Sad Day on the Farm: I've Lost a Snuggle Friend

We’re farmers. On farms you have cats. These are farm cats. Farm cats come and go; some are born on the farm; others are strays; some are dropped off at the farm. Every cat on our farm gets a name. As long as they are a nice cat, I get attached to them. It’s my nature. I can’t help it. In fact, the boys when they were younger got to a point that when a kitten was born, they wouldn’t give it a name at first until they knew they were going to survive. Otherwise, they thought they were jinxing their life. I lost one of my cats yesterday and it makes me sad.
　
The bottom line is: I love all my cats. Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m not one of those "cat ladies" where you will find 50 cats in their house. The cats stay out of the house. They hang in the barn, hay mow, shed, calf hutches, garage (if they can sneak in) when it is cold and when it is warm they hang around me when I am outside.
　
I have made one exception to the "no cats in the house" rule. Well, actually it was three - Pinky, Gizzy and Bootsy; sorry, correction, it was six – Gizzy had three kittens. Okay, now I’m sounding like a cat lady. Here’s the short version (but by now you know my stories aren’t short!).
　
A couple years ago late one summer, we got a semi-load of hay from Nebraska and after the semi-trailer left, Brady, who was getting ready to leave to play baseball, noticed a small orange ball over by the bales. It was a little kitten who was scared to death. He had the cutest, pinkest nose of which the color stuck out so prominently against the orange fur, that he was named Pinky (or more affectionately known as Pinkers). Brady picked him up and brought him over to the house. I was outside doing some yard work and watched as the other cats surrounded him and let him know that they weren’t the Welcome Wagon. Feeling sorry for him, I took him into the house and fed him some milk. I tried to put him outside and the other cats still were mean to him. Not allowing that kind of behavior to a new member of our family, I thought I would put him in the house for a while. Pongo, our dog, took to him right away; although for a while Pinky was scared of him. House kitten #1.
　
About two weeks later early on a Sunday morning, I was down at the park in town getting ready for a family reunion. It was a nasty, rainy morning. I had unpacked things, had to set up the coffee pot and then was going to run home to get the final things for the reunion. Rick, who oversees the park upkeep was walking around checking the things over when he and I both spotted a little Calico-colored kitten wandering in the rain closer to my picnic tables. The ones that I had just cleaned off and put nice cloth tablecloths on. I was afraid the kitten would climb on everything and leave little muddy paw prints. Rick said he thought the kitten looked lost. No other cats around, no mother crying out its name. Rick said why don’t you take it home; after some coaxing, I caved in. Rick grabbed a box out of my SUV and off the kitten went to find a new, dry home. I thought, great, I can leave her in the house with Pinky but I will be gone all afternoon and was a little afraid of what I would find when I got home. I unpacked the kitty, showed her the litter box (oh yea, I bought a litter box), the food and Pinky. Pongo sniffed and then his fatherly instincts (??!!) took over as they did with Pinky and he gave me the okay that she was okay to stay, too. Bob had his reservations about having Pinky in the house at first and now I was adding another to the mix. I left for the reunion and when we returned all was calm and the kittens were sleeping with Pongo keeping watch over his flock. House kitten #2.
　
Remember, I said that farm cats come and go. We had a momma cat that had kittens. All but one survived. They hung in the barn and ran around the cows feet and got stepped on and didn’t survive. All except Bootsy. Then Bootsy’s momma died. Bootsy would crawl up onto the water heater to snuggle since Momma and his sibs were gone. Bootsy got lots of attention from Bob in the barn and he started to get round and fat and grow out but not up. The cold Fall weather was setting in and Bob informed me Bootsy shouldn’t be hanging in the barn by himself anymore. Yep, you guessed it. House kitten #3.
　
So, now I had a whole array of colored cats in my house – Pinky was orange, Gizzy was Calico, and Bootsy was our farm-standard gray and white. All our farm cats at the moment were either gray/white or black. The kittens and Pongo became the best of friends. They would eat Pongo’s food, and he would eat their food. They would chase each other in circles between the rooms. First, Pongo would chase them all in a row; then, they would stop and turn around and chase Pongo. The kittens were growing fast. The three would snuggle up into one big colorful ball at night on a blanket. It slowly became a house divided – each with their favorites. Gizzy became mine because I had rescued her; Brady’s was Pinky since he had spotted him first; Bootsy, of course, was Bob’s since he was his little buddy in the barn; and, Pongo, the dog was Casey’s. Gizzy got bigger and would crawl up on our bed at night. When Casey wasn’t home, Pongo would slip into his spot under the covers by my legs. Gizzy would sneak up and curl up by my head; Bob got the other side of the bed that wasn’t taken over by the animals. How did we end up like this? We were never a house full of animals? Yes, when the boys were young they had gerbils (boy, that’s a whole other story!!); then Casey got a turtle and then two turtles. Then, we inherited Pongo (still another story). Now, I’ve got Pongo and three kittens slowly developing into cats.

