Posts Tagged With: ugly kitty

Killer Instincts

Churned earth mingled with scattered feathers. The cage moved as futile fingers clawed at the trap door.

I caught a killer.

I rejoiced–and mourned.

This thing, this animal, this fluff-ball, killed three babies. Three tiny chickens. He killed them and ate them.

Trudie and I gathered the remaining supplies for the horse show, and we left.

Our horses performed well for their experience levels. Sidney needed to be led during his classes for safety reasons. He’s never been to a “real” horse show before, so he had no idea how to act or feel.

Honey’s shown once before. Last time she won two seventh places. This time she won a third (out of three horses–but she listened well!) and two fifth-place ribbons. They’re hanging in the tack room, along with Trudie’s ribbon from a previous horse show.

Suzi Q’s owner and Sidney’s owner came to visit, and both were exceedingly helpful. They held horses and came back to Firefly Farm when we realized we’d left behind Sidney’s bridle (oh-so-important!) and then needed a different saddle. They also took photos.

Once everyone loaded back up and we traveled back to the barn, I remembered.

The caged killer.

He curled up harmlessly at one end of the wire jail and peered at me with soft black eyes. His ringed tail wrapped around a chubby body, his masked face innocent.

Sometime soon, I’ll drive the killer to meet an ugly kitty.

Categories: Chickens, Horse Show, Horses, Ponies | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Ugly Kitty part 2

I gazed down upon him, hatchet in hand, waiting for him to attack. His movement would be my cue to deal the death blow.

My inner Katniss Everdeen yelled, “Kill him! Skin him and wear his pelt as a hat!”

I waited.

And waited.

Our standoff lasted forever–or at least five minutes.

“This will be epic,” my inner twelve year-old said. “I’m going to take on the oppossum and win this time. No more sending him next door to oppossum heaven. I’m going to bloody this hatchet and win against my inner pacifist and I’ll take care of this ‘possum so he never ever ever comes back.”

(My inner twelve year-old enjoyed Gary Paulson books. Especially Hatchet.)

The adult me said, “I can grab the live trap and fill it with kitty food and he’ll get trapped and I can go on with my day.”

The adult me panicked.

“Then what?” She asked. “What will I do with this oppossum? I can’t keep sending them next door to Mike. I’m sure he already believes me to be a Wuss (with a capital W.) The ponies are babied here and we treat them more like kids than livestock (because I firmly believe horses are not livestock. They’re pets and/or super-sized furbabies.)

“So what then, genius?”

My inner twelve-year old wavered. Katniss pushed for a swift death. The adult me begged for guidance.

They all got together and made a decision.

“We’re gonna poke him with the hatchet!” they squealed in glee. “If he bites it, we’ll know he’s really a mean oppossum and we should definitely kill him.”

My tentative poke on his gumline turned into a stroke along his back. He hissed, then latched his gaze on to me.

“Don’t kill me,” his hiss said. “Don’t kill me. I have ten little oppossum babies at home I need to feed.”

I sighed in defeat.

I don’t live in a post-apocalyptic world. I don’t have to fight twenty-three other tributes to live. My airplane didn’t crash in the middle of the wilderness, killing off the pilot and leaving me alone to fight nature.

I love nature.

The cage it is.

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The Ugly Kitty

I knew there must be another heated water bucket.

I bought one for Melody when we boarded at Arrowhead Farm, and it didn’t miraculously melt into the ground–so I simply needed to search hard enough to find it. Our small shed in front of the barn either held the bucket or it would never be found.

I turned things over, cleaned out a space, and discovered a Rubbermaid container in a corner. I pulled the large plastic tub out, and noticed it appeared remarkably heavy for an item of its size. I lifted it up, and joy of joys–there lay the bucket. It held a great deal of leaves, pine needles, hay, and other random debris, but I’d found it.

I lifted the bucket out of the container and tipped the leaves out into the Rubbermaid container, intending to burn them later. Instead, two eyes stared up at me.

Either I had a very ugly kitty hiding in the bucket of leaves, or an opossum took up residence.

I gave a very girly, high-pitched scream, then grabbed a container of manure to set on top of the initial container. In my head I heard Giles Corey gasp “More Weight.” I couldn’t leave him like that. I lifted the manure bucket off the opossum’s new digs, and left him alone.

When I came back, he escaped, most likely back to the shed. I couldn’t kill him, nor could I let him stay there. I couldn’t.

I thought about the opossum’s food source, and decided he must enjoy dry cat food. I put some inside a live trap and left it overnight.

In the morning, I discovered that the “ugly kitty” trapped himself.

I don’t hurt animals. I avoid it at all costs. In my hands, I held the life of this so-ugly-he’s-cute animal, and couldn’t imagine killing it in cold blood. I couldn’t even think how to try. I don’t own a gun (the husband won’t let me–it falls under his “Nothing that could rip off and/or injure a limb” category) so the fast-and-painless option simply didn’t exist.

Therefore, I brought the “ugly kitty” to Mike next door. He promised that he’d give the opossum a “heavenly experience” at his farm.

This morning, he returned an empty live trap.

Now, all the stalls have working heated buckets for the winter. The ponies will have enough water. The kitties, too, will not be thirsty. However, outside animals are not welcome when they don’t pull their own weight. They’ll be sent next door to Mike.

(I did not harm any animals in the making of this post.)

Categories: Firefly Farm | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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