The tree still stands!

We have always had little Charlie Brown trees, cut down from The Wood, but this year, with the three cats newly in the house, we were thinking it might be a disaster. On top of that, we both came down with really bad colds so have just been trying to survive, if I may be so dramatic [we are both recovering though].

Martyn's cold was subsiding and he was feeling pretty good this weekend, me, not so much. But when I came down from some time in the upstairs studio, he had surprised me with a little tree, and had all the lights up and some decorations. We had always stuck with a bird and fruit theme, and these are pretty much unbreakable. I didn't put up any of the family treasures, some of those ornaments are 100 years old!

Anyway, I'm so glad he did this, it was such a nice surprise to come down stairs and see it lit up, such a sweet little tree. And so far, no Flying Squirrels have taken her down! Mister Moseley came on the table right after we were finished, and I really felt he was saying thank you, he sat and looked at the lights for the longest time...and then went back to bed.

We celebrate Papi!

Papi turned a year older and we celebrated with him this week. Papi is one of the youngish elders in the Elder Cat Suite, turning 10. When the shelter took him in he had such bad case of urinary issues that he had chewed his penis off. Surgery was done to help what was left, poor chap.

If you have met Papi you know he is not one we have to worry about keeping weight on! The opposite. He is a portly fellow but what is funny is he is always the one to sit back and let everyone else eat first, so I try to give him as little wet food as possible. But on his birthday, we did not measure his intake.

Everyone needs a day off from counting calories, I told him.

{If you are one of the I-Love-Papi-Club people, feel free to send him a donation, or cat food [of course the latter will be hidden in a locked safe}

The old cat gets older

Sir Tigger, who was one of the first elder cats we adopted out of the shelter once in Maine, has turned 18. He was the oldest elder for a long time but last month we brought on Gilda a twenty year old and her 15 year old son. Tig doesn't mind, he takes life pretty casually, hanging back from the crowd, not fearful of anything but not a bully either. He will let you know when he is not in the mood for what you might be in the mood for.

He came with the name Tigger, and I added the Sir to it...it is fitting and if you ever meet him you will understand.

If you like our work with the elders, consider a donation, or visit our Wish List page where you can buy cat food for Tigger and friends. {Thank you}

A house built for tiny people full of cats

Our house is small. It is cozy. We are lucky that nobody destroyed the integrity of the house, built in 1760, and when we moved in we basically freshened up wall colors and wood work. I still have to paint the upstairs which was painted at some point for young children and is not my taste. but it was a relief to move in and not hate the interior. In our last farm, we spent years and lots of sweat equity to fix it and take it out of it's 1970's outdated and not-to-our-taste decor, not to mention just fix everything that was outdated. We have things to do here, the kitchen needs help...but basically the house is what it was, and will be for the remaining time we are here. Not only do we not have the money to expand it, it would ruin the house, in our minds. I would love a lager entry with a real mud room, instead the 'mud room' is an uninsulated 8x8 room, stuffed full of recycling, boots...and 'whatever needs to go somewhere until it is gone' room. I was at a friend's beautiful old home, small, but they remodeled it and it has an entry and mud area that I coveted. But then I got over it when I returned to my little oasis.

This house is cozy, as I say. I joke it was built in a time when people were much tinier. I imagine what it was like for The Rhoades with all those kids, and that was before they added on the 'meeting room' in the 1800's, I believe. I imagine the kids all slept in one room.

The good thing about this small house is we have to think about any thing we bring into it. There is no chance for gathering a lot of stuff. I've never been a knick knack person, but this house has very little storage. We have just enough glasses and plates to fit in the tiny kitchen. If I wanted to rob a bank and splurge on new linens, there would be no place to put them.

So that is that. We live simply, always have, and are content.

And just because we have little storage, does not mean I can't stuff the house with animals. Three cats, two dogs and some birds...oh, and the bunny. I think Omar, Oscar and Mister Mosely fit in with the wall color and furniture quite well, don't you? Our fireplace area where we have our tiny dining table, has a beautiful wood floor like the rest of the house-it is covered in dog beds. But somehow, it all works.

I like it.

Flying squirrel in an old man's body

Omar turns 15 today. Everyday he rises at 4am, flies around the house [literally] and then once Martyn is up at 5, Omar returns to bed. I have no idea what he is thinking at such an hour, but, I guess I envy his ambition to get up that early, one gets so much done if one gets up that early. I am more of a 'rise around 7ish' kind of girl.

