Frances and Good Bye

Frances with our farm in the background. 

Our 18 year old brown tabby Frances made her transition today.  She and her brother Columbus have traveled many miles with me.  They came to us as "barn cats" when we had our farm.  They were not allowed in the house as my ex husband was very allergic to cats.  Frances was the prettiest kitten I have ever had.  She would be an indicator and a messenger for me and my kids.

As the marriage was ending, and I was becoming more and more desperate for safety in my own home.  I used to use Frances and Columbus as "Cat Irons" holding them upside down by their legs and ironing my very allergic husband's pants and shirts with their dander.  The beast would put on his clean golf shirt and start to sneeze.  "There must be cat somewhere!" He would exclaim, and storm out of the house.   I would smile the smile of the just when he left.  Eventually, he would be asked to leave with a court order, and Frances, Columbus, and others were allowed in the house.  It  was a joyous day to have kitties sleeping on our beds again.

Frances in better days on the deck of my studio.

Frances was about 6 months old when she met a large stray black male.  They took one look at each other and walked into our field together.  She returned in 3 days...and I knew.  She hadn't been spayed yet, and now it was too late.  Frances spent most of her pregnancy outside.  Until the OP was in place.  Then, she spent most of her time in front of the fridge.  Waiting for some turkey lunch meat.  She cried every time we opened the door of the fridge. She earned the name: "Frances the talking cat."  She grew so big that we had to put wood blocks under her dishes, as she could not reach them over her belly.  Our UPS driver saw her and said: "Lady, I think this cat is pregnant with a dog."  Little 7 pound Frances looked like a Macy's Parade balloon on Thanksgiving morning.

Frances' 7

The 2 day trial came, and the "beast" was trying to revoke the order of protection that kept him out and the cats in.  When the judge said: "I am not going to let you back in that house with that beautiful family"...I cried.  My teenage daughter left the court to pick up her little brother.  I came home after her.  She greeted me at the front gate: "Mom, Frances is having her kittens!"  I assumed Frances had found the boxes with bedding I had placed around.  But nooo, she was having them right on the front door rug for the world to see.  For me, 9 kittens was a big enough flare.  Signs come in all different ways. This one told me he would really never be back.

You can see how wide her belly is when she is not pregnant. Maine Coon.

9 kittens was too many.  2 did not make it.  7 kittens was enough to give us hope.  We delighted in watching their growth, her first time mothering, and "Uncle Columbus."  Uncle Columbus liked the kittens too.  He would take them from their box and put them on a big wing chair. He'd bathe them from head to toe.  Frances the talking cat was really not amused.  So she began hiding them in places every night.  Behind the washer and dryer was her favorite.  Columbus at 22 pounds couldn't fit back there.  Every morning my son and I would play "let's find the kittens." 

Frances was really not a social kitty.  She was much shyer than her extrovert bro.  When I left the farm it was in an ambulance.  Orders of protection don't always protect.  I never returned, it was too dangerous.  I was only allowed 2 cats in my temporary home.  When asked which two, I knew Frances and Columbus. Columbus was extraordinary, and no one could find Frances to adopt her.  She would only come to us.  The 2 cats traveled cross country with me to our new life in one cat carrier to New Mexico.  As you know Columbus succumbed to cancer last year.  Frances spent his last month sleeping with him in "his box", then howling for days after he passed.  I hope they are together again.  Thinking they are, gives me great comfort.

Columbus and Frances days before his leaving us.

Where Frances spent her last days.

Frances was a cat who would not sit on your lap.  However, she liked to be turned on her back and held like a baby.  After Columbus died, she became more social.  She started sleeping on the rug under Buddy's dish.  Using his dish as a pillow.  As ever, she'd meow constantly for food if you were near her dish.  She slept between Bob and my pillows until this last month.  Her bladder had thickened and the discomfort, and urgency to be near her litter box left her to live in a 5 sq. foot radius of her own making.  The medicine helped her pain, but made her a zombie.  Last week I was petting her. She had been laying in the same place Columbus had spent his last days.  Never moving except to eat and potty.  She lifted her head when I started petting her, and gave me "the look."  "Enough" she was saying.  Cats are stoic creatures, silent to the end.  After that, I realized keeping her going was meeting my needs, not hers.

