Minnie the barn cat is my Bedlam Farm Animal Of The Year. A once-feral kitten I adopted six years ago who hid in the barn at Bedlam Farm for months, even years, she emerged as a gentle, friendly and sometimes incautious cat. She loved to be with Winston the rooster, she hung out with chickens, she tried to rub against Simon once too often and nearly got stomped.

I was struck by Minnie’s friendship with Winston, she sat by him for days as he lay dying. I never connected with Minnie, she always seemed hapless and needy to me, overshadowed by the ferocious and independent Mother, a barn cat I did connect with who vanished after a few days at our new farm. Minnie adapted well to the new farm, I didn’t see too much of her, Maria had more of a connection to her than I did.

A few months ago, Minnie was attacked by an animal outside the farmhouse in the middle of the night – we were awakened by the noise – and later in the day we found Minnie (she was named after my grandmother) hiding by the hay bales, one of her rear legs mangled. The vet said she could be euthanized or have surgery or have the leg amputated. It didn’t seem to me to be Minnie’s time, Maria agreed and we chose the amputation. Minnie spends cold days and evenings in the farmhouse now, she has had a long tough road to mobility and recovery, it is hard to see her hobbling around, I’m not sure we made the right decision to amputate rather than put her down. Barn cats usually don’t get expensive operations.

I love barn cats and respect their way of life, I cherish their independence and savvy ways. I was never inclined to bring them inside. Now Minnie spends half of her life inside, Flo too.

I admire her determination, she gets around, she is quite  vocal when she is hungry or wants to go somewhere. I thought of Red as the animal of the year – he is now a therapy dog – but Red gets plenty of attention and Minnie, until recently, has gotten little.  I thought of Frieda too, but she just got a book and Simon is getting his. Minnie will not be a book. She does deserve some recognition for hanging in there. She is a second chance cat, the vet said three-legged cats are inspirational, and Minnie is surely that. When I see her dozing on the couch, finding the warm spot in the sun, it lifts my heart and speaks to me of compassion.

Minnie has never had an easy life, and the irony is her lost leg has brought her inside, where I think she always wanted to be.