It all began early Thanksgiving morning. The alarm which had awakened me at 4:30am to put the Turkey in the oven, was once again interrupting my repose. This time the numbers made out 6:20am. With a sigh I jumped out of my bed sliding down the ladder and tiptoed across the hallway to wake Mumsie. There was so much to do before leaving to head over to Aunt Carmen's for our Thanksgiving feast, and one of those items was me heading out into the cold to go milk Eleanor the Cow.
Eleanor is not our cow, but the people she belongs to don't want her milk so we had taken on the responsibility with some friends of milking her. She lives about 20 minutes away, so I spent my drive coming up with at least 50 things I was thankful for. Once arrived I numbly went through the motions of beginning the chores, and soon the "swish swish" of milk hitting my pot serenaded my ears. The many barn cats were gathered around me waiting for some milk, and I barely noticed that one of the younger friendlier cats was missing. All was going well, until without any warning, Eleanor released a dump of manure, barely giving me time to yank the pot to safety. Disgusted, but trying not to lose my thankful spirit, I cleaned up, then once again sat down to resume my milking. Sploosh! Eleanor's muddy foot landed in my milk bucket. I stared blankly at the scene as she pulled back her foot tipping the pot and sending a river of milk past me and onto the dirt floor. In a split second the cats had descended on the river, purring their thankfulness and rejoicing in this unexpected feast. Silently fuming I stood up, endeavoring to contain my boiling temper, "What more could go wrong?" I asked hopelessly! At that moment Eleanor raised her tail and flooded the area with pee. Stunned, I watched the cats jerk back, shocked that their Thanksgiving had just turned into April Fools. I alternated between wanting to smack the cow (hard), scream, cry, or laugh.
I went to let out Eleanor, and tried to lead her out of the barn (not too gently I'm afraid) and as I reached the barn entrance, around the corner came a cat. Louis, the young, sweet, friendly cat I had missed. And he was hopping on three legs. Quickly I scooped him up, and felt his leg, which resulted in him letting out a pitiful cry. Not sure what was wrong I rushed him to the house to show his owners. Unfortunately, they were leaving on vacation that day, and one of their indoor dogs was a known cat-killer, so all I could do was take Louis back to the barn and make him as comfortable as possible under some stairs with a bowl of milk.
Later that day, I told Faith about my escapade, and about Louis. She was going to milk the next morning, and promised to check on him. Lo and behold, I received a call from Faith that morning when I was at the horse barn where I work. Louis was coming home, at least for a few days, while his family was gone, and or until his broken back leg healed.
And so it was, that the family who had never owned a cat in their entire lives, let alone an indoor cat, came to have this handsome black and white barn cat ensconced in their living room.
Louis, who we call Louis Armstrong for short (makes no sense, I know:P) made himself quite at home, and is truly one of the best behaved, gentle natured cats I know! We can't keep Louis indefinitely (he really needs to be outdoors, and is already getting cabin fever) but we will be keeping him until he heals, at which time we hope to find this big loveable, purry, sweet cat a good home!