Not just a barn cat

On his examination report card from the veterinarian, his name was noted as "Barn cat."

On the invoice record when I paid for his euthanasia, he was simply known as "Stray Cat."

But he wasn't a stray and he was so much more than 'just' a barn cat. He was our Chris, my constant barnyard companion, and now he's gone.

We found him this afternoon about 10 feet away from the road. He was curled up and alert but his hind legs weren't working well and he was covering in slug goo. Fearing the worst but hoping for the best, I rushed him to the vet. Her face told me what I already knew before she gave me her prognosis: his back was broken. Some driver had hit him and failed to stop. And it's not like ours is a busy road.

As the vet talked about x-rays and neurologists and surgery and rehabilitation options, this massive surge of sadness opened up in me. Tears streamed down my face and dripped off my nose as I hung my head and said, "no."

"There's a third option," she said. I nodded.

During the time it took for the sedation to take effect before the final injection -- about 15 minutes -- I rubbed Chris and thanked him for all the great memories.

He was supposed to be an unsocialized barn cat, but he was never very good at that job.

He'd get locked in the hayloft, caught frogs instead of barn mice, got stuck in trees and was relentlessly bullied by the rooster. His meow was almost inaudible and he always needed a piggyback to the barn whenever it snowed, as he didn't like getting his feet wet.

But he was great at many things: snoozing on our deck, either underneath the hammock or on one of the kid's chairs, playing tag with the dog and befriending our other barn cat Gracie who before Chris, was too scared to leave the rafters. He napped under the bird feeders, paddled in the ponds and slept with the goats at night. The moment you stood still, he'd wind himself between your legs, arching his back, simply begging to be petted and loved. While his meow was but a squeak, his purr rivaled that of a lion.

He'd escort the kids to the school bus in the morning and pick them up at the end of the day. He was the first face I'd meet in the barn in the morning and as darkness fell, he'd wait at the front door of the house to walk back with me.

He was just a barn cat, but his absence leaves a huge hole at our farm.

He was just a barn cat, but already we miss him terribly.

Still here

Hi, folks. Sorry to be out of touch for so long. I started a new job last week and it's been crazy. I'm still working from home and it's part-time but as with all new jobs, it's taking up a lot of hours. Of course I'm still juggling kids home for summer vacation, farm animals, the garden, chores etc. and when faced with the choice between blogging and sleep, my bed wins every time!

But I so miss blogging and sharing and reading about everyone else's adventures, so I'll be back soon.

In the meantime, here's a snapshot of the view from my madcap life right now.


What, doesn't everyone have a treefrog crawling around their office window?

More strawberries!

Since Jack missed out on last week's picking adventure, we decided that for their first day of summer vacation the three of us would celebrate by going back to the strawberry farm. There is only a week of strawberry season left -- if that -- and the next few days are silly busy with Canada Day celebrations, a day trip to a friend's cottage and then a weekend of fishing with dad, his brother and the cousins.

And yes, I'm really looking forward to getting back to our slower pace of living next week.

What I love about trips like this is the opportunity to observe how different my kids are in the same situation and how their individual personalities and styles-of-being manifest.

Jack took a somewhat relaxed attitude towards picking, being completely at ease working close to the earth.

Ella, on the other hand, who's already done this picking thing before, decided that today would be a day of whirly-girly silliness. No armed picking? No problem. Goofy girl.


When placed in a new situation, Jack has always been my quiet observer; watching, assimilating information and then taking careful, purposeful action. I could see this today as he gently picked through the strawberry plants, looking for the "ruby red" berries, and asking several times, "Is this one okay, mum?"

Of course, it didn't take him long to get the hang of picking and he quickly filled his allotted basket with "nature's candy," as he called it.

Unfortunately, Ella's whirly-girly silliness quickly got a bit out of hand. Perhaps I'm a bit of a stickler here but a u-pick farm, in my humble opinion, is not a playground (or a race track or a hurdle course) and the picking area should be respected as a source of our food and of a farmer's livelihood. Ella didn't agree with my assessment and quickly deteriorated into a whiny, obstinate little creature.
Please tell me I'm not the only parent to ever order a time-out at a u-pick.

Thankfully, the sulkiness didn't last long and once again I had a crew of happy pickers.

It's a good thing too because we had a lot of strawberries to pick today!

Not a bad harvest -- just over 20 lbs.

Now all I need is an extra set of hands, or two, to help me make another three batches of jam. And then we need to prepare the berries for the freezer and the dehydrator and then we can make some fruit leather and...
What do you mean you're off duty? What do you think this is... summer vacation or something?
Oh, right.