cat. A beautiful, large orange kitty that we later names Thor.
We tried luring them with wet food, tried using a net, waiting patiently …
We tried, unsuccessfully, to catch one more after getting Thor settled into the carrier cage. There was an absolutely beautiful Siamese that we just couldn’t quite lure out from under the house. And a pretty little white one with grey markings . . . a large, very fluffy calico. . . and a few others eyeing us from the treeline.
Steve found one napping in one of the many igloo-type dog houses full of straw. When he tried to get her out, she was having none of it and sunk her teeth deep into his right hand! He’s such a trooper that he didn’t let it stop us. We tried for quite a while longer to get one more, but finally gave up, loaded our big orange kitty in the truck and headed for home.
On the way, Bryce wanted to start making friends with the new cat. Bryce is the cat-whisperer – he loves them and they love him. When he opened the cage, just a bit, an orange streak flew out the door and under Steve’s seat! The cat very happily settled itself in the cubby on Steve’s truck door, and rode there until we stopped.
We were talking about names, and I said he/she needed a name that had to be contained. Bryce started naming off elements on the periodic table. When he said “Thorium,” we decided that was perfect – although we still aren’t sure if we have a Thor or a Thora.
We got Thor home, and settled into a large enclosure in the barn. We want to keep him/her confined for a few weeks, to learn where home is and where the food comes from, before releasing him/her to roam the farm and (hopefully!) assume the role as head mouser.
In the meantime, Steve’s hand had started to swell from the bite! We washed it well and put some ointment on it. By Monday afternoon, it looked terrible – swollen, red, and with streaks running up his arm!
So a trip to the doc was in order. Next came shot in the rear, a tetanus shot in his arm, and oral antibiotics! My free rescue kitty has now cost us nearly 1/2 tank of gas in the truck, a large bag of cat food, and a doctor visit.
