RIP: Big Cat

  

Sometimes, things come into your life and you don't realize how important they will become. 

Once upon a time, a yellow cat arrived at The County Line. At this point, we don't remember the details. He was likely a member of a litter of kittens. His siblings are no longer remembered. If I have photos of him as a baby, they are buried in plastic tubs in the basement. 

But that little yellow cat grew to be Randy's favorite. Eventually, he became Big Cat. 

Randy and I both grew up with farm cats. Those cats come in and out of your life fairly frequently. Life on a farm can be dangerous - for people and for animals. We don't know exactly how old Big Cat was. Brent thinks that Big Cat was part of the family when he was still living here at home in high school. (Brent graduated in 2006) And our son-in-law, Eric, confirms that Big Cat has been around as long as he has been. Eric probably had his first visit to the farm in early 2007.

But we are sad to report Big Cat's passing. While we were at the high school football game Friday night, a couple of roaming dogs came into the farm yard and killed Big Cat and our newest kitty. Since the girls haven't been here to name that smallest cat, it didn't have a formal name. But I guess, as it turns out, it's appropriate that we just called it Little Kitty. 

If you're a long-time reader, you know I'm not an animal person. (Yes, I know admitting that causes people to question my humanity.) Before we got married, I did not offer any false advertising about my stance on animals in the house. I didn't grow up with them, and Randy did. As I like to say, it was part of the pre-marriage negotiations. 

However, even I modified my stance - to a certain degree. Yes, during the summer when he shedded unmercifully, Big Cat was relegated to the outside with the other farm cats. But come wintertime, Big Cat could come in for an evening of TV viewing with his favorite person - as long as he stayed on his blanket.

I joked that Big Cat was a one-person cat. I was more often than not on the receiving end of what I called Big Cat's "evil eye." 

However, even I would greet Big Cat when I returned to the house. In recent years, it seemed Big Cat spent most of his day snoozing near the back porch. Sometimes, I'd have to nudge him aside to get down the back steps. 

As Big Cat aged, he spent more and more time taking naps. (I suppose the same could be said of cats' human counterparts.) 

Big Cat was definitely the Patriarch of The County Line Cat Kingdom. And while Randy did his best to tame new baby kittens - especially before visits from our granddaughters and our daughter-in-law, Susan - Big Cat was still Number 1 in his heart.

It's not like we thought Big Cat would live forever. In fact, Big Cat had probably used all nine of his lives and a few more for good measure. Randy had mentioned several times that Big Cat was probably living on borrowed time. 

But both of us hate that Big Cat didn't have a peaceful death, gently falling asleep, dreaming his cat dreams. 

Randy wanted to find a fitting place to bury Big Cat and Little Kitty. He chose to lay them to rest among the lilac bushes south of the house.  

We know we'll long remember Big Cat. But maybe those memories will be especially poignant when the lilacs bloom.

If you're somewhere nearby and have a yellow kitten you'd part with, please let us know.

 

The Cat Whisperer

 The Cat Whisperer

A horse whisperer got his own book and movie. 

Maybe being a cat whisperer doesn't have quite the same panache.

 

 

But I live with a cat whisperer. And I know a couple of other cat whisperers in training. Robert Redford: Eat your heart out. You were just playing a role. I know the real deal.

 

I'll have you know that I googled "cat whisperer," and it's actually a thing. If National Geographic thinks so, then I believe it. 

Georgia Mason, a behavioral biologist at the University of Guelph in Canada, says that people who can consistently decode feline expressions belong to a special clan: That of the cat whisperer. For the research, Mason and colleagues created an online survey and invited internet users to take part. The 6,329 participants from 85 countries watched between two to 20 short videos of cat expressions, and then responded if they thought the felines were distressed or happy. These random users got an average of 11.85 out of 20 ratings correct—better than chance, but not by much.

 

But about 13 percent of the survey takers were unusually skilled at reading cats’ emotions, scoring at least 15 out of 20 correct—the so-called cat whisperers. (Are you a cat whisperer? Take this shortened version of the interactive quiz.)

 

I don't need a quiz to know that Randy is a cat whisperer.  The latest additions to the cat population at The County Line are Cookie and Pepper. Can you guess who gave them their names?

 

 

For the record, Pepper has some black dots above its mouth. But you can definitely tell they are siblings.

They were born in October - a litter of four - at the other farm house.

As we would arrive for farm work and later for feeding cattle, we enjoyed watching them sneak in and out of hay bales as they got a little older and began to explore. 

Their mother is an expert mouser, which is quite a desirable trait in a farm cat. So we certainly hoped she was also teaching them some marketable skills between their rough-and-tumble sessions playing with each other and with their two all-black siblings. 

By the way, the black cat is not their mother, who looks more like Cookie and Pepper.

At the end of November, I was recruited to help with the great cat "burglary." Randy wanted to catch the two black and white kittens and bring them to our house. Kinley and Brooke were coming the first weekend in December for our family Christmas and for Lyle's ashes burial, so Randy had a timetable. Grandma Christy is known as a cat whisperer, too, but she has adult cats. We are the granddaughters' kitten connection. 

 

By that time, the kittens were hanging out near our tool shed. Randy brought a lawn chair. 

My job was to tell him when the kittens were peeking out from under shed, ready to grab another piece of cat food, despite the human sitting there. He would reach out and capture them.

It took a little bit, but the mission was eventually accomplished. 

It was then my job to drive Randy and the kittens back to our house so we didn't have a game of tag erupt in the pickup cab.

Randy introduced the youngsters to the County Line's top feline - Big Cat. 

I don't think Big Cat has as much disdain for the kittens as he does for me. (I always say that Big Cat gives me the evil eye.)

Randy made a nest with an old towel between the house and our back steps. And the kittens moved into their "studio apartment." On cold days, they have apartment overcrowding with Big Cat and Cozy taking up some real estate there, too.

I've not noticed that the kittens have picked up any bad habits regarding death stares from Big Cat. But he may be sad that he sometimes has to wait his turn for time on Randy's fluffy blanket on cold winter evenings.

Instead of taking lessons in attitude, it appears at least one of the cats is looking into a career as a centerfold.

 

Hide and Seek

As I dashed out of the house to run an errand for Randy, I glanced to my left and saw four little kittens nestled in the crevice between the house and the back steps.

And when I got back there were 11. YES, 11!

I texted a photo to the kids and sent it in an email to my Mom, but by the next time I looked, not a single one remained. Two litters of kittens are playing hide and seek. Or maybe it's their mothers. I need a scorecard!

I found some hiding in the window well.

 A few were more clever at hiding behind the screen mesh for a little camouflage.

Some had moved by their mom for a snack.

Others were hanging out by the cat food bowl. Maybe they were waiting on their mother, too.

Randy's mission is to tame some of these kitties so they can make their way to my parents' farm in Pratt County. It's a mission he is always glad to accept.

He already had a good start with a kitty we named Fluffy. (Or maybe it was Fuzzy. It depends on which one of us you ask.)

At this time, Fluffy (AKA Fuzzy) is nowhere to be found.

And this big guy isn't talking.