Zip and I have finally, and perhaps inevitably, crossed paths – two stubborn and opinionated males, always a formula for trouble.

As I’ve written many times, Zip and I hang out togetether in good weather on a chair near the pasture, where we observe the fascinating parade of life that is visible there – birds, deer, haws, rabbits, Herons, ducks, geese, chipmunks, even bears,  etc.

I love to sit with Maria out there for as long as we can every afternoon, usually late when we are taking a break from work.

It’s like watching a movie.

Zip and I have a great and quite loving time.

The trouble started when a chipmunk who lives in the stone wall – 20 or so directly in front of where we sleep –  gave birth to fixe or six babies.

Zip got one of two of them before I caught on, and I was horrified by the killing and the way it was done.

I believe in the right of animals to be animals, not coddled children. But I see there are limits with this cat, a Jekyll  and Hyde creature who loves with a full heart and also kills with one.

Since the first slaughter, I now bring a small object to throw when the babies come out, clearly unaware of the danger in front of them. I’ve learned how to stop the killing.

I understand that cats are only partly domesticated and barn cats like Zip are bread, trained and encouraged to kill the small things that threaten barns and feed and animals – rats, mice, etc. I accept this part of the cat world and respect it.

In a year or two, zip, a young very active male, will be older and will begin to mellow.

But I just can’t sit by and watch while Zip surprises, catches, tortures and plays with babies.

I just can’t watch it. It’s not in me.

So I’ve developed a response that so far has saved at least five, maybe six of the chipmunk babies, who tend to pop up on the stone wall looking for food and don’t seem savvy enough yet like their peers to know to run.

I pulled one right out of Zip’s mouth, grabbed him and shook him until he dropped another (Maria did the same thing) and today, I began my more sophisticated plan of bringing small stones out.

When Zip sees a chipmunk, he freezes and his tail starts flicking quickly back and forth. While sitting in my lap, he locks in and stares, alerting me to what is happening, and then hops off and slowly but very quickly makes his way to the wall where the chipmuck is engaged in eating something and paying no attention.

Once I yelled and clapped my hands and that worked, once it didn’t.

As he gets close, older chipmunks will vanish quickly into holes dug all around. The babies don’t know how to do this yet.

So I toss a small stone up ahead of Zip as he creeps closer and closer.  The stone bounces off the wall, startling the chipmunk  who dives back into whatever hole he came out of.

Zip waits five or ten minures, then comes back and jumps into my lap and I resume scratching his neck or just sitting quietly. He resumes watching even while purring.

He does look at me oddly at times, perhaps suspecting I’m destroying his fun, but so far, no hard feelings. “Listen,” I say, “you have the run of the place, but no, you can’t kill baby chipmunks or baby anything while I’m around.”

I have no idea if he has any awareness or feelings about this, he is wicked smart and may get a  sense of it. Cats can be trained.

In a few weeks, the chipmunks will be old enough to make their own decisions, and I’ll step out of it. I insist on a fair fight. I’ve seen chipmunks dodge Bud for a couple of years now.

I feel good about it. I know the sweet side of Zip, and I’m seeing the darkness on the other side. I love him no less, he is very welcome here, but there are just lines I can’t really cross.

I’m not going to sit there while he tortures and dismembers a baby chipmunk.

I have a farm, but as we all know, I’m not a farmer. There is still city blood in my veins.  Maria feels the same way.