Be careful what you wish for. I’ve heard this idea before and usually shrug it off. Why wouldn’t I want what I wished for?
Now that we’ve been on the farm for almost a year, my room-mate and I thought we should probably consider the idea of a farm cat. A cat to hunt rodents in the barn, to snuggle on my lap while having my morning cup of coffee, and to bask in the sun on the side porch giving our farm the hospitable ambience of coziness and well, an idyllic farm. You know, chickens, vegetable gardens, sunflowers and hollyhocks, an old-fashioned porch swing, and a cat.
Then, one morning, while I was puttering around the tool shed, BOOM! Kittens.
One fuzzy little face after another crawled out from behind the stack of last year’s flower pots and old potting soil, hesitant but curious. I gently picked one up and ran into the house, waking my room-mate.
“Look what I found in the shed.”
I placed it on her bed and ran back out to fetch the rest of the litter. One, two, three, four kittens. They were old enough to be weaned, but momma cat showed up at the scene of the kitten catastrophe, rubbing against my leg and purring like we were old friends. We figured somebody must have dropped them off and she decided our shed would work just fine for their new home.
It didn’t take them long to get used to our hospitality, taking over the Chihuahua’s dog bed and eating us out of house and farm. Nothing was sacred to them, all was claimed for their kitten antics.
We feel confident that our farm now looks cozy and idyllic. Way too idyllic! I’m thinking maybe I should’ve wished for a porch swing instead.