So raise a paw to Omar. We are so happy he and his son Oscar came into our home, and Mister Mosely of course. Taking in elder cats from the local shelter has brought with it such good things-like watching an old man fly through the air. As long as he is able, I tell him.

Omar does not liked to be picked up, but he loves to lap sit and now with the fire season, he likes to sit on Martyn's lap while he is in his rocker by the fire. It is wonderful to be squashed together in our tiny little living area, with two dogs and three cats, sipping cocktails and pipe dreaming. I wonder if the original settlers here, The Rhoades, ever did that. I imagine they were pretty tired by sunset. And cold.

Miss Spring has died

I have to tell you the news that we had a death last night. It was expected, and in some ways I was relieved. Miss Spring was one of the elder cats. She came here in spring after she was brought to the shelter out of a hoarding home, where the owner had died and neighbors knew there were animals in the house. At the time the shelter told me about her, I put off taking her because Laci was not well, and eventually would die. I think it was another month before I went to see her, and she had been at the shelter for a few months.

I named her Miss Spring since it was a new beginning for her, and it was the season. She was the sweetest old lady, every morning she was there on the table for me, mehing, when ever I opened the door. I always picked her up and held her, I'm so glad I did that. Not every cat likes to be held, and get a smoochy face from a human, but she did. I knew a couple weeks ago her behavior had changed and she was fading and she had declined really fast. On Tuesday when the vet was here, I told her my thoughts, and she concurred. In the last two days, she was transitioning and I was able to tell her it was okay to let go, and slowly she did. I have two piles of raw wool from the sheep and in winter the cats love it. She had bedded down in one for the past few days, it was not her normal spot but I knew she was cradled in comfort there. She wasn't showing distress, just fading. This morning, she was gone, sleeping in her wool bed, the other cats up and about on a new day.

When I got the email about taking on the 20 year old [also a Calico, like Miss Spring] and her 15 year old son, I thought of Miss Spring. One might have thought, "It's not fair to Miss Spring, wait until she dies before bringing in another." But I knew when I got that email, Miss Spring was somehow showing me she was letting go, and she accepted this, and less than 24 hours after the new elders arrived, Miss Spring was gone. She did not rise yesterday, I talked to her and petted her, Noritsu as usual came to my aid to nurse us.

And this morning, I did all my chores in the cat room, and attended to the living, first, before going to her, because I could tell she was gone by looking at her body, tucked into her wool bed. Finally, I reached down to touch her, and she was indeed dead.

But she opened the door for another elder, one who is also probably not going to be around long, but I really innately feel the two lives were meant to entwine like this. One Calico leaves, another Calico arrives.

We are going to bury her amongst some tulip bulbs I just bought, and when I look out the dining room window in the morning, she will rise each Spring, forever.

I was minding my own business...twice

This is a two part 'Minding My Own Business story.

Part One:
A few days ago I was minding my own business, working in my office on paper stuff. An email came in from the shelter, wondering if I might be able to take on a 20 year old female cat and her 15 year old son cat. I said 'yes' without hesitation. And I said I'd come Saturday, today, to pick them up.

Part Two:
I got to the shelter and met the two old cats. The female 20 year old is really slight, and I am not sure how long she will be hanging on. She isn't really sick, except for kidney issues, but 20 is very old, and she is thin in the hindend and seems weak. The male is jet black and a nice healthy build. So I signed all the paperwork, and waited off to the side of the front room.

Once again, I was just minding my own business when I decided to venture into one of the cat adoption rooms, to pass time while I waited.

And there he was.

I swear, I had a visceral reaction. He smooched his face into me and just had this presence. My little head was all full of images of me sneaking him into the house before Martyn saw him, and I immediately began planning my Get-Cat-In-House plot. When I got home, Martyn was out in the field on the tractor-I thought this was a clear sign it was truly my lucky day as star were aligning. I made introductions of the new cat and Omar, Oscar, Muddy and Hughie. I explained to them, it is imperative you act like pros when Martyn comes in for lunch, be cool... Martyn arrived in the house and asked if I had brought home the two old cats.

"Yes," I said quietly.

