Critters come, and critters go.....

Spending part of my childhood growing up on a farm, you would think that I would remember and accept the fact that critters come and critters go.

The Tommy Boys continued to grow and remained inseparable. Nearly a month ago, the one I called "Kinky Tom" (because of the kink in his tail) just up and disappeared and has never returned. The one I called "Sweetie Tom" decided that I was his person and is still joined at the hip with me today. He adores the kittens and makes a great babysitter cleaning them, playing with them, and snuggling with them.

If you recall, Zippy Pinhead had more kittens a couple of months ago. I have to say, these have been the cutest litter she has had so far. Every morning I go out to the barn to feed the horses, muck out stalls, etc. I have gotten the biggest kick out of watching the kittens grow. This litter is all long haired, after their father "Harry Bastard" who comes and goes when the urge hits him. :-) Anyway, once their eyes opened and they decided to get out of the spare horse tank and play, they looked just like little remote controlled fur-balls going forward, sideways, and backing up. Of course I couldn't resist naming them all and did so with the help of my friend Barb. They became: "Tiny Tim", "Norton", "Special Ed", and "Nettie". As time passed, Norton became my favorite. If anyone were to come in the barn, they would think I was the crazy cat lady as at one time I had seven cats crawling all over me!

A few days after Kinky Tom disappeared, I went out to the barn to do my morning chores and only three of the kittens were there. Norton was missing, which was unusual as Norton had also formed a bond to me and was normally the first one besides Sweetie Tom to greet me in the morning. I looked all over the barn for him and thought that maybe he had gone up into the loft. So I climbed the ladder and looked in the loft to no avail. As I was coming down the ladder, I happen to glance at the horse tank. I prayed what I saw was only hay floating in the tank, but it wasn't. It was Norton. I screamed and pulled his lifeless little body out of the tank hoping that he had just fallen in, but I was too late. I felt my heart break yet again as I carried him up to the house cradling him in my arms.

Sobbing hysterically, I called my mom. Here I am, 47 years old and still calling my mom for comfort. Forgetting that I had been trying not to "spaz out" (as my mom so lovingly puts it), I completely lost it. Finally after a while, I was calmer. I sat on the back steps talking to Mom. Still crying, I looked up and noticed that Sweetie Tom was in the arena playing with something. I called to him and he got really excited and came running towards me with whatever it was in his mouth. He had a prize and wanted to share it with me. I told my mom what was happening and as Sweetie Tom approached me, he laid his prize at my feet. I thought he had caught a mouse or bird or something. But no, my prize was a big lump of horse crap! Mom and I started laughing. Yes, I have to agree that laughter through tears is one of the best emotions.

My friend Barb came out and helped me bury Norton. We buried him under a tree in the back of the acreage. Barb decided at that point it was probably a good idea for her to take Nettie home with her. Tiny Tim and Special Ed still remain with me (they are the kittens in the pictures).

The next day I looked out only to see my horse Cowboy taking a major dump right on top of Norton's grave.

I have come to the conclusion that this is God's way of telling me that "Shit Happens", get over it and move on. :-)

Posted in loving memory of Norton

Aug. 16-Sept. 24, 2009