[Another] True Story

I posted this story on my Facebook Author page yesterday. For those of you not on Facebook, I'm posting it here for your reading pleasure.

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I got out later than usual to feed “my” kitties in the big shed last night (nearing 8:00) and saw that Pat hadn’t been out yet. I moseyed on up to the house to see if everything was okay. Pat and Edith were sitting at the table—Pat, looking a little ragged, sipping on a cup of something, and Edith snapping beans. Pat had overworked herself in the sun all day, mowing and picking beans and who-knows-what all, but said she thought she could get out "pretty soon." I got a knife and helped Edith with the beans and then told Pat I would feed “her” kitties and tell Weldon that he’d have to care for the calves by himself. She needed to stay inside and rest. She acquiesced.

Pat asked me to let Annabelle (mama of the “ring-around-the-Rosie” kitties) out of the cage for a while and then put her back in with the babies before bedtime. On my way to the house, I stopped to tell Weldon he was on his own for the evening, and I set Annabelle free as I passed by the barn. At home, I got a bottle of Gatorade and some yogurt and took it to Pat. Then I went to feed cats and kitties at the milk barn and in the big hay barn.

The ring-around-the-Rosie kitties. I just had to name the white one Rosie!

An hour later, I got a flashlight, turned on some yard lights, and went to find Annabelle. Ahhh, there’s a gray cat. I felt her belly. She didn’t feel much like a mother nursing five babies. What if this isn’t the right cat? I know there’s another gray cat about the same size, but this was the only one in sight. I picked her up and put her near the cage. She sniffed a bit and then looked at me, so I pushed her in. She carefully circled around the babies and settled in. She wouldn’t lie down with them if she wasn’t the mother, right? Right? Weldon was still in the milk parlor, so I asked him. He said he knows what the mother looks like, so he’d check in on them before he came home.

An hour later (yes, it was about 10:00 now), Weldon came in. “Did you check on the mama cat and babies?” No, he forgot. Oh well. It’ll be alright, right? Right?

And now it’s Friday morning. I fed “my” cats and had to go to the milk barn to get some milk. As long as I was passing by the big barn, I thought I'd let Annabelle out. She hopped out, but the five babies were spread across the floor of the cage and little Rosie was lying on her back. (It’s not a very big cage, so they weren’t separated by much, but they weren’t cuddled in a nice little kitty cat pile, either.) There was no movement. Oh, my gosh! They’re dead. I looked again, my heart pounding. Not the slightest bit of movement.

I hurried to the milk parlor. "Weldon, I think the five kittens are dead!" "Dead? All of them?" "Yes. They didn’t move. They’re not snuggled up. I don’t think they’re breathing. I must have got the wrong mama!" He immediately went with me to the barn. None of them were moving. Weldon put his hand in, and gently touched and petted them all. "They’re fine." "Fine? Really?" "Yes, they're fine."

Heart attack averted. Barely.

A few minutes later I confessed the whole story to Pat. She said she has had the same kind of experience, but she learned that the babies just spread out if it gets too stuffy and warm for them. I’m pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better … and it worked. Kind of.

This is, indeed, Annabelle.

The End. Of one more farm story.

It Takes a Village

Frankie was born last spring, so now it was her turn to have babies of her own. She had them, but I didn't know where until I heard kitties squalling on Sunday, June 14. I followed the pathetic cries and found four little ones behind this piece of tin.

I feed a whole passel of cats and kittens inside this shed.

I brought them to Mama, who was inside the shed, but she didn't take much notice of them. Over the next two days, she moved them from one place to another, and it didn't seem like she was taking good care of them. They had that hungry cry whenever I came to feed the other cats.

Tuesday evening, I was elated to see them nursing mama.

Unfortunately, they were trying to attach themselves to Grandma Freddie. That didn't last long.

Seen from above, the four babies and Mama Frankie. Frankie is just as black as her mom Freddie, but the flash makes them all look rather washed out.

Wednesday morning and evening, Pat and Weldon skimmed cream from the cows' milk and gave it to the babies. Honestly, I didn't feel like trying to keep them alive. I had lots of things on my calendar and I figured they'd all die anyway. Who wants to deal with that crap?

But, I caved. On Thursday I started giving the little ones kitten milk replacer, morning and evening, via a little syringe. They eagerly sucked it down and, within two days, their yowls were replaced with gentle kitty squeaks.

Cap'n Jack taking a syringe of milk.

I went to give Frankie's babies their milk on Saturday day night. No Frankie. One baby. I called and hunted and called some more. Nothing. So, I gave the little one two or three syringes of milk and went home.

Sunday morning, mom and all four babies came to greet me! Monday evening, Mom and two babies. Tuesday morning, Mom and two babies. Tuesday evening, Mom and two babies. My hunting was futile and my sweetest kitty-cat voice didn't avail. BUT ...

When I continued to the hay barn to feed the cats out there, I was surprised to see Rosemary coming around the bales from the rear of the barn. Hmmm. She didn't usually hang out in the hay barn. She hadn't been "lucky" with her very recent batch of babies, but she had previously proven herself adept at kitty-snatching. As she ate, I walked through the barn. "Where are the kitties? Come on, babies. Where are you?"

I had almost reached the back when I saw little Heddy waddling my way, and there came Tippy. Happy tears ran down my cheeks as I picked them up and snuggled them. Since Rosemary had milk and Frankie wasn't doing so well in the nursing department, I decided to let them stay where they were. Perhaps Rosemary's thievery will pay off this time.

This is Frankie, mother of four.

These are the two who are still with her: Cap'n Jack and Barbossa.

Here's Rosemary with Frankie's other two babes:

Heddy and Tippy

Tonight Pat lay on her belly to look under the pile of lumber where Rosemary has settled in with her adopted babies. And what to her wondering eyes should appear? Four more kittens! We're guessing they belong to LaPli, since she was the only other cat hanging around back there. I checked her undercarriage and she seems to have milk, so maybe she's sharing with Heddy and Tippy, too. The village continues its magic.