I've written several stories about horses and dogs, but I've also had cats around most of my life, so I thought it appropriate to share some cat stories with you, for the sake of all you cat lovers out there.

A Big Yellow Tabby

We had cats all during my childhood - always at least one, tho many times we had quite a few. My favorite cat when I was a child was a big yellow tabby tom cat. He was simply the most beautiful, majestic yellow tabby I have ever seen, even to this day. I must have been around twelve when we had him as our guest at the old farm house where I was raised. I say "guest" because no one owns a cat, even tho they may think otherwise.

I still have a photograph of Elsie, the black lady who helped raise me and my siblings [see other stories where she appears - especially the one about Santa Claus], sitting in a chair on the little patio we had at the rear of the house, with that big ol' yellow tabby sitting in her lap. Other than his great beauty, and the fact that he was "my" cat, and not "our" cat, the one thing that stands out in my memory of this big tom cat was his comings and goings. He would leave our "guest house" for long periods at a time, I presume galivanting around courting the lady cats. One time, he left for six months before returning. Of course we worried about him the entire time he was gone off having fun! Then, the next to last time he left, he was gone for a solid year. This time we decided that he must be dead, for sure, and stored him away in our memory bank of beloved pets that had gone on to the cat or dog afterlife. Then, one day, there he was, acting like he had never left!

This time, however, he only allowed us a few days, maybe a week or two at the most, before leaving again. This departure was his last, and we never saw him again. I fancy that he continued to court the ladies until, perhaps, getting along in years, he met a younger, stronger rival for their feline affections, and met a courageous but violent end - a good death for a great tom cat! 

Barn Cats

Some folks just don't like cats, and some folks hate 'em. But I don't think there's a farmer or rancher around who doesn't find them useful. If you have livestock, whether horses, cows, or whatever, you're also going to have rats and mice, who will move into your barn or feed storehouse and wreak havoc. You can set traps and put out poison, to little effect, or you can get a few cats, feed them at the barn, and have a most effective and efficient rat/mouse eradication program.

We always had barn cats when we had horses, and we had virtually no mouse problems, even tho they were around. And every once in a while, we'd see, lying in the grass, a piece of some unfortunate rodent who had tried, but tragically failed, to penetrate our cat defenses. Cats are but small lions and tigers, and thus they are killers - and very efficient ones at that.

Have livestock? Get yourself some cats!  

Don't Pick 'em Up!

We moved to a brand new house when I was fifteen, about half a mile from the old farm house I loved and, frankly, didn't want to leave. The day we moved, a black cat crossed our path as we neared the top of the hill on which the house sat. We took that as an omen - tho not an evil one - and so named the place "Black Cat Hill". 

This cat turned out to be a she, with green eyes and a pure black, glossy, thick coat. Well, the next thing we knew we had a litter of kittens, all like her, exactly! In a few years, our black cat population had grown to over twenty-five, and most of them - there being too many to play with and domesticate - were wild. At this point, my Dad decided that the cats had to go, so I gathered them up in the trunk of my car and took them all on a little ride down to McShan, just a few miles away - all but one, who was too wild to catch. My Dad shot him, and I've always thought that I should have tried harder (tho I tried very hard) to catch him. 

Thus we were rid of the cats for whom our home had been named. I had asked Dad if we could keep one or two, but he said "No". When Dad got something into his head, that was that! We had other cats after that, including a big calico named "Big Kitty" who lived to a very old age, but no cat population explosion. And no black cats, ever again.

Several years later I was visiting Lizette and Hortense Shepard, two old maid sisters who lived right in McShan. Lizette was the postmistress for the McShan Post Office, and Hortense was the house- keeper. Both have passed away, many years ago.

I was at their back door, talking to Lizette, when one of those cats (I know it was one of ours as sure as I'm telling you this story) walked up, crying at Lizette for something to eat. Well, that being, for sure, one of our cats, I reached down and picked him up. Instantly, that cat became a whirling ball of furious black fur, with its razor blade claws extended and slashing. I couldn't turn loose of it fast enough! In an instant, the cat was out of my hands and gone, leaving behind my two mangled hands. They were deeply lacerated with multiple wounds, and the blood was dripping everywhere. Lizette insisted that I come in and let Hortense bandage my wounds. I protested to no avail, so I left a trail of blood all the way down the center hall of that old house, up to the room where Hortense was. Bless her heart, she cleaned and bandaged my hands with love, the blood on the beautiful, highly polished heart pine hall floor was mopped up, and I was able to go on my way.

If you haven't figured it out yet, the moral of this story is that if you meet grown cats whom you do not know, DON'T PICK 'EM UP!!!
   

Copyright May 20th, 2008 by Tom Woodard

Note: Many years later, I met a wonderful girl who had four sibling jet black cats. Three of the four had long fur, but one, Mega, had short hair just like the cats at Black Cat Hill. Mega and I got to be pretty good buddies, and I still keep in touch to see how he's getting along.

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