I tell people that cheese is bad, but do they ever listen? ::shakes head::

A Dog Man Gets a Cat

I never liked cats much. Then Mother moved into my barn.

I found this story moving - we always had a bunch of barn cats (that were not allowed in the house). I always loved them, and felt bad that they often had short lives due to accidents with cows, cars, farm machinery, etc....

Before Mother, I was never much drawn to cats. They seemed slithery and remote. I have a farm, and cats didn't appear to be useful.

I am partial to working dogs—especially border collies and Labradors—that can herd sheep, fetch sticks, hike with me, cuddle on the sofa, and swim in nearby streams. I didn't really get having an animal you couldn't herd sheep or take a walk with.

Then the rats came.

Cindy, linking to the page is a-okay.

Cheese is god--you need to treat it with respect, but the rewards are great.

Cheese is god--you need to treat it with respect, but the rewards are great.

Also, cheese can sense fear.

Cindy, linking to the page is a-okay.

Oh, goodie! Thanks, ita.

Cheese-lovers!

Before Mother, I was never much drawn to cats. They seemed slithery and remote.

I've always been used to cats who are non-cuddly. In the sense that, they imperiously tolerate The Sapiens because they have Opposable Thumbs and provide Tribute In The Form Of Food. But they were never big snuggle-up kitties.

I was at a friend's house last night, and I was lying on my stomach reading a book, and not one but BOTH of his cats came and sat on me -- one on my back, and the other sprawled across my legs. Both of them, after some dough-kneading action that involved very little claw, immediately went to sleep. On me. It was the funniest thing ever, to me, since I always thought cats look at me and think "There will be No Snuggling, Blonde Sapiens! So it has been decreed. And don't even THINK about picking us up!"

You really have got to meet Ozzie.

That barn cat story is nice, although the "Hey, it turns out cats are useful!" thing was odd.

My grandparents had a bunch of cats on their ranch, and would put out scraps for them. They were probably just this side of feral. The cats, I mean; not my grandparents. I remember spending a while sitting on the back steps when the food was there, so the cats would get used to me. After a day or two there were a couple that would let me pet them, which impressed my grandma.

Now that I think of it... all these barn cat stories are coming back to me....

When you milk a cow, the first bit of milk you get has to be discarded. My dad would squirt this milk from the cow's teats into a little tin cup, and when he was done milking he'd feed this milk to the cats. But sometimes a cat would sit next to my dad, and he'd squirt milk from the cow's teats right onto the cat's face. They loved that.