My first chore of the morning is to feed the resident critters. This morning, I was running a little late. (My husband had already started the coffee and let some of the house-cats and garage critters out.) When I catered Potter the Porch Cat's breakfast, I heard a meow from out of thin air—but no cat in sight. Then I looked up.
Chloe was on the roof. It looked as if she might be ready to come down, but the distance was a bit far.
I went to the back of the house and called her. Soon she appeared.
She checked out how far it was from gutter to deck. Too big a leap for a small kitty.
So she went to the western corner of the roof where the red-top tree hangs over.
After checking the distance, she made a leap onto the branch . . .
. . . and soon started down.
Meanwhile the barn critters were getting impatient. When I drove to the barn, Twiggy and her children Spotz and Sherman were waiting on the flatbed where they like to be fed.
Olivia—Chloe and Jim-Bob's mother who made a career change from house-cat to barn-cat—was waiting near her flatbed.
Soon Twiggy, Spotz, and Sherman were eating. . . .
. . . and so was Olivia.
The sound of a hoof banging against the gate alerted me that Melody wanted to be fed NOW. As soon as her breakfast was in the bucket, she started wolfing it down. She hadn't even taken the time to shake the shavings from her mane.
And that's how this morning began. Perhaps Chloe was inspired by this song from the summer of 1962:
Labels: cats, horse, rural life