I have always been fascinated by barn cats, they are among the animals I most admire, they are wondrously smart, agile and independent creatures, one of the very few animals around human beings who live their own mysterious and free lives, unfettered by our emotionalizing, projections and fear. Flo has always lived the life of the barn cat, she lived under our front porch and in our woodshed for months, even a year or so, before we even saw her. The vet say she is about three years old, so she has not been around her for long.

She is a grounded animal, her campaign to get fed and noticed was masterfully intelligent and deliberate, no missteps. She has a sense of herself, a regal kind of poise and dignity that is known to cat lovers (new to me.) She is wary of dogs, especially Frieda, who she simply does not trust, and tolerates Red and Lenore, she has smacked both of them on the nose when they get too close, she does not let Frieda get too close.

This week, a serious storm hit with frigid temperatures and we decided to let Flo inside. Flo has noticed that Minnie has come in, she has been watching the back door, looking in the windows at me, meeting me in the woodshed, sending animal signals to me.

When I brought her in, she looked at Frieda and jumped up on the table. Frieda stares at the cat’s, she bears watching, they are watching her. I put Flo on one of Maria’s quilts and she settled, and then she found the cat stand I bought hurriedly from Amazon and she hopped up there, it is her throne, her safe place. I sat down to read last night and Flo appeared by my side, crawled into my lap and went to sleep. We watched a late movie, and I had a cat in my lap. I liked it, she is soft and warm, it is soothing to stroke a cat. We went upstairs, she spent the night downstairs with Minnie, exploring the house, finding the litter box in the pantry, drinking water. Because it is snowing again and it is so cold, Flo and  Minnie are staying inside the farmhouse today until it warms up a bit.

Flo and Minnie are different. Flo is quiet, quite  reserved, she is still for long periods, she seems to grasp signals and commands, if you hold your hand up and say “stop,” she backs off and leaves you alone. That’s important to me, I need space. Maria says Flo is smitten with me, and me with her. There is something to that. Flo’s first night went very well, she looks as if she grew up in the farmhouse.

Flo is uncomfortable around Frieda, she jumps up on the dining room table. Frieda is good with animals once she knows they live here and are not intruding, but there is also something about Frieda that suggestions caution. She is a hunter, with lots of prey drive. Flo has come a long way in her life, in my years at Bedlam Farm, the barn cats never once came into the house, no matter the weather. Maybe I have changed, but then again, maybe Flo has changed me.