Today I let her go. With her goes the last piece of my farm. 

Thanks for reading.  Each day is a gift. Open now.
xo,
Suz

Columbus

Columbus in watering can on the porch. He didn't last long at a one digit weight.

I've had many pets during my lifetime.  Columbus was, and will always stand on his furry black and white paws above the rest.  We got him in Morengo Illinois, from a white clapboard house that was in need of painting.  We answered an add for free kittens in the local paper.  Kelley and I drove together in my pick up truck to get some "barn cats."  We had a mouse population that needed serious attention.

When we got to the house, it was filled with little kids.  They showed us to "the cat room" which was an unheated glass windowed back porch that one sees in typical Midwestern farm houses.  The kids had made a kitty jungle gym out of empty brown cardboard boxes.  They had a litter of 7.  6 black and white tuxedo kittens, and one brown tabby.  I watched the kittens playing.  They were having a wonderful time jumping in and out of the boxes.  One stopped and came to me. I asked the kids about "this one."
"Oh he's the wildest!" they said in unison.
"We'll take him for sure!" I answered. thinking Alex would love him.
Then Kelley chose the largest of the litter for herself.  A sweet calm hunk of fur.  I am fond of cats with M's on their forehead, and chose the runt of the litter...the only tabby and female.  When we picked up the two males they both purred.  That's a good sign when kitten shopping.

In the top photo he is under Alex's "midi" blanket.

Cooling off in a sink in summer.

On the drive home Columbus sat on the back of the front seat between Kelley and me looking out the window.  His brother "Bailey" slept in Kell's lap.  "Frances" the tabby hid under the seat.  We had our barn cats who would live in the mudroom and on the screened porch until they were old enough to venture outside on their own.  The ride home would be the foreshadowing of their personalities.  Before summer came it was clear that Columbus was large and in charge. He loved to hang from the screens on the porch to get a higher POV (point of view). He slept in a large blue watering can until he couldn't fit any longer. He greeted everyone coming and going.  He was one of those dog-like cats who was everywhere we were.  As soon as someone sat down on the porch, he was on their laps.

Frances was one of the most stunning kittens I have ever had.

She looked like a greeting card.

When the 3 were old enough to go outside...Frances got pregnant immediately.  We had been given 2 large black cats (Heckle and Jeckle) and when Frances saw Heckle it was love at first sight. No hissing. Just nose touching nose, and they went out to the field to return in three days.  She would deliver 9 kittens on the front hall rug: 7 all black, 2 brown tabbies.  Uncle Columbus loved to babysit his nieces and nephews.  He'd take them out of the box and bring them up on a large red wing chair and bathe them.  Even licking the diaper changing parts like a mommy cat.  It drove the naturally paranoid Frances crazy.  So she'd hide the kittens in places he couldn't get to...some would endanger them.  Like, behind the dryer that got very hot.  Every morning I would come down and play "find the kittens."  Columbus was the tell.  He'd walk over and get as close as he could.  And sure enough, there they were.

Mama Frances and her "7"

Bailey did not even make it to a year.  The road in front of the farm took him.  Then, as life would have it...we had to leave the farm.  Of all the cats we had, I kept Columbus and Frances.  They moved to several locations before we came to New Mexico.  On the long drive from Chicago to Albuquerque they kept me company in Motel 8's (who accept pets).   Columbus would get on the bed, Frances would hide under it.  They moved from Albuquerque to Santa Fe and back to Albuquerque without a complaint.

"Are you sure you want to delete that?"

Columbus was about 23 pounds of Maine Coon.  At one point he was down to 7 pounds. After exploratory surgery that was inconclusive, we switched foods, and he was back to his fighting weight in no time.  He ate his California Natural food morning, noon, and night.  A few years later he dropped weight again. It was because of cancer in his thyroid.  Bob said he was worth the costly radioactive material and 3 week vet stay we paid for.  He could go home when a geiger counter didn't click at 3 feet.  Once home and snuggled in my lap I fondly called him "my radioactive lap blanket."  After that he would sleep on a floor outlet that we felt kept him alive in some unexplainable sci-fi way.

If we were there...he was there.

