The Barn Cat
The barn cat is an essential item for any barn that has fodder or grain in it.
Almost daily, I see her out in the grass around the garden, sitting quietly, watching for movement that indicates a mouse is also there. Occasionally she will be seen walking back to the barn with one in her mouth. Apparently, she likes to dine inside. If she’d listen, I would tell her the mice in the barn is why she’s here, not the field mice. If she could talk, I’m sure she would say she has disposed of all of them and is now out preventing the others from getting to the barn. I’d say, okay – you win.
This cat has the run of the barn from the basement to the haymow above. She deftly climbs the vertical ladder to get up there. However, she has an alternate route, which is through a rear door to or from the haymow. I put the ladder up one day after I saw her scamper straight up the wall, apparently spooked by something in the barnyard. Now she perches there surveying her domain. She no doubt claims it as her penthouse space. Despite searching, I have never found just where her special spot is amongst the old hay and straw and other stuff stored up there.
This reminds me of another cat event. As I recall, many years ago, I felt a little sorry for the barn cat we had then and thought I’d bring her in to see where and how we lived. I carried her into the kitchen and set her on the floor. She wasn’t impressed with these new surroundings and quickly ran into the dining room. In there is a six-foot long by five-foot high plate glass window through which she could see the trees outside. No doubt she viewed this as her escape to the outdoors where she belonged. She promptly jumped up on the buffet in front of the window and then onto the eight-inch wide window sill. My mother had African violets in pots, along with various china objects on display there. The cat ran back and forth on the window sill looking for an outlet which didn’t exist and, by the time she gave up, most of the shelved items were on the floor or on the buffet. There were pieces here and there along with scattered potting soil. Catching her at that point didn’t work so we opened all exterior doors until she finally headed for one of them, ran out and into the barn. This cat had a number of litters of kittens and I would like to think that experience was one she told – or warned – her children about.
