I have been busy gathering the smells from around Mom’s old wood, woodpile.
Sam-Sammy-Sam has been also. Actually he has be stalking the old woodpile area; pacing here and there with that ‘I’m going to find you’ look in his eye.
Monkey (a nine-year-old, almost ALWAYS a house cat) was hanging out with us, as we were helping Mom sort the woodpile—Monkey got extremely nervous and hid –just waiting for Mom to head to house so she could beat Mom there and peel inside quickly.
The Little Buff Hen, who does NOT spend the night in the chicken house anymore, (because Mom only has ONE chicken and the chicken house is too lonely for a 6-year-old hen) acted like there was really nothing to worry about.
She said she was hanging out with Mom so she will always be safe. (You are safe, Little Hen, because Fuzzy and I are with you!)
Cluck, cluck, purr, yummy, lots of good bugs under the old wood, she cooed.
Since Fuzzy and I have been hanging out here lots; day and night, Mom got to wondering why, so she moved the night camera to find out—
“Oh”, said Mom. “I see we have more cats.”
“Two more cats. They must be wild/feral as I have never seen them in the daytime.” She mused.
“No wonder you have that look in your eye, Sammy-Sam. You need to be careful, Kitty, you aren’t a young cat anymore, you turned 13 this January.”
Harrumph! Sam growled as he turned tail and stalked over to the ditch bank. I can still hold my own! Hummm…
this grass is rather nice, I think I’ll just roll around here for a spell and scratch my back…those other cats only come at night, right now isn’t night. Besides, I usually spend most of my nights in the house next to fireplace…she doesn’t need to be such a worrywart.
“Ahhh, I see the fox is a regular little guest here. Good thing you are well protected at night little Buff Hen,” Mom said as she bent down a petted the little buff hen.
“You boys keep a sharp look out for the fox; they travel around day or night. Which, reminds me,” pondered Mom “I’m surprised we even have feral cats with the fox and the coyotes around.”
“UGH! Now this is one nasty cat, an ‘ol polecat, you need to stay far, far away from this cat all of you! That means you also, Little Buff Hen!”
You don’t have to worry about that Mom…Fuzzy and I just watch that skunk move through the yard, that’s one cat we do not want to tangle with ever again!
I agree, yelled Fuzzy as he tried to whap his tiny little bobbed tail in the air.
“Well, it’s starting to get evening and I’m getting tired. Let’s head back to the house and see what I can come up with for supper! Come on, Little Buff Hen. It’s your bedtime.”
Cats…I guess Mom knows now, Fuzzy…we have lots of cats!
Just as long as they don’t get near the house, Boomer, we don’t have to do anything about them!
That’s good, Fuzzy, real good!
Oh, look…Yummy canned dog food!
You are right, Boomer…I hate that dry as cardboard crunchy kibble stuff. I’m glad Mom has moved over to this nicer to chew (swallow, slurp, gulp) food!