Simple Hobby Homesteading

 

 

Fridays on the Farm

From the desk of Mountain Man… Intermingler of the legs, catcher of the mice, and all around good guy to hang out with.

Dear Family, particularly the woman who feeds me and calls me “Handsome”,

Stop poking and prodding at me. I will not stay your handsome boy if you continue to poke and prod. Yes, I was bitten by a very angry creature who claimed, “I scratched up the wrong tree” but I do not think this gives you the right to do the monstrous things you have done to me in the name of “saving my life.”

You think I couldn’t have licked this wound clean? You think my immune system is so weak I wouldn’t survive one little encounter with a crazy squirrel, opossum, raccoon creature? You think that abscess was big? You think I need you? You think a handsome cat doesn’t know how to keep up his appearances despite an infected festering wound? You think western medicine is the saving answer to everything? You think this wound is something a gluten free vegan diet can’t cure? Just give me a couple days to get that GMO out of my diet and all will heal perfectly. Just leave me alone!

Family, hear me loud and clear… I… am… a … cat. I need no one. Sure, I cuddle you mercilessly and nuzzle your face but that is merely to give YOU the will to live. Without me you have nothing, get used to it.

So, you were a little alarmed when I came to dinner a few nights ago looking like I had stuffed a huge ball of yarn in my left cheek? Well, I came to dinner, why didn’t you immediately feed me? What was with all the scooping me up, poking and prodding at my face, and then the absolute disgust when you discovered the oozing.  Your poking and prodding did it, why in the world were you surprised?

However, let me take a moment to say, “Thank you.” My head and neck actually did feel better for a split second. Then, guess what, you had to go and ruin the moment. You brought me inside, making me think we would be cuddling on the couch and sharing a nice shrimp cocktail all the while knowing darn well there would be no snuggling and shrimp. Instead, you began to gather random tools of torture, all the while claiming that my oozing did not smell agreeable. Reminder, you caused this so it is your fault.

You, lady who feeds me and gives the best behind the ear and rump scratches, you are no doctor. Stop trying to play one in the home. A steady hand, yup you’ve got that. Some basic first aid knowledge, yes I’ll give you that as well. However, this night you were acting as if you had stayed in a Holiday Inn and suddenly channeled your inner Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. What? No, I never watch TV from the window behind the couch late at night. Can I make a request. Yes, after all this I think I can. I’d like for you to get the satellite TV back. Or maybe cable TV. Heck, I’d be happy with a couple local channels. I’m getting a bit tired of the Andy Griffith DVDs and Star Trek… you guys are such nerds.

The minutes turned into hours, the hours into days as you worked. The bright surgical-like kitchen lights warmed me just enough to lull a light sleep as I was worked on. No growling, you’re welcome. No biting, you’re welcome. No scratching, you really owe me.

Then, it happened. What all cats fear. My paws were bathed and wrappings were applied. I tried to scratch the wrapping off from around my neck when I suddenly realized there was something very wrong. The very foot I was attempting to scratch with was also bandaged in a Chinese finger trap type of wrapping which would take quite some time to finally be free from. Torture, pure and simple. I was a cat being tortured.

I really feel for those kids you claim to love because I have seen you gather these same types of tools of torture to treat their afflictions promising no shrimp cocktail to them as well. You have bandaged them, you have washed them, and you have made them cry with your efforts. Well, woman, I was crying. You didn’t see it (because I’m a manly kind of cat) but rest assured, I was crying. It hurt.

I just thought… well, you know… I just thought our relationship was different. I thought you understood me. I thought we had a connection. You, woman, you are dead to me. But it gets worse, oh wow does it get worse.

You took me to place that shall not be named in the vehicle which is a warm haven of happiness when sitting in the driveway and a deathtrap on wheels as soon as the engine revs up. At least you were smart enough to know every ounce of my street cred would be ruined if you stuffed me into a little box for the ride. Yes, woman, you were smart to allow me to sit on your lap while you drove the deathtrap on wheels to the place which all us cats on The Shepherd Hobby Farm have been to for what you call “alteration.” I was young and don’t remember much but apparently I will never be a father… fine by me.

We arrived and yes, I clung to you like Velcro. My claws dug in, and I have to say I did not appreciate your giggles at my utter terror. The comments about the weight… I could have done without those as well. The vet said I looked great so your little, “Wow, I didn’t think he had gained THAT MUCH weight” was downright hurtful. Eight pounds woman, I weigh eight pounds. I think you weigh a bit more than eight pounds! Yet, I say nothing.

 

Yet, I come back for more.

The actual appointment went well, she didn’t cause me pain like you did woman who is dead to me. Apparently I owe you a “thank you” as well because the wound was drained and they wouldn’t need to flush it out (flush sounds like it involves water so I do thank you woman… I really don’t like water on me. There may be hope for you).

My neck was shaved and four spots were pointed out where obviously jaws clamped down on my neck. Well duh, I already told you that woman… remember, that creature in the tree… yup that thing did it I bet. It’s all so blurry now, it happened a day or two ago and I’ve been too busy to keep track of details. I told you I could take care of it on my own so I don’t know why we are even here. That wasn’t fun but I sucked it up and took it like a man.

The only happiness of this visit was the confirmation from the vet that I am indeed a handsome cat and knowing you had to pay money for my care… haha the joke is on you woman who is not as dead to me as you were a few moments ago.

Now, understand this, I’m what you would call a country cat. You know this… you made me be a country cat by bringing me to the country. I happily roll in the hay, catch mice and bring their heads, ears, and tails to your doorstep, and bask in the sweet warm sunlight 10 hours each day. You’re cramping my style with the twice daily wound care and medicine. The other cats are starting to talk.

However, that moist yummy bit of amazing goodness you set in front of me after you squirt that horrid liquid in my mouth is something akin to a bear gorging on honey after enduring a few bee stings to get to it. The cuddles are pretty neato as well.

Keep on in your endeavors family, keep on.

~Mountain Man