I took a photo on his birthday as he and Frances waiting for the expensive "South Beach diet for cats" canned food I dished out.  He had gotten so fat, that he couldn't groom himself.  He had to be shaved and bathed twice.  The second time he was so cold, that Bob and I bought him a camo print polar fleece dog coat and called him "Camo-Cat!"  We never told him it was a dog coat...that could really get to a cat.

 Never met a cool sink he didn't like.  Getting bathed by "the Cat Diva."

He loved everyone and every animal.  He slept with our pot belly pigs in the barn.  He joined Ethan in the crib when he was a baby. When E was old enough to be in a booster chair, he sat right next to him IN the chair.  Boxes were his favorite. For years when we did jig saw puzzles or played a game he would sleep in the box tops.  Too big for most...they all gave way to his 23 pounds and had to be taped together at the corners.  We have so many photos of him in amusing places. I called him "the fur lined speed bump."

 Next to "the plug" he is the "fur lined speed bump"

Jenny took this picture last summer when he was visiting her house.

And now we are left with his sister Frances, and Lola cats.  I feel as if I am running the cat asylum. Frances has an over developed fight or flight response and runs away from any sudden move or noise. She is naturally paranoid.  I can say this because I have had her from 8 weeks, and she has always been like this.  Lola has an official diagnosis of "OMD": obsessive marking disorder.  Like a hand washer feels their hands are dirty, she constantly feels the urge to mark her territory.  So she is on an anti depressant...that helps (and saved our furniture).  Neither of the two crazy cats will ever be the kind of companion Columbus was.  Columbus was always where we were.  The two girls, like humans with mental disorders are in their own private Idaho. Frances is still calling to Columbus every night, and sometimes it lasts for hours.  Pitiful hearing her cry, not able to understand where he is.

I have boxes of photos from our lives at the farm.  I will have to go through them to find some pics of Columbus at stellar moments.  These boxes of photos I have avoided since leaving the farm.  But with Columbus' passing I feel somehow compelled to face the grief of losing my life at the farm.  I know that psychologically the two are tied together.  I am now ready to face the grief I have pushed away for so many years.

I bought myself a pendant from Lulubug Jewelry on Etsy. It is sterling with a black and white cat like Columbus on it. Here's the link:
http://www.etsy.com/listing/50111571/tiny-cat-necklace-in-silver?ref=sr_gallery_15&ga_search_query=lulubugjewelry&ga_search_type=&ga_page=&order=&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title


Withing days of his passing...Columbus has come back to us in a special way.  Our daughter Kelley and Grandson Ethan have adopted "Ernie" a dark gray and white tuxedo cat.  His calm, loving, purring madly spirit lives on.  

 "Ernie"

We planted a fig tree in the back yard, and under it we put the ashes of Columbus.   When I water the tree I greet him every day.  Grateful to have been blessed with such a pet for 16 years.  See you on the other side, Columbo. XO

Thanks for reading.  I'm still amazed that you do.

xo

Suz

Magdalena Ranch

A visit to Richard and Sally Rogers Ranch in Magdelena New Mexico

We left a cloudy drizzle in Albuquerque. Headed south on I25 towards Socorro.  We were going to visit a knifemaker, Richard Rogers and his wife Sally at their ranch in Magdelena.  The moment we crossed the Albuquerque city limits, the sun came out.  Shining on our 2 hour drive.   I was so excited to see their herd, and Bob to see Richard's shop.  I had a hard time falling asleep the night before our trip.

As we got into Magdelena it clouded over.  The temperature dropped 10 degrees in one minute.   On Route 107 we turned into their drive.  I got out and walked across the cattle guard and opened the gate for Bob to drive through.  It is over  a mile on a dirt drive to their house.  Dogs greeted us, and I could see horses in the paddock and hear mooing in the distance. For me that's the sound of Heaven.

Richard and I went out to feed the cattle.  Bob, not really interested in this stayed behind and drank his coffee with Sally.  We took the truck and drove down their drive to a red 2 story hopper that holds feed pellets.  The pellets look like REALLY large dog food.  In the back of the truck is a container with a conveyor belt that spreads the feed behind the truck.  We drove into one of the pastures, well in NM it's brush, cacti and pinon.  In cold weather they would need other high protein supplement to keep warm.  The herd started walking toward us.  There were Black Angus, and brown Brangus.

