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No farm would be complete without a feline or two (or in our case, three) to do the dirty work of vermin control. Luckily, we hit the jackpot when it came to cats who keep up their end of the bargain.

And luckily, this is not what our farm cats look like.  Usually.

A little bit of cat food, a scratch in the crook between their shoulder blades and the removal of problem-causing body parts and we were blessed with healthy, friendly, loyal cats (have you ever tried to keep an intact cat from roaming?  Hence spaying and neutering was the culmination of body part removal).  Ultimately, the rodent population has been ideally subdued.

Like most of the animals that have lived here, the cats were rescued or as I like to joke, recycled.  We adopted them as dependent kittens when they were dropped off at the vet’s office where I worked.  The mother was a stray that had been hanging around after birth but had mysteriously gone missing for several days.  To compound the problem, they were leaving for a lengthy vacation.  I am grateful for the thoughtfulness of the previous owners in bringing them to us rather than proving heartless and tossing the kittens out on the side of the road to die.  Though I realize indecent acts towards animals does not top the list of awful things human beings are capable of, it still twists my stomach in knots.


I’ll spare you a good ranting earful about people who mistreat animals and suffice it to say that Jack and I were arranging our move onto an acreage after graduation so I allowed myself to fall in love with them.  I have to credit my mom here though–in the midst of moving, she kept the cats behind and enjoyed their infancy and early youth.  By the time they came to live with us, they had been bottle fed, weaned, socialized and named.

RJ is the striking grey who is extremely friendly, good with kids and quite the comedic (as if you couldn’t see that by his photo).


Hercules, the brown tabby, is aptly named–his favorite past time, other than bringing down unusually large prey for a cat, includes a good fight with other cats in which he usually wins.  What a stinker.


The calico is Snickers and as sister, she endures a lot of abuse from her brothers when they decide they’re bored.  She is the most dainty of the three but her hiss is ferocious enough to let everyone know when she’s angry.

I have innumerable stories to share about these loveable felines as they have been one of the contributing factors to our enjoyment (and occasional frustration) living in the countryside.


3 Responses

  1. So cute! When we had our little mouse situation last winter I begged and begged Daniel for a cat – alas, he said no. So now I can live vicariously through your blog – which, by the way, is written beautifully! You sure do know how to tell a story! I've already added you to my Google Reader so I'll know whenever you post!!! Congrats on joining the blog party – it's a blast!

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Our budding family

Welcome to the farm!

True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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