Don’t Ask for Things You Really Don’t Need

By Mindy and the Dreamy One

POV Mindy: I’m not a cat person.

Shawn doesn’t believe me. He was born in our barndominium and has been held and socialized since birth, which means he has no concept of personal space and has no qualms about climbing onto people’s shoulders.

Shawn isn’t the whole story, though. He’s what can happen when a kid prays for a cat. Here’s the Dreamy One, now age 14, on the lesson she learned the hard way.

Lessons Learned, by the Dreamy One

I would like to say that I have learned some big, deep, emotional lessons from moving to the farm. But I haven’t. I’ve learned lots of little lessons, though. The most annoying one is “don’t ask for things you REALLY don’t need.”

First it was the goats. We were at our first-ever livestock auction, and my little sister and I felt “sorry” for these two little dwarf goats in the first lot. So our dad bought them. And we took them home in the trunk of our Nissan.

Then it was Duncan, the miniature horse. Again we were at a livestock auction. I found this one horse that was very sweet, and being the attention seeker that I was, I made my family stand by that horse forever while I petted it. Then my little sister found a pen full of miniature horses. One of them was SUPER sweet. His name was Fabio. There was another one close to him who was kind of a stinker. His name was Duncan, as in “Dunkin’ Donuts,” because he used to be a party pony and once ate a whole dozen of the birthday donuts while no one was looking.

Eventually we went home, and my little sister was pouting because she had fallen in love with Fabio and we didn’t get him. So when we got home she took a shower and “cried” just loud enough for everyone outside the bathroom to hear, and my parents gave in and got the fat little horse the next day. Only we found out later it wasn’t Fabio, it was Duncan. Oh, and did I mention that we didn’t get my horse? (Maybe I should have cried in the shower.)

The last example is the story of our cats. Right after we moved to the farm, I got a cat named Dobby. She was basically the perfect cat: sweet, calm, and best of all, litterbox trained. But sadly she passed away, so of course I wanted another cat. Every day for about seven months I asked for a cat that I had found online, and every time my parents said no. After what felt like the hundredth time, I went into my room and prayed that God would give me a cat.

Not even an hour later, I looked out the front door and there were three cats in our trailer. I lured them in through the dog door, and one of them had kittens behind our washing machine, and eventually we had 25. And they keep having kittens, so we are literally infested with cats.

So in conclusion, the most important lesson I have learned from living on the farm is “don’t ask for things you really don’t need.”

The rest of the story, by Mindy

This isn’t a situation that fully developed overnight. It started very quickly with cats that Ace and I assumed would never get close enough to enjoy a scratch behind the ears, but for some reason these not-as-feral-as-we-thought barn cats immediately loved our girls. And it has gone on for several years while we discussed what to do about it. The Dreamy One is just about done feeding cats and cleaning up after them, but I still catch her cuddling and kissing and baby talking kittens on the regular.

The Literal One, age 12, on the other hand, names every cat and can tell them apart from across the pasture. She is NOT done and truly loves them. “Cats are my emotional support pickles,” says the Literal One. (Apparently that’s a thing…). She has named Briar Quinn, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and a whole batch of Lord of the Rings kittens: Gimli, Pippin, Gollum, Gandalf (grey, naturally) and Legolas, just to name a few. Ace and I waffled for years over how firm we would be about no more cats – clearly, we are softies for kittens. And for Gus, Shawn’s twin brother, who cries at the window whenever we put him outside.

Our kittens have been raised indoors until they are big enough to go outside and then we have to encourage them to leave the back porch (are y’all sensing that theme?). Every time a door opens, front or back, there is a quick battle over whether Sully or Jelly Bean are staying outside or coming in. For a while we were finding kittens in the strangest places, behind the washing machine, under the feedbags, etc. Gus, Shawn and Simba started out their lives in a bedroom drawer.

At the time of this post, we have 10 cats indoors and at least 15 outdoors. While most farms treat cats as pest control, we have spent, by my estimate, a million and twelve dollars on taking care of ours. (That’s hyperbole but it feels accurate.) Mouse traps would have been much more economical!

Recently the farm vet came out for an entire Saturday and fixed more than 20 of them (and did rabies vaccines while she was at it). So we should not be finding any more kitten piles around the barn.

The Dreamy One learned not to ask for things she doesn’t really need. The Literal One learned that cats increase her joy. And I learned that cats reproduce more like rabbits than rabbits.

A little girl prayed for one cat. We now have at least 25, and we keep the dog door blocked. I’m still not a cat person, Shawn.

More lessons we learned the hard way: Things I Wish I Knew Before We Bought the Farm.