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Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Georgia the Cat

Here on our farm we have one dog and one cat. Here is the dog.....
Josie Posie is not all that bright but she is loyal and so we keep her around. Notice the purple crayon. For whatever reason, that is her favorite snack. That and the tootsie roll pops she keeps pulling out of the boys Halloween buckets.

This is Fernie Cow, the cat. She is the Queen Princess. This means she rules above all and she must be spoiled rotten like a princess. Folks, I followed her all over the house to get her photo. She ended up finally stopping in our BASEMENT. A creepy, don't go to at all cellar. THAT is what she did to me...crazy cat. She had to twist and turn on the floor and suddenly take an interest in darkness specks and then she finally, hearing the desperation of my voice, looked at me. No, the floors in our house are not gravel. No, our steps are not that bad. It's our CELLAR !!!

Fernie Cow, keeping the princess theme, must never step outside. Imagine the barbarity of it! (keep in mind, she was born in a barn. Next to a manure pit.)

So when the boys came running down the steps (when they were supposed to be cleaning) and told me that Fernie was outside, well, I was pretty sure that they were just trying to get out of cleaning. And when Fernie was found sleeping, I was sure.

Except they kept informing me that Fernie was indeed outside.

And then one day, here comes this big male cat and he does look shockingly like Fernie Cow.
Eerily so.

S2, who knows all animals are pets whether the animal knows it or not, was determined this cat needed to have a our home. Our neighbor, IM, was more than willing to help. It was “operation save cat”.

They would sneak cat food out...and Fernie Cow being the Queen Princess she is, needs hairball food. I mix a little with the other food she has to help with the feline problem and THAT was the food the boys grabbed! Thankfully, it was just a handful.

They called the cat. The chased the cat. They 'cornered' the cat in a pile of brush. I came around the corner to find them holding the kitchen door open with a trail of food headed into the kitchen and the two boys cooing “here kitty kitty....” I think the idea there was that the cat looked so much like Fernie Cow that we wouldn't notice it.

Between the boys harassing the cat and the fact that the cat found out that the chicken scraps don't always make it out of the chickens at night and instead spend the whole night unguarded in a bucket by the kitchen door, the cat has decided it loves our house. Go figure.

We eat dinner and the cat looks in the window and meows. We go outside and the cat meows. The cat meows to say hello. The cat meows to say goodnight.

The cat has the worst sounding, most hideously loud and annoying meow.

The other night we are sitting at dinner and S2 is going on and on and on about the cat. The cat's name is now Georgia. “Georgia?” I ask, nearly spitting my water out.

“Yes.” He says “He told me that would be a great name because it's kind of a boy name, George, and kind of a girl name, Georgia.”

How do you argue with that?

The problem is, the word is out. I am cleaning yesterday and a beautiful calico cat shows up right to my kitchen door. I call JM, my neighbor/renter and IM's mom, “do you have a calico cat?”

“Is it big and fat?”

“nope. Kinda skinny but pretty looking. I'd say teenager cat.”

“No, not mine." Pause. "Oh no,” she groans, “the word is out.”

“We had better get a big bag of cat food at the feed store,” I agree.

Because, really, who can resist two boys who name a cat Georgia and are sure they are your long lost best friend?

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