Missives from the Farm

It’s rare that the population of our farm increases by design. Instead, animals seem to find their way to us. We have some vague rules: make sure that the needs, wellbeing and happiness of the existing pets aren’t negatively impacted by an addition, and in general, try to keep the total under twenty. Otherwise our doors are usually open. 

We are huge advocates for animal shelters, and almost always get our dogs that way. Sweetheart Molly, who we thought was a mutt until we saw a picture of a purebred Kuvasz and couldn’t believe our eyes, was our number one pound success story. Elinor the cat had gained some local celebrity after getting returned to a local shelter by three families in a row. They placed a special ad to see if anyone would be willing to take the problem-cat permanently. Granted, she could be cranky, but all in all she fit right into our menagerie, napping on windowsills, stomping over newspapers mid-read, and indulging in a daily dirt bath.

Posters tend to be another reliable pet delivery system. Mom couldn’t stop thinking about a sheet at the grocery for a dog needing a new home, and soon enough we gained a miniature pincer. About ten years ago, our cat Pepper trotted through the back pasture, into the woods, and didn’t come back for weeks. Right away we put up posters around town with his description, and even after he ambled back up the driveway and the flyers came down people still dropped off unwanted cats vaguely resembling him. One of the Pepper-dopplegangers is still around today, our current queen bee, Lily.

More often we acquire new pets when we see an animal in distress and just can’t walk away. Finn trotted out of the bushes to nuzzle against my sister at a gas station, and the guy at the counter said someone had dumped him there a few days before. The finch and parakeet (the birds never seem to get proper names) started hanging around a local show barn where my sister had riding lessons. When winter rolled in and the birds didn’t fly south, we caught them and stowed them in a cat-free room. Abandoned twin kittens Thomas and Cordelia came home with my brother from a visit with a friend. As the youngest animals we’ve had in my whole life (it’s usually the elderly that need a home) we all fell in love with them instantly. When we found out they were positive for feline leukemia, an incurably defective immune system, we agonized over whether we could keep them without endangering our other cats. With the approval of our vet they live quarantined to three rooms of the house, and two years later they’re as healthy and happy as normal cats (and our other kitties have not been contaminated).  

I think my favorite moments are when the animals find their own way to us. One afternoon I was walking past the garage and a little face popped out of our trash can, then issued a meow that sounded like a spoon stuck in a garbage disposal. (I nearly fell over in surprise.) That’s how we got Abigail, a neighbor’s cat on a starvation diet to ‘fix’ her diabetes, ‘vet’s orders’ - the owner didn’t put up a fight when we insisted she would be staying with us. Most recently, we set up the have-a-heart trap in our barn’s spare stall to relocate a troublesome groundhog and inadvertently trapped a cat instead: Manuela, very shy but a world-champ eater.