He knew something was amiss. I turned my eyes toward the window seat where I'd left the newcomer.
Martyn said, "Oh myyyyyy..." in a kitty talking tone. I knew I had him hooked at first sight, just like I was.

"Wow, he is big..." and he started doing kitty coos.

So, all is well.

I have another cat in the house that is so magnificent of a cat, everyone is calm, and I still have a husband. Prepare yourself for lots of cat photos in the coming days. The two new elders arrived at the cat suite without any fanfare, and the twenty year old immediately went to sleep.

The twenty year old mother

The fifteen year old son

Oscar...the imperfection of his actions confound us...but we love him

Oscar in the front, elder Omar his papa in the back 

Omar and his son Oscar have been with us about a month now and have settled in very well. We really love them. Oscar is a year old and Omar will 14 next month. They are truly bonded and call for each other when they are apart in the house, usually joining up for naps on the bed, and coming together for window sunnings, and movie watching at night on the couch, where all of us human and beasts are stuffed together but happy as clams. Oscar likes to snuggle with Martyn during television time, Omar is my guy.

Every morning when Martyn gets up at 5:30, I stay in bed, and the minute they hear him get up, the two of them arrive with enthusiasm on the bed, to lie on me like a couch.

We have been frustrated with some of Oscar's...confusion, and I have tried everything to get him past it. Oscar uses the litter box regularly, but about 50% of the time, he decides to go pee in the house, in a specific spot by the back door. I tried bringing in a second litter box, I tried cleaning the box-literally-about four times a day. He also will poop in one of two spots on regular basis, but still uses the litter box too. Omar has no issues.

"Can't you explain it to him, Omar?" I ask him.

I can deal with a cat poop-God does know poop is just a thing around here we don't bat an eye at-but cat pee is another issue. Fortunately, he is doing it in a spot that isn't in the main part of the house. Unfortunately it is on the old wood floor. I tried spraying different urine away products that say they keep the cat from re-peeing there. False advertising. I did not want a litter box in my front hallway, so we now put a piece of tin foil down, and then a shop rag on top of that. It keeps it from soaking in the floor. I have caught him in the act and scolded him, I have caught him in the litter box and praised him. I do know there was always sort of a doggie smell there when we moved in. The house is from 1760, I am sure someone peed there at some point, maybe a moose, maybe an early settler. It's just odd he immediately used the litter box regularly, and then started this behavior. The spot he is going on is literally about six feet around the corner to his box.

We talked about separating them and putting Oscar out with the elders. But I couldn't do it. I am sure Omar would have actually kind of liked his independence in the house, but they really are bonded. I've never seen a male father cat so bonded with a youngster.

Omar and Oscar were relinguished to the shelter. From what I understand, they came from a very cat heavy population household that it sounds like had grown because they had not spayed/neautered-Omar was still in tact at age 13. The couple had retired and decided to reduce the cats because they could not afford it. We think there were so many cats around that it had become a free for all. Oscar is also tiny and I would assume was inbred if Omar was running around mating. We also notice that Oscar is ravenous, where as Omar is more mellow about eating, but eats well. When Oscar was at the shelter he had runny stool for many months and they did a bunch of tests, when he arrived here his stool was fine within a few days. I think he was simply stressed. He also barfed his food quite a bit on arrival, and that has subsided, and again I think he was used to having to gorge his food with all the other cats around.

So, that is part of the deal of taking on animals. You have to work through it, try lots of different options and give it time. I really hope Oscar grows out of this one behavior. He and Omar are here to stay...assuming he doesn't start peeing on every thing...but I am confidant that isn't going to happen or he might have to live in the elder suite.

And I look at him, when he has made this mistake, he just looks so stinking perplexed. He is really a sweet guy, as is Omar.

Omar is a truly lovely guy, going on 14 in a couple weeks

I refuse to make the bed for good reason

My routine is to get up, do my morning stuff in the bathroom, then make the bed before I have breakfast and do barn chores. Around this place, one of the few vestiges of order is that the bed gets made. But of late, I can't bring myself to disturb these two. I mean, they are still in their we've been through a lot and need extra attention in order to fully relax in our new surrounding.

And so, the bed didn't get made. And life went on just as it does each day.

Omar and Oscar, I am glad life is nor hard for you.

