Cats on the Porch

Annabelle, in front of the barn, where a good kitty should be...

I made the mistake of feeding Annabelle and Barney on our front porch once last week. Who knows what I was thinking? And when they were up there I made an even bigger mistake by milking two of our goats on the porch one morning. Almost immediately we had two wanna-be house cats underfoot. Open the door: there's a cat. Look out a window: there's a cat. Annabelle even found the wooden cat house I so laboriously built two winters ago for our then cat-in-residence. Situated beside our bedroom window, atop the wooden house, she could stare into the house--her pretty little face there to greet any unsuspecting sleeper who awoke from a nap or in the morning.

"No cats on the porch!" The decree was handed down. "No cats on the porch," the statement reverberated throughout the house. "No cats on the porch," we said to the furry felines each time we stepped onto the porch.

Barney, on the porch!

No matter what we said, the cats were not about to budge. They knew a good thing when they saw it.

"Who's minding the mice?" asked our Operations Manager. "Who's looking out for the grain?" she wanted to know. But most of all she wanted to know, "Who's watching the barn?"

If I didn't know better, I would swear that the cats' expressions replied, "Who cares?" Cheeky kitties.

Tuesday evening I made a show of bringing the milking pail up to the barn in the evening. Whaddya know, Annabelle and Barney came right along with me. First Pamela stood to be milked. While she has very little milk--both of her kids died within a day of birth, and Leslie's kids, Samuel and Maguire, who used to nurse from Pamela are generally separated from the does of late--she has enough milk to make two cats take notice.

After I had their attention, we swapped Pamela out for Leslie. She had enough milk for both the cats to feast and for the dogs to get a good taste. Finally Miss Marcie, our Dairy Queen, stepped onto the milking stand. Although well fed, both felines lurked about the base of the milking stand--watching and waiting. They did not have to wait for long. Soon a fresh bowl of Marcie's milk was laid at their feet.

I did not hear her say it, but I think Annabelle swore, "I'm never leaving the barn again!" after that feast. Barney, our cat-about-town, still wanders. He likes to visit the self-proclaimed Cat Lady next door. After all she feeds gourmet treats twice daily. He did try hanging about the front porch, too, in spite of our continued mutterings of "No cats on the porch."

Adolescent fowl on the porch stairs; right: Lawrence, Guinea cock

What fixed him, though, had nothing to do with humans. No, yesterday afternoon I stepped out onto the front porch in time to hear Barney hiss and see him come flying up the porch stairs and streaking over to me. Unable to fathom what might have scared him, I walked to the porch edge. There I found the adolescent roosters fluffing about. Apparently they'd been snoozing on the stairs when Barney tried to pass, so they attacked the interloper. I'd say they did a good job; they just about scared the mice right out of him!