June
20, 2022
“There’s
another one,” Mike said referring to the kittens.
“What?”
I almost panicked. “Another cat has
taken up residence in our barn?”
“God,
please don’t let it be a male,” I exclaimed thinking he was talking about an
adult cat and praying it wasn’t a Tom. We
had not even been close to taming momma cat yet. (I am planning on having her
spayed when we do.)
“No,”
Mike answered. “It’s another
kitten. She has four babies instead of
three as we originally thought. This one has a tiny bit of white on it.”
A
deep, long sigh was all that I could manage.
“Ok, so we have four kittens
instead of three.” My mind processed
this information. We had been trying to
get close to the kittens to tame them, hoping that we can find them good homes. The problem is Momma cat has been very
diligent to warn her babies that they are not to associate with the
humans. Sometimes, upon entering the
barn, we would see the tail end of a single kitten as it ran away. Other times we could count two, or even three
hidden in the barn walls if we looked between the boards with one eye and
shined a bright light. Always, Momma cat
continued to hiss and growl even though I have tried to explain to her that she
is a guest, and the barn belongs to the humans.
She continues to insist that SHE is the queen, this is HER palace, and we
are her servants. Never in my wildest dreams could I have seen
myself catering to a feline! I’m a dog
person, a cow person, and would even consider myself a chicken or a goat person
before I would ever think of catering to a cat.
I tell myself it’s because of the babies. Babies are helpless and I have a tender heart
for babies of any species, evidently even for cats. (Don’t let Mike ever tell you this was all my
idea. He will try to put it off on me,
you know, but he’s the one donning leather gloves and attempting to pet momma
while she laps her milk and this is AFTER she bit him.)
I
was beginning to lose hope after feeding Raven (yes, I gave her a name) and her
kittens for several weeks with seemingly no acceptance from them. Raven had the kittens very well trained to
avoid humans. They ran from us, and they
hissed, slapped, and bit when we tried to retrieve them from their hiding
places. I talked to my friend. She loves cats. She understands them; I do not. She said we might not be able to tame them
because some cats remain feral no matter what humans do. I began to resign myself to this and consider
ways to trap them in case we are not able to finally make them comfortable
enough with us that we can catch them. I
gave Raven her milk one quiet morning and sat down a few feet away from her
hoping she would relax. After a few
moments, one of the kittens emerged from behind a built-in wooden feed box in
our century-old barn. I didn’t
move. Then, a few minutes later, another
one came from a space between the walls.
Before long, all four of the kittens were lapping milk beside their
momma. I didn’t dare move (and I prayed
that no more cats were hiding and waiting for a big reveal)! While I remained still, they continued to drink
the milk I had poured for them: three
solid black kittens and one with a splotch of white on its chest looking like
someone had splashed a dab of bleach on a pair of black jeans.
One
morning walking through the barn, I was shocked to feel resistance under the
toe of my shoe. In horror, I realized
that the momma cat had been so close to me that I had
accidentally kicked her. I looked at her
to offer my apologies and she hissed at me.
“Geeze, cat!” I said with more than a hint of exasperation. “I didn’t mean to kick
you. How was I to know you were walking
practically on top of my feet!” Then I realized that was the closest she has
been to me, and I hoped that my accidentally kicking her would not deter her
from future contact.
And
that is how, this morning, despite not needing to milk the cow (as we are
working on drying her off to give her a break before she calves in the fall),
Mike and I found ourselves sitting on the floor of the barn watching our five
cats lapping milk. It was kind of
pleasant there with the early morning sounds all around us and the morning
light sneaking through the open barn door.
It was nice knowing we had the time to sit quietly together and watch
the kittens play once their tummies were full.
Maybe,
just maybe, cats aren’t so bad after all.
Who
would have ever thought?
