The Homesteader

     The last few weeks, the idiots of the world have been busy in Morrow County.  Doing what, you ask?  Dumping their cats--as if by some magic trick they're capable of surviving on their own out here in the country.  I would love to wave a magic wand of my own--as alluded to on facebook--and send those dirtbags off into the Alaskan hinterlands and see how great they would be at survival.  Anyway, just since the first of October, I've seen five cats around the Acres that have never been here before.  I walk the Acres, they run; the proverbial "scaredy" cats--not that I blame them.  Common cat sense would tell them they are in a precarious position.  I've seen two gray cats--one just a kitten, a black and white cat, an orange tabby, a calico, and a little white kitten.  They have, for the most part, made themselves scarce.  Only one of the group has stayed nearby.  The little white kitten--hereafter officially designated The Homesteader--from the very onset has decided that my old dilapidated wooden shed right behind my house was going to be hers.  From her point of view there has never been a question of ownership rights.  It is her place--thank you.
     She has one blue eye and one green eye but doesn't seem the least bit awkward about it.  Obviously, what someone would think of her strangeness is their hangup, not hers.  She can see quite well with both of them.  And if you don't like it, well, just move on; she's not counting on sharing her new home anyway.  And she has no use for the white cat legends.  She can hear fine as well, too.  She also has a marvelous voice for such a little urchin.  And is quite willing to use it in all its contralto splendor whenever she feels like it (i.e. whenever she wants something.)  She is not the least bit intimidated by other cats either.  She has had two brief encounters with some of the other dropoffs.  One of the gray cats, three times her size thought he or she could move in and take the food I had set out for her.  Not so fast.  She didn't back down an inch, and he slinked away into the trees.  She also met the calico--a huge beast--and they just sat next to each other and exchanged cat pleasantries until the calico wandered off.  The calico is a gorgeous cat and fat; maybe she actually belongs to someone in the neighborhood, and I just haven't seen her before.  (That would be great!  And decrease the population in Alaska by one.)  She was back later this week admiring the birds on Mom's bird feeder, a real Audubon fan.
     The Homesteader, for the most part, stays very near the shed.  I have begun feeding here there perhaps that is part of the attraction  Though she has also made it into her safe haven.  Both of the outlaws have chased her at least once a piece, and she scampers under the shed for safety.  Often, she comes out on the other side just in case they are still there.  I have told the gang members in no uncertain terms to leave her alone and to stay out of the shed, and they have run off, but I don't know if the warning would be effective if I wasn't there to "enforce" it.  I hate to scold my furry dog friends, but she would have no chance against either one of them.  She has also learned to fly.  I keep trying to find her wings under her fur, but no luck so far.  I'm sure she's a fairy cat.  Somehow she climbs--uh, I mean flies--up into the top of the rafters in the shed and that's where she spends the nights and some of the days.  Though being a cat, on sunny days, she does like to sit outside the shed during the day and take her cat naps there.  She has started to gain some confidence, and I don't know if that's a good thing for her long term survival or not.  She lets me pet her now; in fact, insists on it at times.  It's called "training the human that feeds you."  And she's wandered a little.  If I'm working near by, planting or mulching or whatever, she comes and joins me and gives me more instructions than I could possibly use.  She also likes to go around to the front of the abode and entertain the birds at Mom's feeder.  I even think she has a taste for sunflower seeds and peanuts.  Who knew?  This afternoon she disappeared for awhile.  She may have been doing that everyday, but this evening when I went out to feed her--yes, I'm well trained--she wasn't around.  An hour later she came out from under the shed demanding supper.  I can only imagine that she's decided to use the groundhog tunnels under there for her holiday excursions.  Though that seems strange too.  If you read a nature article sometime on groundhogs who swear there is a weird ghost cat wandering their tunnels with two eerie different colored eyes, the musings will be confirmed.  Maybe she'll evolve into a new breed--the ground cat or the tunnel cat, or Homesteader the friendly ghost cat?
     I hope she, somehow, can survive the winter.  I'm trying to find someone to adopt her.  I'll do what I can until that happens.  Yeah, on occasion I've been know to have a soft heart or a soft head whichever applies.  I'll feed her.  If she's still here when the cold sets in, I'll put some old rags in the rafters so she has a place to sleep.  I guess I could really go daffy and enlarge the squirrel hole in the bottom of the shed door and keep it closed so that only she could go in and out.  Did I just say that?  I'm losing my mind.  Sigh.
     So, if anyone needs to have their cat training updated--yours not hers--The Homesteader awaits you.  She is all cat, trust me.  Independent, quite the vocal artist, smarter than the average human, and looking to adopt.  Come on by.  Make a friend for life--on her terms, of course.