About this time last year, we had to have our cat put to sleep. She was old, wasn’t managing the move from our previous home to our interim stop at the Homewood Suites, and wasn’t going to live long enough to make it to the farm. So with a heavy heart – I took her to the vet. My daughter and granddaughter went with me for moral support.
The whole event, though sad, was done in a very compassionate way. We stayed with Shadow while they gave her the shot and she peacefully passed away. Arianna wanted to stay with Shadow for the process, but at five years old, I wasn’t sure what she really understood – and what she didn’t. Once Shadow was “asleep,” Arianna announced it was time to go – so we did.
Now, a year later, they have a cat that needs a barn – and we have a barn that needs a cat. Before bringing Riley to the farm, she needed to have her shots up-dated, and that has brought about a barrage of questions from the now six-year old Arianna.
Upon hearing that Riley was going to need shots, she’s been full of angst about how, exactly, does the vet know the difference between an “alive” shot and a “dead” shot, because she wouldn’t want Riley to go in for the shots to keep her alive, only to end up with the wrong shot. She apparently has given it considerable thought because we had a lengthy conversation about the alternative ways they could keep the shots separate. I suggested she ask the vet when they took Riley for her “well shots,” and she did. Apparently the “dead” shots are under lock and key, the others are in the refrigerator. That’s all she needed to know.
Now Riley has taken up residence on the farm. Chris built “cat stairs” so she can get from the storage side of the barn where her bowl of food is — to the outside, by way of the run-in shed side of the barn and she’s on the prowl to keep the mice away. She’s happy, we’re happy – and Arianna is happy that Riley only got the “alive” shot.
4 thoughts on “August – Meet Riley”
Riley looks very much like a stray that has been visiting us almost daily all summer (undoubtedly encouraged by the bowls of food we always put out for him). Our stray might be only slightly more orange, which prompted us to name him Donald, because when we look at Trump it looks like the cat is sleeping on his head. It also looks like Trump’s hair is slinking across our yard in search of snacks (chimp monks and moles (or voles, I really don’t understand the difference)).
Now you have a “proper” farm — not only all of the appropriate buildings, pastures and livestock, but a barnyard cat to keep the premises rodent-free. I’m glad everyone is happy with the arrangement!
Now you need a dog. Border Collie would be perfect.
I agree. You’ll just have to convince Chris for me!
Glad he’s a “mouser” and not a “houser” cat, if you know what I mean☺️
Your allergic cousin,