Before Bootsy moved from the barn to the house, we had Pinky fixed and declawed. Gizzy just got declawed. They had to be as long as they were in the house - they were starting to scratch on the furniture. I kept telling myself this was going to be temporary. Yea, right. Then Gizzy started to get the itch!! Yes, boys and girls, we know what the itch means for a female....cat! She was in heat. Whenever she came into heat and if there was some testosterone around (the three men in my life) she would wrap herself around their legs doing the crazy little pole dance. No, it is not nice to see a desperate woman. The boys kept threatening me they were going to throw her outside so she could be entertained a little. Finally, I gave in and awhile later we had three little kittens. From the looks of it, Gizzy might have had fun with more than one of the farm boys because we had Grady who was a puffy soft gray, Sunny who was yellow and white and Midnight who was all black with a little sprinkling of white around the paws and his face. None of them looked alike but they were brothers true to the core. They were snugglers and didn’t want to be separated. They took after momma and loved to chase around with Pongo.
　
Finally, though, they all had to go outside. It was Spring and I had gone through a horrible Winter with Gizzy getting too ambitious. She started jumping up on my kitchen counters and then on top of the cabinets where over the holidays and winter I have my Village collection of houses and statutes. A lot of them ended up on the floor because she thought she could tiptoe through the winter gardens in my Village without disturbing anything. Gizzy made a good mother and the kittens stayed by her side wherever she went. Unfortunately, Grady ended up meeting a tragic death (he got tangled up in a basketball net that was laying on the ground and strangled himself). I found him and tried to quickly cut the net loose but it was too late. I bawled and bawled. That left Sunny and Midnight to snuggle with Gizzy but you could still see they missed Grady.
　
Gizzy had another batch of kittens this last summer or at least one kitten, Simba. Simba has made it so far through the Winter outside making his little nest in the shed on some straw bales. He is not as friendly yet as what Sunny and Midnight are, but he will need to come around now. Yesterday, Gizzy was run over. Bob found her late in the afternoon and thinks she was probably run over by one of the guys who stopped out to give us estimates on our barn and house roofs. Gizzy would sit on some bales of hay by the driveway and then when I (Bob or the boys) drove in, she would run along side the car. I would always stop when she did that because I was afraid I would run over her. I know I didn’t do it, and am glad because it was hard enough to take the news when Bob told me on the phone when I was coming home from work last night. He said do you want the bad news now or when you get home? I didn’t really want to hear it either time. I knew in my heart that this might happen. I never like it when any of our cats have run out of their nine lives; but that is life – it’s the cat life on the farm. I’m sad. I’m going to miss my friend, my snuggler. Simba, Midnight and Sunny are going to miss their momma. You and I both know mommas are hard to replace.

Now all we have is a farm full of boys. They and I both don’t have a snuggler – I have to find me another momma.