Barn cats

Kittens in the barn!

At the end of December when I was feeding the horses I spied two little, feral kittens in the hay barn. They seemed hungry so I started putting out wet cat food for them. One of them was bold and would come out to eat even when I was in sight. The other two were more wary. A few days later I saw a fourth little one with beautiful eye markings hiding under a pallet. The first of January when I went down in the morning to feed, I saw the little bold one on top of a bale of hay, cold and still. I thought he was gone, but I picked him up, and he made a little mew. So I tucked him under my shirt to warm him up. The rest of the morning I carried him around tight against my skin. I told him if he lived I would name him Rocky for beating the odds. But I had a horse training lesson in the afternoon so I had to figure out something else to do with him. Dave was coding in his fuzzy bathrobe so I asked him if he would tuck the kitten in under his robe and hold him. He did. For five hours.

Rocky under the pallet

That afternoon--due to some idiocy on my part--I fell off my horse and had to go to the ER for a couple of CT scans. It took hours, and Dave couldn't bring the kitten, so I called Jessie and she came and got him from Dave. When she got him home he perked up a bit, mewed some more, and even ate and drank a bit. I went down and got him from her the next morning (she has her own place in town) and brought him home. It was like he was reborn. He was no longer a feral kitten, he was Dave's kitten and he spent his time curled on his shoulder or under his neck--occasionally hanging out on me as an acceptable Second Human.

Dave's Cat

Temps outside were dropping, and I worried about the other kittens so I went to Murdoch's and got some live traps. It took a couple of days, but I caught the biggest one--a fluffy one that looked a lot like Rocky but with long hair--and brought him inside. He was absolutely feral and would have NOTHING to do with us. He hid under the chair in Dave's office (the temporary cattery) and only came out  to eat and drink when we weren't in there. I kept looking the tiny fourth one with the beautiful eye markings as she was the smallest one I'd seen and the one I was most worried about. There was also an apricot fluffy one that I hoped to catch. Two more days of food out in the traps. Nothing. 

Dreamsicle

Finally one morning when I let Remy (the Pomeranian) out to pee I saw a flash of apricot dart under the shed by the driveway. I was astounded to see her as it's a quarter of a mile uphill in the snow (snow deeper than a kitten) to get from the barn to the house, and I wondered what had caused her to make the trek. I put a trap with a fresh can of food in it under the side of the shed and waited. All day. Nothing. I brought the trap in that night, and I put it out the next morning. Finally, success! I brought her to the cattery and pulled her hissing and growling out of the trap. She promptly discovered how to get under the jacuzzi tub in the bathroom next to Dave's office and it was impossible to remove her (or the other fluffy one who also hid in there with her).

Rocky can SLEEP!

I made an appointment to take the three of them to the vet for a check-up, deworming, and possible vaccinations (if they were old enough). Dreamsicle (the apricot one) and Marshmallow Fluff remained sequestered under the tub, impossible to get for a week so Rocky went to the vet on his own. The vet said he looked to be about seven weeks old. We had had him a week at that point so we figured they were born around Thanksgiving. We never saw the mom, and as starved as the kittens were when we brought them in, it looks like she either abandoned them or something happened to her.

Always on Dave

Except for Rocky, the kittens spent most of their time for the next couple of weeks under the tub. At night when I would make my mid-sleep trip to the bathroom, Rocky would come out and frolic and play with my feet. Over time the other two would come out and watch. And creep closer. Finally I was able to pick up Marshmallow Fluff (Dave has since renamed him Wellington), and though he was never as friendly as Rocky, he would deign to curl up on my chest and watch tv in the evening. Eventually I was able to board up the entrance to under the bathtub (with the kittens on the outside of the barrier), and the cattery officially became Dave's office and the master bath.

Hanging with Remy

A month passed, and except for one unfortunate incident where Dreamsicle escaped into the garage for a couple of days, the kittens settled in and have been given the run of the main and upstairs floors (the basement is still off-limits--too many inaccessible-to-humans hiding places). To be clear, the intent was never to keep them all. Rocky had so completely bonded with Dave that he was going to remain, but the goal with the other two was to get them vaccinated, get them neutered, and return them to the barn (with a heated cat house and food and water). We kept them in because it was really cold, and I didn't want to have to try to retrap them for vet visits. 

Two-headed cat

But then Wellington started pitching hard to stay. He hung out on Dave, zoomied and cuddled with Rocky, and was an excellent user of the automatic litter box--left over when Jessie moved out with our previous three cats who refused to use it at all. So we cautiously considered keeping two--even though I was concerned about putting Dreamsicle out alone.

Dreamsicle, however, looks to have made different plans. She has become increasingly curious, and yesterday she tentatively followed me from room to room all day, eyeing me warily, but unable to stay away. She joined us for the evening in the living room, and crept closer and closer to watch the other cats lounging on us as we watched tv. She is also a model citizen (litter box and manners). So talks began reluctantly last night to consider letting her stay too--though I don't think she will ever be happy as a totally indoor cat. 

And life was good.

RIP Cleopatra

This morning when I went down to feed the horses it was -8 degrees F with a windchill of -17. It is spectacularly beautiful here, but it is also COLD. When I pulled out a bale of hay for the horses I found the littlest kitten with the beautiful eye markings curled up frozen in the snow next to a dusky grey and apricot calico kitten that I had not seen before. They were so little, and they never had a chance. I know you can't save them all. Survival of the fittest. That's why there are so many kittens in a litter... So many platitudes, and none of them make me any less sad.

The boys posing

We hold the three survivors close, and we are happy that they, at least, will have Good Lives.