I was minding my own business...and this happened

You know the routine...I was minding my own business yesterday morning...really. And then I saw some roosters had been sent to the shelter, the same shelter all the elder cats we have adopted come from. After we had to cull the last rooster for his very aggressive behavior, I told Martyn that my next rooster would be a Bantie. My first rooster, Papa Roo, was a Bantie and I just loved him. The last roo ripped the girl's backs up, they are still recuperating a month later, and he was attacking me, from behind, and despite all my rooster training and whispering–pinning him to the ground, acting like a rooster, not letting him get away with it–he continued to get worse.

So, there were these little Seabright roosters, very different than any roos I'd had, they are really small, about a pound! I figured there would be less possibility for him to mount the girls, or bug them much-if anything I worried the hens would gang up on him.

Well, I got to the shelter, saw the roos, and went into the front office where they know me now-it was very busy-so I waited in one of the cat rooms.

And two blue silver boys came walking over to me immediately. They were super friendly, a 13 year old father and his 1 year old son. Martyn and I haven't had a cat in the house since Big Tony died. I have been keeping my eyes open for the right cat to live in the house. And it was sort of instantaneous. These two just...well, I felt certain they would be a good fit. I didn't even mull it, it just felt very instinctively the right thing to do.

They were relinquished to the vet when their owners, retired, felt they could not afford all the cats, so kept a couple and kept the father and son together and sent them to the shelter. The two are very bonded, which I find sort of unusual for a father cat, but they really are buddies. And even though he is 13, he plays a lot. They are both on special food, for life. I like having a senior and a kid, it is very Apifera.

So I went in for a rooster, and came home with a rooster and two cats. I got out of there before I took home the depressed and sassy white bird.

The little rooster spent the night in a crate near the hens, and this morning I let him out, he is doing just fine so far. And the two cats came into the house and I secured them in the bathroom, thinking they'd spend the night there to settle a bit. I had texted Martyn and told him to be careful if he came home to not open the bathroom door quickly, giving him no further details. When he got home, he went in to the bathroom, and saw a cat, who came instantly to him...and then another cat came to him. He immediately was cooing love words to them.

That went well.

We decided to just let them explore, it had to happen sooner or later. Muddy was fine with them. He knows to just stay out of the way of cats, although he preens them and in time I know that will be the case. Hughie, blind, tends to bark a bit when he needs help or is uncertain about something. So he knows the cats are here, he just hasn't quite figured them out yet, but really doesn't care.

About three in the morning the cats were up, playing "Run like crazy all around the bedroom and slide under the bed on the wood floors"...so I guess they were having a grand time, and I took it as a compliment. Things were pretty calm this morning, and as you can see, they now own the house pretty much.

They are of course, enamored with the large floor to ceiling bird cage of the Zebra Finches. I tied all the doors shut and am trying to teach them not to bat at the sides of the cage. That is my only concern–they will stress my Little Apiferians out...but I think it will be okay.

I guess the biggest surprise for me last night was...just how happy it made me to have not one, but two cats roaming in the house again. We have always had multiple house cats coming and going, and I didn't realize just how much I missed it. These two will not be going outside.

So much for minding my own business.

It's a Cat with a Hat, of course

A cat with a hat

sits on a shelf.

A cat with a hat is

all by himself.

Or he is?

No, because 

he is a cat

with a hat.

Paco the Poet wants you to know he did not write this poem, I did.

In which we must acknowledge Stanley and Janet Jane Josephine are gone

I had hoped it wasn't so, but I really feel it is, the barn cats have been taken by Nature, most likely, the red fox.

Stanley had not been seen for about three weeks, but JoJo was coming and going, even getting to the comfort level of sitting near me without fleeing. I remember I saw her most mornings right before the barn project started. Because the hay was gone, we were waiting for the harvest, I knew the barn project might make her leave the barn during the noisiest parts of the day. But the food was going on uneaten, and I have not seen her since, which is about three weeks. I thought when the hay arrived she might return, but I have not seen her.

At the same time, we had been noticing a red fox outside the lower pasture. We saw him three times around dusk. He was leaping at rodents or rabbits near the marshy area, and this was a place the cats would go when they first ventured out.

