The river of our lives flows mainly around caring for the big animals, cows, calves, and heifers, and a couple of horses too. Everything there is has to be scheduled around twice daily milkings, thrice daily feedings, cleaning of stables etc. It is such a habit...I have worked in situations where I at least had to feed animals morning and night since I was sixteen...even when I have time off I get restless at 6 in the morning and 5 in the evening.....
However, it is often the little animal tributaries that bring the most fun and drama to our world, payback in triplicate for all that we give them.
The pup, Gil, is a devil dog, bowling people over with his fat, fluffy bum, tossing milking inflations, about the only toy he can't destroy, through the air with gay abandon, endangering all and sundry, and barking at everything and nothing.
However, just a few minutes ago, he managed to get his collar off. It lay on the floor, collapsed and lonely.
At first he was astonished to see such a thing. Then he bowed to it, twisted his head all sideways and pawed at it.
Barked at it, nudged it, nosed it, pounced, danced, paraded in circles around it with one foot in the air in case it might run away and need to be smacked down.
It stayed all sullen and grumpy there in a heap though all his efforts until he decided he had gotten all the good out of it and went on his merry way.
We were hooting and gasping by the time he was done.
And those kitties our logger brought are pips. The little cats are hilarious, spending hours playing in a pile of sand we keep in an empty stall for shoveling on the floor to keep the traction good. There must be ten thousand kitty tracks in it now, from pouncing, digging spaces in which to hide, all the better to jump out and and surprise you, and hours and hours of patty-paw. They are the happiest, funniest kittens we have seen in years.
Mama is a fine hunter. She wasn't here three days before she was up in the overheads and mows ratting and mousing.....clearly a business cat and good at her job. We like them all a lot.
Yesterday they were missing at evening milking. Normally they are right there waiting for noms and chances to hide in Alan's pockets and drink fresh, hot, milk, and other such fine kitty activities. However, there wasn't so much as a flash of tortoiseshell to be seen anywhere.
I had a sad. I figured mama, who is an enterprising big, black and white cat, had taken the kids and headed back home. Their former location is just a few miles away and cats do what they want to. I called and called.
At the end of chores I came in to cook dinner and get things ready for the boss to head off to an auction. Just as I was getting washed up Becky came in and reported that Alan had seen the cats, all up in the overheads with mama. She is starting them young and starting them right I guess. At least they are safe from big cow hooves up there!