About seven weeks ago, underneath the steps that lead to our garage, our only remaining barn cat gave birth to a small litter of only three kittens. Grizz, my cow dog (and I use that term loosely), grabbed the first one and took it outside to "play." Even though Grizz was as gentle as a 75 lb. dog could be with a minute-old kitten, I doubt the little feline could have lasted ten minutes. That left the momma cat with only two.
Two weeks ago, I noticed only one kitten remaining. I asked Grizz if he was responsible, but he wasn't talking. In his defense, the dog didn't seem ashamed or guilty, so I had to believe him. I did, however, think that I smelled a little cat on his breath as we were discussing the declining cat population at the Crownover ranch.
Last week, as I was exiting through the garage to begin my daily routine, I heard the old momma cat meowing repeatedly, but with no response. I glanced at Grizz and, once again, he acted as innocent as a newborn. I was disappointed because I really do like a few cats around to keep down the rodent population at the barn.
My wife had already left for work and I was certainly dreading breaking the news to her. About 11 A.M., Judy called to tell me the craziest thing I've heard this year.
That morning, one of her friends had dropped by her office and asked if she had locked a cat in her car. She replied that she had not, but the friend insisted that there was a constant meowing coming from the vicinity of her car. Upon close inspection, Judy and her friend discovered the six-week old kitten sitting on the air-dam in the front end of her car. It was scared to death, but completely unharmed.
Judy had driven 20 miles on the interstate, plus another 10 stops around town running errands before parking at her office. Plus, anyone that knows my wife can confirm that she rarely drives less than 80 MPH on the interstate, and is just as well-known for sliding to a stop at red lights before peeling out when they turn green. I can sympathize with the cat, because I get nauseous riding with her myself – and I have my seatbelt fastened!
Judy and her co-workers provided plenty of milk and attention to the little kitten the rest of the day at the office before bringing the tiny fur-ball home to the momma cat that evening. The entire next day, the kitten lay cradled underneath her mother, as if to confirm that she would never explore the underside of a car again. Considering her most recent adventure, it's quite unlikely she will ever want to see the underside of a car again, much less ride inside.
Grizz, on the other hand, as well as most farm dogs I've been around, can't wait to jump in the bed of the truck and go off to the next big adventure. The wind blowing in his face and his eager anticipation of working another set of cows keeps him begging to "load up" every time the truck starts.
Right now, Grizz is just happy that he is no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of kitten No. 3; being a wise old farm dog, I expect old Grizz knew all along what I now believe to be true: Baby kitten No. 3 went all in and made a wager with all nine lives; a bet very few could win… she took a ride with my wife.
Jerry Crownover farms in Lawrence County. He is a former professor of Agriculture Education at Missouri State University, and is an author and professional speaker. To contact Jerry, go to www.ozarksfn.com and click on 'Contact Us.'