I really think he got them. Yes, it is possible they went of to another place...it is possible. But Jojo was talking more those last days. Perhaps she was ill, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

I feel quite badly about this. And I do not think I will bring adult ferels on anymore-UNLESS- they show up on their own, then they will be welcome to stay and I will care for them and attend to them spaying and neutering. I have nothing against the feral society that trapped these cats, spayed/neutered/vetted them-they are doing a worthy job for so many cats out there, especially with high incidence of rabies in Maine. But I have no idea where these cats came from-perhaps they were city cats, and I wonder if they had any instinct to be in Nature. Yes, there is an instinct in an animal to survive, but...after rearing 25 ferels out West, with most of them living very long lives, I just wonder if I did a disservice to these two.

I know my intentions were right. I also believe animals pick up on our true intentions pretty quickly-if not immediately. I had many talks with them. I did my best...but from now on, unless it is a mama feral with kittens, or wandering ferels who see the light in the barn and decide to stop in to test the waters, I don't think I'd bring two adults here unless I really knew their background. I suppose if someone had a true barn cat that had lived in a real barn, with indoor outdoor life, it might be one thing.

So we raise a glass to them. If they died, I hope it was a quick kill. I hope they didn't suffer.

If they come back..you will be the first to know. The universe around me knows my intentions with animals, the invisible gate is open to them.

Papi is terrified he might lose weight

Shout out to all the Apifera Cat Angels out there- we are very low on cat food for the Elder Cat Suite. The last cat food call was so successful I have not done one for many months, so thank you to all who have helped in the past.

The Apifera Wish List is where you can buy the food for us. It's always nice if you leave your name when you shop, so I know who sent it [Papi keeps a journal of Cat Angels].

Papa was terrified he might lose weight if we run out of food, I promised him that would not happen. We can't let Papi lose his beautiful figure.

We use both the urinary tract canned food, and the dried Science Diet. I also accept the Purina cheaper food, because Anna seems to do well on that.

The cats are all doing well. I keep thinking I need to have some Cat Drawing Days, to bring people into the farm and mingle with the cats and draw. I will. The barn project is keeping us very busy and there are only so many things I can do at once. My art days have fallen to the wayside, but they will return!

15 years for the white cat

Noritsu turns 15 tomorrow. What a magnificent cat he is. There is mystery about white animals, a spiritual aspect to them that does not go unnoticed at Apifera. There is the mystery of White Dog, the shape shifter of Marcella, and now Noritsu. Noritsu brought himself to me, there is no doubt. I saw his photo at the shelter, one that I don't normally adopt cats from, and that face stuck with me. A couple months later, after his face kept coming into my mind, I adopted him. Little is known of his past, except that he came from out of the area.

The past lives of these cats...what they knew, who they knew, where they lived...we never really have the answers. But I spend time just peering into their eyes, or resting my forehead on theirs...much is said that way. I just have never been able to put it into words...yet.

I hope we have many years with Noritsu. I call him Nurse Noritsu at times. When Laci, and Maxine were dying, it was Noritsu who stood with me while I cared for them.  He cared for me.

{If you like the work we do here with the elder cats and other animals, please consider a small donation, or visit our wish list page. Thank you.}

When old cats just stick with you

I'm so glad I went back and got Miss Spring at the shelter. She had come in at some point during the weeks I was dealing with the inevitable for Laci, and not long before we lost Maxine, both very old, frail and thyroid issues. I felt I needed to hold off, not only to absorb the vet bills, but to give my heart a brief rest. But she was still there a couple months later. I'm also a sucker for Calicos, ever since Mama Kitty back in Oregon gave us years of kittens in the old barn. We could never touch Mama, only once did I, but she lived well into her 14th or older year, and came to the front porch to die in a basket, something I was touched by.

So, I finally went in to to see the calico needing a home. She had lived with someone who loved her who passed on. The cat, and her dog friend and one more cat were in descent shape, and a neighbor knew about the animals so alerted authorities when the woman died. All the animals have homes now. It turns out it was a hoarder situation, and they had to really look to find the cats.

The first thing I loved about her is she squeaks. This is reminiscent of Itty. She also does a half 'Meh' much like Itty. Just one more way that Itty Bitty lives on, both tormenting me and also comforting me. I named the elder Calico, "Miss Spring" in honor of the season, and the name is perfect for her. For not only did she arrive in the season of her name, but she is very agile and springy, leaping from table to ledge quite gracefully. The other cats do too, but I was surprised to see how far she jumps, considering her age. On a side note, watching Papi jumped is pretty comical, due to his large...um...girth. [We love you Papi].

