Heaven help the cat farmer…

Ok, so I realize I am running a major risk of turning into one of those ladies….

But last night, after I had so clearly declared my feelings about the state of the cats in my life and posted it with authority and a couple necessary exclamation points for the world to see, feeling pretty free and right with the world and where I stand as far as cats are concerned, I headed out to the barn to practice taking pictures with my shiny, new fancy nancy, big girl camera.

I was glowing. This machine could quite possibly be the single most beautiful thing I have ever owned (besides the pug of course, but I don’t own him….no, that’s a free spirit there…free as the wind…and I’m pretty sure he owns me).  Ok, the camera…yes, it’s more complicated than any woman I know. With more bells and whistles and mysterious features, not only is this contraption equipped to capture some undoubtedly precious moments, I am pretty sure, if I find the right button, it could very well send me back in time, or at least to the moon or something.  Yes, my life is sure to be transformed with this little piece of magic…or, you know, allow me to capture an image in lowlight for starters.

Anyway, I was out gallivanting around, looking at the world from the other side of a lens that really, I’m not sure I’m worthy of owning. And as I was taking pictures of the inside of the barn, reveling in how beautiful old things can become when you spend enough money to be able to see them in high resolution (as opposed to the resolution of real life, which, as it turns out, sometimes doesn’t seem to compare…especially if you don’t wear the glasses you were prescribed), I heard it…

The lab, who had been hot on the trail of a mole or something heard it….

The pug,? Yes, of course the pug heard it…

“mew…”

Faint at first, I ignored it, certain it had to be the crazy cat from the house following me again. Cats take a while to learn a lesson.

I continued my quest for a Nobel Peace Prize winning photograph…

“…mew…mew…mew…”

Shrill, high pitched, panicky…

Ok, that’s not the noise of a creature I feed from a bowl.

But look at that magnificent spider web and those old horseshoes…

“…mew…mew…mew…”

Shit.

This is a plea for help. This is the sound of a creature that needs rescuing—this means business. And no doubt another house guest.

So, as you can imagine, even though I didn’t get around to making the pug the cape I promised him, the super-dog was all over this investigation.

Just call him the Cat Whisperer. Actually, I think his first book is scheduled for release this winter.

“mew…mew…mew…mew…”

It just couldn’t be ignored so off we went, the pug gallantly leaped through the window of the barn and landed nose to the ground toward the pathetic squeaks. And the lab, not to miss a good hunt, squeezed all 105 pounds of him right behind.

Well of course I couldn’t be left out, and going around to the door and out to the source of the “mews” would waste precious time, so I squeezed through too….you know, all of me…somehow…

Anyway, after the nose of the lab and the nose of the pug took them screaming through the barnyard, weaving in and out of the hay bales, very dramatically collecting burs and kicking up birds, I took two steps and looked down at my feet to discover what I had expected:

A tiny, fluffy, noisy, pathetic, desperately adorable, fit in the palm of my hand, kitten searching high and low for her momma, you know, in an old tire.

Oh, I’m no momma, and I couldn’t find one around anywhere, especially not in the tire, so, well you know what happened next.

I mean, how could you leave something like this out alone in the world?

Not possible.

So I swept her up and pulled her close to my face and said a few things like:

“Oh, hewo widdle kiddy kiddy…awen’t you the cutest widdle kiddy kiddy…whews yo mamma? Huh? Whews yo mamma?”

Yup, I was her.

I was that.

Crazy.

Cat.

Lady.

Crazy cat lady.

Fast or slow, punctuation or no punctuation, any way you dice it,  it always spells:

C R A Z Y.

And that kitty kitty, I’m sure was glad to be saved.

It took me .5 seconds after that to get back to the house, which was not nearly enough time to concoct a story to tell husband about why oh why I was bringing yet another furry thing into our tiny, tiny home.

But as soon as I opened the door and sweetly presented our little gift from the cat gods (or from someone who is playing a dirty, nasty trick on me for ever having said an ill word toward the species) husband grabbed her up.

