Note: I never had so many people from different places plead with me to take photos of Zip. I don’t need persuasion; he was made for motion pictures. This is the story of our lovely time together, listening to the winds in a storm.
It was windy and wet Wednesday night; it sounded like a freight train was next door or next to the farmhouse.
Zip missed his afternoon meeting with me, and I could hardly blame him, but after it got dark (Maria was at belly dancing class). I went outside and ensured the donkeys and sheep were warm and dry in the Pole Barn, whether the hens were in their roost, and whether Zip was comfortable and in shelter.
The sheep and donkeys were all dry and cozy bunched together; the hens had all jumped up into the roost, and I sealed them in.
I had a few cat treats to give Zip. I do this every night; he usually finds me quickly, and I rarely have to look for him. The wind was fearsome, but it was pretty warm. He responds quickly when I call his name, even from the deep marsh. Not Wednesday night.
We only plugin Zip’s heated cat house when it gets freezing or below. It hasn’t been on for days, but he still likes to sleep there sometimes. Barring a cold weather streak, it won’t be turned on again for months, probably in October or November. I don’t think he likes the warmth of the cat house floor. It might get too warm for an outdoor cat.
He loves roaming in the cold and the snow. There is little of either now. And no matter when I touch his coat, the fur is warm. Like our other barn cats, he loves patrolling the barn and grounds at night. He’s good at it—no mice, rats, or pigeons.
Zip is savvy; he has explored every inch of the farm, the barn, and the Pole Barn. All the animals have taken him in; he can sleep, lie, and explore wherever he wants. He sleeps in the pole barn more often than we know. The donkeys will protect him if need be.
Zip has three cat suites (I call them suites) to sleep in and explore. Thanks to Maria, all are equipped with blankets and places to escape the rain, wind, or cold. He has two heated water bowls that are refreshed every day. The barn is always dry, no matter what’s going on outside. So are the upper floors of the woodshed, a heaven made for cats.
He and I get together, weather permitting, once in the morning and once in the late afternoon if we are not too busy. Zip is always very busy, roaming in the pasture, marsh, or woods behind the house. But we always make time for each other.
Bud is napping on the back porch at noon on Sunday.
In mid-day, Zip likes to lie on the back porch, especially when the sun is up; he curls up and sleeps in a wicker chair with blankets washed and dried several times a week.
Sometimes early in the morning, I see him coming out of the wood-sheet upper floors; there are boxes stuffed with old towels and blankets. Flo insisted on sleeping there her whole life up until she got sick and died. Minnie died soon after Flo.
Sometimes, when it was cold, and even when it wasn’t, Zip slept in the heatable cat house in the barn.
That’s where the mice and moles and rats and bats come out. Zip has buried a warm and secure hole between the hay bales, always warm, no matter the temperature outside. We can see from the hole widening of the little tunnel that he likes it there.
Zip has another life in the barn, which Maria and I will never see. That’s one of the things I love about the mystique of the barn cats; they have their own mystical and magical lives at night. No humans are welcome.
I picture them dancing in the loft. We find pieces of dead mice, rats, and rodents in a treasure chest he uses to deposit his kills. We take it out regularly and dump it in the marsh.
Once in a while, Zip sleeps or naps on the front porch, where Minnie and Flo napped. He loves peering in the window, staring at me, then sleeping. Amazon drivers are the only thing that scares or gets him to hide.
Most city people assume that Zip’s curiousity about us means he wants to come inside, but Zip has never lived inside a house and shows no interest. Animal rights people love to write nasty messages about it, and I love to delete them. A case of divergent philophies that will never see eye to eye, which is a shame for animals.
I feel strongly that it’s not my place to tell other people what to do or criticize them for their choices. I dislike people who believe it is their right to do that. So many of them are plain obnoxious and offensive or just dumb.
I never tell others what to do; I have enough trouble figuring that out for myself. Social media erodes privacy, freedom of choice, honest writing, manners, and civility. I’m learning how to stick to all five.
I’m on the way.
I believe in fighting for barn cats to live the lives they are meant to live. Some people don’t get it. Some people do. That’s life.
We are unanimous: Zip, Maria, and I are not interested in him entering the farmhouse. Bud would love to stalk him in the house and drive us nuts. Zip would wreak havoc.
Zip often goes out to hunt at night and rests or naps in the morning.
Farm people know this is the best thing for them, barn cats especially. Our vet says that fed and vaccinated barn cats live longer than indoor cats. It’s a life full of exercise, love, stimulation, and natural food. Zip gets regular checkups as well as all of the recommended shots.
The good ones seem to know to stay away from roads. They have everything they want at their finger (claw) tips. Zip has never gone near the road. He is way too bright.
Zip has also got a tick collar on again. When it’s more than 36 degrees, the ticks come out. There are none on him. We check every day.
I found Zip after going into the barn and calling his name. He was, as always, Mr.Cool. He was out curled up next to one of the sheep; he rushed over to get his treat and then went back into the barn. The wind makes the donkeys nervous, but it never bothers Zip. Neither does the snow, which makes for great rolling and hunting.
The wind worsened, and I went for another animal check before Maria arrived Wednesday night. Zip was lying on top of the heated (not that night) cat house.
We had a time together that I will cherish, truly.
I sat in a rocking chair in the barn, and he hopped up on my stomach and chest. We had the most excellent time sitting together and rocking back and forth while I stroked him, and we listened to the sound of rain on the roof and the roaring wind.
Sitting with Zip while the wind raged a few feet away felt beautiful. I hope to do it again in every storm.
Zip has transformed life here at the farm; I am enjoying watching him live his life and fit in like a puzzle piece.
It feels like he was born hair, not adopted.
I’ll make a note to sit outside with him when the winds come. Once again, I need to find out who was checking on who.
