Alone again, for the day. Loverboy was up before the alarm went, so he turned it off and let me sleep while he made breakfast for the boys and surfed the Internet for construction information. I awoke at a quarter to eight, just as Don was in the porch starting to put his shoes on.

It was a groggy first few minutes, wherein I scrounged up money to send with Don for a peroghy-lunch sale at school, and descended into the storeroom to open a new bag of dry catfood and refill the one-gallon ice-cream pail Barney keeps in the shed to feed them from.

Loverboy’s had a simple but very good idea: start feeding the felines at the barn so they’ll congregate there and we won’t have to blockade our door every time one of us goes in or out. I hate having to guard the door with my feet, L does too, and both boys holler and freak whenever a cat bolts into the porch, as if it’s an emergency. Don especially is unable to coordinate an effective defence of the entry.

Their food is kept in the shed and that’s where they’re fed. None of them have ever been allowed in the house. Yet they know that is the good place to be and seem determined to get in whenever possible.

We started by feeding and caring for one orphaned kitten. Then another joined him at the trough, and the wild mother started putting our yard on her daily rounds so her four wild kittens would know where to find us. Then one indoor-priveleged cat got itself kicked out of South Forks and relocated, and another cat appeared out of the ether.

Last week, a big grey tom was here humping all the little girls. We’re having kittens, yay!

Living out here is a treat, one reason being the animals. Which I talk to. All of them. They are curious, some affectionate. The cattle stink like cattle, the pigs stink like pigs, the chickens like chickens, and I have been known to cover my nose in the barn and thank the gods I don’t have to spend time in there every day.

xoxo
Kate