And when I began the inevitable photo shoot of the new addition?

getting acquainted...not going so well at this point...

He told me to stop.

Stop?

Yes stop.

“You are scaring her.”

And then, after my failed attempt at giving her milk, he fed her spaghetti.

And put her in his pocket.

And told me to stay back.

“She’s mine. “

Good Lord, what have we become?

The crazy cat lady has created a monster.

Or a cat farmer.

I wonder if this one will get a name?

Heaven help the softhearted.

I give up.

NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I’VE GOT TO GET A CAT OFF MY CAPS LOCK…

24 thoughts on “Heaven help the cat farmer…

  1. That picture of the tiny kitten in your hubby’s pocket is about the cutest thing in the whole wide world. If he or she gets a name, it should be Italian, since the cat likes spaghetti.

  2. ❤ LOVE <3. I firmly believe that God made kittens adorably impossible to resist for a reason: once they turn into cats, they're a p.i.t.a. and it takes a reeeal special kind of softy to take them home at that point. And I can SO relate to the hubby thing: I too have a big strapping "I'm tough-as-leather-but-mushy-as-puddin'-when-it-comes-to-cute-tiny-things" husband too. Tweak is his fault entirely. But Dammit doesn't look like he appreciates the new arrival very much?

    I vote kitty should be named "Ragu". And I've said it before, but I'll say it again: you've made the Kitten Kaboodle Klub PROUD.

  3. I love this. And I love your pug. I want a black pug too, and I will name her Mango.

    And be careful giving cats cow milk. I did that once, and I had a stream of liquid poo sprayed all over my jade plant, half my bookshelf, and the wall. Not cool. Not cool at all.

    Kate
    http://www.idreamloudy.com

    • Ha, I love my pug too. Such personality in that little squat body. You definitely need one. Mango. Adorable.
      My dad warned me about the cow milk thing too, so funny you mentioned that. He said he used to squirt milk at the barn cats when he was milking cows…they didn’t bring them into the house, but I imagine they had the same issues out in the barn 🙂

  4. AWWWW~that was so descriptive and real, it softened my anti-cat attitude (course I have allergies to cats). Barn cats were always a part of my “barn” life, but there was so many us kids would throw them in the water tank to get rid of them. oofta or uffda. Much better to put them in your pocket~~ (problem is, they don’t stay that size very long).

  5. Those tiny little bodies with the big eyes and the “I wuv you” looks will get you every time. I need to stay away from them (kitties or puppies) or they’ll suck me right in. It is a cutie; wonder if it’ll go for horse rides with your husband.

  6. AWW, is all I can say. On the farm, we would have strays..my dad wasn’t a big fan of a cat in the house at that time but as a dairy farmer..he also had a soft spot and would feed them twice a day w/ some milk
    My brother and I would go scouring the farm to find out where the mama cat’s hid their kittens
    Once we had a stray in the house who had kittens in my dresser..uff’da.

    As always, cute pics and glad you have a soft spot for animals cuz not everyone does.
    Nicole

  7. Old cat doesn’t look too happy with little cat mooching in on your pug. My husband and I were buying dog food at PETCO and he keeps hollering “No more pets.” They do adopt out pets whose former parents can’t take the responsibility for them–no longer cute, but, still needy. I wanted 2 ferrets, since my guinea pigs died and hubby said he would make a coat out of them.

  8. I just have to wonder what adventure and survival lies behind that tiny, adorable being. I am so glad it found you, someone who cares and will love and nourish it.

    xo

  9. I really loved this post, it’s just hilarious! I came across a similar “mew” sound trail this past spring and discovered 5 little ones behind the barn – but they still had their mother (a feral cat). We have raised ones with no mother in the past, too, and had our lives turned upside down – amazing how such little furry things can do that! It seems just when we get the feral cat population under control, someone drops another one off, or one moves in. But it is wonderful to have kittens around, and yours is very lucky to have found you!

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