Burdenofglory’s Weblog

I can’t say no to stray cats. Several have come peering through our window on some cold winter evening, seemingly during rather blizzard-like weather. First the kids are horrified, as I try to rationalize that animals outside know how to take care of themselves. But the youngest kids are never convinced, and deep down, under my unfeeling facade, I know I’m not either.

When we first moved out to our acreage, Kelli tried to give me some chickens or some such poultry. She talked about how rewarding they were, that we could show them at 4-H, etc. Other people asked if we were getting a horse. I looked at them like they were crazy. I had a 6, 3, and 1 year old when we moved. Did I look like I needed more work?

Now we have plenty of livestock. A 90-pound yellow lab named Jake, a 15-pound inside cat named Clooney, and an lithe outside cat named Fluffy.

Clooney showed up about 3 years ago. We heard pitiful meowing behind the shop once in a while, then one day saw the object: an emaciated, pathetic, starving, half-grown tomcat. The girls put the previous cat’s food out on the front steps, and waited. He was shy at first, but before long acted like we were long lost family. That wasn’t enough. They brought him in to sit on their laps by the door. Soon it was further into the interior of the house. I told them to get that wormy thing out of here! Their eyes pleaded daily. Finally, I loaded him up into the previous cats’ cat carrier, and took him to the vet for domestic treatment. Since then, he has plumped up, to put it mildly, and pretty much thinks he is the boss, when Marcus isn’t in the house.

Fluffy showed up in the dead of winter last year. He was way too friendly at first, and looked fed, so I knew he must only be lost. But he didn’t leave. Sometimes he would go carousing a couple nights, but he was always back. Soon the food was set out. The pleading started. I said NO MORE INDOOR CATS. Then the heating pad was plugged in, and shelter made for frigid winter nights. Towards the end of the winter, I went to TSC(Tractor Supply Company) to purchase an actual outdoor heated pad for critters.

Last spring our neighbor, Kevin, came to chat. He looked at Fluffy and said, “Hi, Lucky.”

Maddie was terrified that Kevin might retrieve his cat. But Kevin only told us Lucky’s story. Kevin’s friend in town found Lucky after their son’s baseball game. He was in a pretty bad way. They took him to the vet and $500 later, Lucky was cured. They took him home, but realized the dog hated him. They called up Kevin and asked if Lucky could come live with him.

Kevin has 11 other cats, and soon Lucky was getting beat up by other tomcats. Lucky decided he liked our territory better. I also know this because I’ve heard him defending it at 4:00 in the morning under my window. I went outside and told the other cat to “shoo,” to no effect. I tried a few pebbles, then finally a small rock aimed at the intruder. That broke the stand off and Lucky chased him back to the swingset. I didn’t care – Lucky was on his own if he was out of earshot of my bedroom. So much for a pathetic stray.

There are many more stories about Chrysanthemum, who met her untimely demise on Ashley’s birthday; Julia, who was an equal-opportunity biter; and Henry, who used to chase Jake in the back yard. But I will save those stories for later. For now it is enough to know that I am compelled to keep stray cats, but I think that compulsion is exerted from a 12-year old and 8-year old, mostly.

Saturday I canned my second double batch of apricot jam. I’m not sure why. I’m just compelled to do it. When I got the postcard telling me the fruit order needed to be in, I obediently ordered, picked it up at the assigned time, remembered to buy the sugar, canning lids, and pectin, and made it.

I called my friend while stirring the apricots, and asked her why I have to make jam. She said there is just something in us that makes us do certain things, even though they seem mad if we think about them, or especially when others think about them. She was compelled to shop during Lemon Days at Westfield. I was not. She added that she expected some jam.

I started questioning why I am compelled to do things a few years ago, when Kristi stopped making(and sharing) delectable goodies at Christmas. I asked her what was up with no loaded Christmas plate this year? She said making goodies at Christmas was a lot of work, and made the season even more busy. It also took time from her kids(they were little and not too helpful at the time). She determined the only reason she made candy during Christmas was because it was what her mother did. That wasn’t a good enough reason.

Since then I’ve wondered why I plant such a large garden, can vast quantities of tomatoes, pick and freeze 8 quarts of cherries, and 11 quarts of beans. I started with good reasons, but I’m not sure they all hold water anymore. I just can’t help it. Anyone need some jam?