Zip is among the most fascinating animals I’ve encountered, including Orson, Simon, Red, and Rose. Watching him has been an educational experience. When he arrived, he seemed aggressive and dominant, chasing off the chickens, beating up on Zinnia, hissing at Fate, and avoiding the donkeys and the sheep.
That has all changed. With the possible exception of Fate, he has charmed and befriended almost every animal on the farm, turning aggression into affection and trust. He still doesn’t take any guff from anybody, but every day I see him winning over a new friend – Zinnia, Lulu, Fanny, and most recently, Asher, our biggest wether, Asher.
I was in the pasture this morning taking pictures, and I felt Zip run up and run back and forth on my pants. He likes to follow me into the pasture and visit the donkeys or one of the sheep. Today, Asher came over, as he always does when he sees Zip, and the two touched noses, and Zip licked Asher on the side of his face.
My dogs have yet to do that with Asher, although Zinnia is at ease around donkeys and sheep. And Zip has won her over. They kiss one another in the morning.
( I call these morning sun photos “sunscapes.”
I’m still getting messages from people who pretend to be animal rights advocates suggesting that Maria and I are cruel for not letting Zip, a barn cat, into the house at night. Real cat lovers know this is the best gift you can give a barn cat, but I have realized that many “animal rights” advocates mostly seem to live alone in cities and know nothing about cats, dogs, or any other animal.
I’m generalizing, of course; I know that many animal rights people, including me, love animals and are fighting hard to keep them in our world and working with humans; this is their best chance of surviving in a hostile and uncaring world. And some hide behind the love of animals to hate people.
If I ever get rich, which is becoming increasingly dubious, I’d love to start an animal rights group that knows the history of animals and people and what animals are really like. In my dream, we can all work to keep them with us rather than away from us or trapped with the worst of us. It’s tragic for this movement to be hating and dividing people; we have enough politicians who are doing that.
One of these sad people called the police claiming I was abusing poor Zip (I would love to be abused like Zip, I told Maria, but I don’t see that happening either.)
I became instant friends with the officer who came; he fell in love with Zip, and we laughed together. It’s the only way to deal with it. A colleague asked me if she could meet Zip with her daughter. Sure. Zip already loves most visitors.
We exchanged cat pictures the next day. Zip, no fool, jumped into his lap. “We have to come,” he said apologetically. No apologies are necessary; he was doing his job. And it’s not an easy job.
The officer is returning with a grandson to give carrots to the donkeys. He was excited to see and explore Zip’s heated cat house in the barn.
I enjoy life in part because it is always exciting and challenging, and I hope I always remember to give thanks for that.
I get the shivers when I think I could have ended up cooped in an apartment in New York City, Chicago, or Dallas, sending nasty messages to people I know nothing about. That would be my version of an awful way to spend my life.
The messages are quieting down; it’s no fun being dumb and cruel. It is meaningful to delete them rather than argue with them. This was a revelation.
Maria and I are very grateful for Zip, a seed of happiness; the spirits thought of us when we found him.
Or, as the cat people say, when he found us. I get a lot of pleasure watching him charm the residents of Bedlam Farm, one at a time, every day of the week. I was the first one to fall for him.
