The late fall weather was perfect for a walk and I had a young donkey colt to train, so we set out down the side of a relatively busy country road at about 11:00 am. Trucks were going by, school buses were returning to the elementary school, and the colt was doing very well. I scratched his ears and patted his neck. Good boy.
A strange bird called from the bushes across the street. Donkey swiveled his giant antennae ears towards it. Another call, but, almost a mewing, vice a chirping. Against my better judgment, I called out the universally known, "Kitty, kitty?". Anxious mewing emanated from the scrub brush. "Oh no", I thought. "But, it's probably feral and will run as soon as I approach, especially with Donkey in tow", I reassured myself. So, I waited for the traffic to clear and then walked with Donkey to the other side of the road. "Kitty, kitty", I called again, certain that the unseen cat would scamper further from me. Instead, a disturbingly thin, ten week old, black kitten ran to my feet, mewing pitifully. Donkey lowered his head and it pleaded it's case to him as well. I scooped it up in one hand and a powerful little purr motor started as the kitten continued to serenade me with needy mews. Why would someone dump a tame kitten? There were no houses nearby, but, perhaps they dumped it at the school across the street. I crossed the road and headed home, leading the donkey with one hand and cradling the kitten with the other. She was a handful of vibrating fur and bones. I have never see an animal eat as fast or talk to it's food the way that creature did. Once it was safely tucked away in a carrier, fed, and watered, I called the vet to schedule an immediate check. Shortly after I found the kitten, it rained. Hard. That night was cold for Northern Florida. It would have been a bad night for a starving kitten.
She, as it turns out, was
negative for feline leukemia and did not appear to have any upper respiratory
illnesses, so she was vaccinated, spayed and wormed before I picked her up from
the vet's the following day. I could
easily see the outlines of her hips, vertebra, and shoulders. To my surprise, she was about six months old, but small.
She was groggy that first night, from her surgery, but bounced
back like only kittens can. My husband named her Bagheera. Despite her rough start, she grew quickly and caught up to our other female kitty, who was just a few months older. She is stunningly black; even
her whisker and claws. No white fur
anywhere. Her eyes are yellow with green
around the pupils.
Trips to the vet became the stuff of legend. While our other two kitties were large eyed, but relatively cooperative, Bagheera was in full battle mode as soon as we walked in the door. The sounds from her crate were frightening. The poor vet tech would grimace when she saw us and whisk Bagheera to a back room to do the necessary routine care. No matter where you were in the vet clinic, you could hear her yowling threats. Every single time, the poor vet tech had a fresh scratch on her arm when she brought Bagheera back to us. She is a strong willed kitty.
As she grew into a full grown kitty, she didn't do well with our son when he was a toddler. She also spent more time with her ears pinned back at the other two cats. In that same time period, we were losing a battle with the rodents in the barn. We had a brief respite with two adopted barn cats, but they had to find indoor homes because their long, soft fur became matted very easily with the hay. The rodents moved back in after the cats left and made us miserable. We transitioned short haired Bagheera into a barn kitty, and she flourished. She was always happy and purring when we did chores. I had gotten so used to seeing her quarrelsome and angry in the house that I had forgotten how happy she could be.
Instead of trips to the vet, our mobile, large animal vet took over caring for the pets, as well as the farm animals. When it comes time to vaccinate Bagheera, we treat it like a military operation, complete with pants, gloves, and long sleeves to protect our skin. Perhaps kevlar would work better. For about a day after either shots or monthly flea/tick treatment, Bagheera glares at me with ears pinned and darts for cover. The following day, she is sweet and mild again.
When we built our tack room, we put in a cat door, so Bagheera could come and go freely for safety or warmth. She is queen of the barn and all she surveys.
The best Bagheera story is about her and Nancy the goat. Nancy was living in the first barn stall, which has a paddock behind the tack room. Bagheera's cat door exits into this paddock. The first time the two of them met was quite entertaining. Bagheera emerged from the cat door with all the grace and dignity of her species. Goats, by nature, are the disruptors of the world. The embodiment of chaos itself. Such grace and dignity could not pass within the boundaries of chaos without a collision. Nancy, in all of her tactless exuberance, bounded up to the shiny, black thing in her paddock. Bagheera froze momentarily and then took on the stance of a Halloween kitty. Nancy was completely undaunted. The little, noisy, black thing was making neat noises. What would happen it it were head butted? Nancy reared up and bounced around Bagheera, threatening her with a head butt. Bagheera lashed out with deadly claws, but the goat was too quick. Nancy was thrilled with the spitting and hissing and tried again. Swipe, dodge, rear up, bounce, swipe, hiss. It was a dance between joy and pain. At one point, Nancy was a little too slow and contact was made between a single claw and Nancy's poor nose. Nancy stopped for a moment to contemplate this, and Bagheera ran for the nearest hole in the fence. Nancy spotted her movement and gave chase. Bagheera stopped to face her and they continued their dance, with a more wary Nancy. Eventually, Bagheera made her way out and Nancy stopped to watch her, disappointed that her playmate was gone. Nancy's scratch was tiny, but she had learned to be careful. They still have a little confrontation now and again, but Nancy is more respectful and Begheera doesn't hiss at her as often.
When we built our tack room, we put in a cat door, so Bagheera could come and go freely for safety or warmth. She is queen of the barn and all she surveys.
The best Bagheera story is about her and Nancy the goat. Nancy was living in the first barn stall, which has a paddock behind the tack room. Bagheera's cat door exits into this paddock. The first time the two of them met was quite entertaining. Bagheera emerged from the cat door with all the grace and dignity of her species. Goats, by nature, are the disruptors of the world. The embodiment of chaos itself. Such grace and dignity could not pass within the boundaries of chaos without a collision. Nancy, in all of her tactless exuberance, bounded up to the shiny, black thing in her paddock. Bagheera froze momentarily and then took on the stance of a Halloween kitty. Nancy was completely undaunted. The little, noisy, black thing was making neat noises. What would happen it it were head butted? Nancy reared up and bounced around Bagheera, threatening her with a head butt. Bagheera lashed out with deadly claws, but the goat was too quick. Nancy was thrilled with the spitting and hissing and tried again. Swipe, dodge, rear up, bounce, swipe, hiss. It was a dance between joy and pain. At one point, Nancy was a little too slow and contact was made between a single claw and Nancy's poor nose. Nancy stopped for a moment to contemplate this, and Bagheera ran for the nearest hole in the fence. Nancy spotted her movement and gave chase. Bagheera stopped to face her and they continued their dance, with a more wary Nancy. Eventually, Bagheera made her way out and Nancy stopped to watch her, disappointed that her playmate was gone. Nancy's scratch was tiny, but she had learned to be careful. They still have a little confrontation now and again, but Nancy is more respectful and Begheera doesn't hiss at her as often.
The move to the new farm should be smooth for Bagheera, if we transition her carefully. Just like we did when we first brought her home, and again, when we introduced her to barn cat life, we will use an extra large dog crate as a temporary home in the new barn (which will begin to take shape today). We will feed and care for her in the crate for one week before turning her loose on the new farm. The gates and perimeter fence should keep dogs and larger wild animals out. She will move a week before we will, so she is free to roam when we get there.
Bagheer as a young kitty, with Audrey.
Bagheera now.
**Update**
Bagheera was diagnosed with aggressive osteosarcoma in her shoulder. This is a very rare cancer that cats can get. We did move her, but she didn't live very long. She never showed any illness or discomfort. Just around the time I thought about catching her and taking her to the vet to put her down to keep her from suffering, she passed away. She was a great mouser and a great barn kitty.