So this cat stuck with me. I'm glad. Sometimes, an animal presents itself, and I feel the immediate need to rush to it and help. Other times, and I've had to learn this, I stand back a bit and ask if I am the one to take this creature on, am I doing it with pure motives? With Miss Spring, I was just feeling I did not have energy to take her at that moment and if she was meant to be here, it would happen, and it did. The shelter here is a very good one, the people are great and I knew the cat was fine there. Now, looking back, I'm glad I did not wait one day longer.

I have thought of bringing her in the house. We are catless in the house since Big Tony died. I have his cat basket all ready for a new cat, sitting in the window that looks out on M'Lady and the gardens....but we have not gone further at this point. We will. And I wonder if she might be a good candidate. The thing is, she seems very content in the Elder Cat Suite, and they do form a network in there. She has her windows that sit right in the woods, letting in dappled sunlight at morning and dusk. In time, they will be able to roam in the upper loft-a project that keeps getting pushed aside but will happen at some point. They all seem very content. I love each one of them and am grateful for the people that send us cat food and care about what we are doing here.

{If you like what we do here, please consider a donation, or a visit to our Wish List. Thank you.}

Wisdom of the cat

"I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, 

than be crowded on a velvet cushion."

- Henry David Thoreau

Well, when not in pumpkin season, we will take a box.

Old cat ballet

The sun comes in the elder cat suite in a vibrant way. They have panoramic views of The Wood. They all love to gather, and sun.

There is something so beautiful about the way a cat can sit, and sit, and sit, and then make a slight adjustment to his stance and it creates another beautiful pose, or gesture of emotion, like ballet.

{If you like our Elder Cat Suite, please consider a donation or visit the Apifera Farm Wish List too. Thank you}.

Stanley leaves, Stanley returns

Last week I noticed that Stanley J. Catfish was not at morning feedings which is the norm. Since they came, the two cats have been a bonded unit, where one is, the other follows.

But I didn't think too much about it, and went on with my feedings. Still, it was not right. After all the ferels and barn cats we had taken on out West, I knew they often disappear, sometimes for many days, a few weeks even, and return unscathed. And sometimes they don't return.

I just knew it was odd that the two were a unit, unlike the cats out west, who were part of a huge clan and separate barns, so they had more interdependence from each other.

I waited a few days, and lost hope, and posted about it on Instagram. I think it was two days later, and there he was at breakfast. I was so happy to see him. He must have thought I was nuts because I sang to him, discussed his where abouts, gave him a lecture [oh yea, cat lectures really work, right?] and sat with him too, looking to see if there were any wounds on him.

The night of his return, he was extra hungry at dinner I thought, and I sat with him while he ate, pushing the bowl with my finger, and then touching his head. I'm trying to tender them both up in time for autumn rabies shots-it would make it much easier for everyone including them.

This morning at feedings, after being back one day, he was not there.

So Stanley J. Catfish must have a double life, a really good reason not to be around for a free and easy meal of stinky cat food, which he devours when he is present. I wondered if he might be onto a female somewhere, since he was only neutered about three months ago and it supposedly takes about 6 months for their wanderlust hormones to dissipate after neutering. Or maybe he is just napping, maybe he is ill and wants to be alone...maybe he has a pickup out in The Wood and he drives away to a cabin once a week. He might even have a passport.

Such is the mystery of the barn cat.

I was thinking though how quickly I had lost my hope when he left. I have been through this so many times, but instead of taking the 'think positive' route, I just accepted pretty quickly an eagle or fox got him, thinking he wasn't that worldly as other ferels I've known. I wondered if I'm losing my touch, my innate gut feeling-something we all have for sure-but I practice at listening to my intuition, and I wondered if I wasn't listening, or what had made me so doubtful this time.

I don't know. Maybe it's that death is everywhere there is life, and sometimes, especially on a small farm, it is best to acknowledge, and move on or one can go crazy worrying, wondering, imagining what happened. Was it a quick kill, was he stuck somewhere, had he been hit...on and on.

I'm not sure what the lesson is in what I just wrote. But I do know, as always,

Nature knows more than I do.

So does the darn cat.