Saturday, May 28, 2011

A Tribute to Barn Catz.

 As many horse people know, a barn cat is of the utmost importance in ones' barn. They hunt for mice, and sometimes, rats, they help keep birds from nesting in the barn rafters, and they're generally good company to anyone who comes along . These girls are my barn catz.... Moxie , the tabby , and Kiisa, the calico. They were apartment raised and never felt fresh air until they came here to live. They're superior mousers, and keep us all but 'mice free'. They're polite to those humans who come here, and keep a close eye on everything.

Below is Moxie- she is a little timid ,but once you are her friend, it's forever   ( keep reading)

Moxie takin' it easy in the shade.

Kiisa sleeping

  Kiisa again- she Loves boxes to sleep in

Lounging in the barn aisle after breakfast- Kiisa

Kiisa heading out to the pasture...and mice :)

Doing what she does best-  watching the activities at the barn

I found this video on youtube, and thought to share it with you. This is for all those wonderful barn cats- especially the two who live here- Kiisa and Moxie. Thanks for the good times, girls.

enjoy, and big thanks to MaryAnne Kennedy for creating it !
 And a cute poem by Sue Millard about MICE.

The mice had been out drinking.
Their tails wove in and out.
They staggered up the piping,
and fell off down the spout.
They reached the airing-cupboard
and nested in the sheets,
they peed upon the bedspreads,
on towels wiped their feets.
Then leaving several pellets
of shit upon shelves (upper)
they hiccuped, belched and farted
and went to look for supper,
for as you know when drinking,
though lager fills your belly,
it also makes you feel as though
you'd eat a docker's welly!
They fancied Ruby Murray,
but nothing could they find,
for in a decent bathroom
a curry's naught but wi-ind.
So gnashing sharp incisors
and scraping needled paws,
they set about a drunken search
to find that bedtime course.
And when I rose at seven,
and flicked electric power
to heat the flowing water
and give a nice hot shower,
I found the mice had feasted
behind the cupboard door.
They'd shredded paper wrappings
and dropped them on the floor:
they'd punctured all the toothpaste
and then to top their tope
they'd guzzled anti-frizz shampoo
and eaten half the soap.
Then finally, hung over,
they'd made themselves at home

and sprawling bloated fast asleep
were snoring shaving foam.

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