Farm Fresh Blog

I have absolutely nothing to say in my defense.  I stand over dead people for a living. But still . . .

It was a typical winter morning in Texas. The temperatures were mild. There was standing water in the yard. And more rain is predicted for tonight. The morning was spent dealing with new lambs and moving hay, thus, it took me a while to notice. But there were signs . . .

There was this.

Each time I popped into the house I saw her.  Secret is the house cat, so that shouldn't have been unusual. Thus, it didn't ring any bells.

There was this:

As I went about my business outside, she tagged along at a distance. But Faith is a barn cat, so that didn't ring any bells either.

But sometime during the day, I had a thought:

Why am I seeing Secret and Faith?  They should be locked up in the Cat Room.

(fail to hear the ominous music playing in the background)

Secret, the house cat, rarely goes outside.  Faith, the Barn Cat, loves to come inside, but because her bathroom habits aren't to be trusted, when I do give in she is relegated to a spare bedroom that hasn't been re-tiled yet - The Cat Room.  If she happens to stand in the litter box, and poop OUTSIDE the litter box, it isn't a tragedy. Most of her life is spent outside, but when it is cold and wet, she begs to come inside. And last night, I gave in.

So I asked myself that little question, but shrugged it off.  Perhaps "I" had opened the door and didn't remember it.  I am often a victim of GHS - Gray Hair Syndrome. 

But then . . . I passed the doorway and the door was closed.   Hmmmm . . .  a mystery.

So I opened the door.  The sliding window above the daybed was wide open. The screen had been pulled aside.  How odd . . . I walked across the room to investigate this further. The lock swung easily in place. Ahhh . . .   Faith has been known to use her paws like fingers, thus, it wasn't a stretch to see that Faith jiggled the lock, slid open the window, popped the screen and let herself (and Secret) outside.  Secret must have come back inside through the doggy door which is a task Faith has yet to master.  Mystery solved.   So I turned to leave the room.  I still had a full day of farm work ahead of me before I actually went to the office. And that's when I glanced down.  (and that's when the music from "Pyscho" started)

I screamed. I screamed like a little girl.  I screamed and danced in place.  I screamed and danced and pointed.  Dogs came running. They observed this odd ritual with great interest.  Why do I bother to scream?  I see horrid stuff all the time. (Of course, it's not usually IN MY HOUSE!) When the screeching finally subsided, and I could catch my breath, I ran for the camera, because that's what I do.   I take pictures of gross and disgusting things, and this certainly topped the chart.

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It would appear that Faith brought me a little thank you gift. I'm sure if I look closely there is a little tag attached that reads,