 Richard filling the feeder from the hopper.

The herd coming to us.

We got out of the truck and the cattle surrounded us. Gently brushing up against us.  The cows stood back at first because there were so many calves.  Mamas are protective, and I was unfamiliar.  Richard beeped the horn to call some that were far away.  He was looking for "Pup" a favorite of his son's.  Eventually, "Pup" and most of the others came to meet, eat, and greet.  I was surrounded by them.

 A little head butting action.

 Mama protecting her baby and giving me the eye.

I felt a sharp pain in my stomach as I was shoulder to shoulder with these huge animals.  Deep sobs started to emerge, and I could feel  tears cold on my cheeks.  The grief of losing my farm in that ugly divorce rose inside me.  I had flashes of our Nubian goats running down the driveway with their ears out like propellers. I could hear Sophie and Orson snorting and roosters crowing in the distance.  I never went back. Never had a good bye after my exit by ambulance  on that dark Halloween night.  It's a two year blur after that.  But this wasn't the time or the place.  I swallowed down hard, hoping Richard didn't notice.  I focused on the herd.

"Pup" coming in for the lick. 

They were ALL focused on me.  Safety in numbers, and all those numbers kept an eye on me.  They sniffed and licked, and nudged.  I patted, scratched and rubbed those who would let me.  Calves stood next to their Mums, young bulls butted heads.  They were treating me with the respect that was given to them by their owners.   Standing among 100 cattle could be daunting.  But I wasn't afraid, and neither were they.  Nirvana for me.  It was cold and windy, but it didn't matter.  I was kept warm by their energy.  Richard signaled it was time to go.  So we drove back toward the house.

 The horse with the cross on his back.

Some "goofy" horses checkin' me out!

"Wanna see some goofy horses?" he asked.
Absolutely, I want to see them!  So we went into the corral with about 10 horses.  Some had a donkey's cross on their back.  Again, all very tame and gentle.  Wanting to be scratched behind an ear or patted on the neck or snout.  The overwhelming feeling I had with the cattle erupted again.  I suppressed the urge to cry.  I could have stood there forever.  But in back of us we heard Sally and Bob talking outside Richard's shop.  Bob was dying to get in there.

 

Bob in Richard's shop

As with all knifemaker's shops...they have their own personality.   Richard's was orderly and modest. Bob looked at different jigs Richard had made.    Asking questions.  Talk turned to the machines.  I listened.  Richard gave me a few snail shell scraps for jewelry.  Sally and I talked about her setting up her looms in a new building some day.  Richard is an incredible knifemaker.  I plan to write a blog about a set of knives he made a few years ago.  He'll be at Blade this year, as usual.  No doubt there will be a feeding frenzy at his table as he and Sally try to get knives on their table.

We had lunch in Magdelena.  Of course I had a green chili cheeseburger.  While we were eating someone I knew from the movies walked in:  Cindy.  She has a ranch in Magdelena.  She is one of my favorite teamsters, and I was so happy to see her.  She and Benette drove me to set and back countless times.  Richard and Sally knew her and her family.  It's a small town.  In the picture of us you can see I am not over this virus that has been plaguing me.  I am so happy to have a photo of Cindy and me.  I never got one while working in the film industry.

Their complaint dept! 

Cindy, and paleface

I asked Bob to drive a few miles out of Magdelena.  I had a sense of deep satisfaction as I nodded in and out of my nap on the way home.  Being with animals has always had the effect on me.  I let a few tears escape.  But I never talked about it with Bob.  When he reads this it will probably be a surprise to him.  I am so grateful to Richard and Sally for sharing their ranch with me last Thursday.

The last time I opened my eyes on the drive home.

The time has passed in my life for me to keep hooved animals.  I couldn't manage them now, or the work they require. Below is a Mum and her calf with identical face markings.

 I am content with Buddy and the cats.  Oh, every now and then I long for a fat hen and fresh eggs.  But here in North Albuquerque Acres, the coyotes are too prevalent.   Some day I will get out the pictures of "Bittersweet Farm."  I'd like to put them in books for the kids.  Just not today.

Thanks for reading.  I'm still amazed that you do.

xo
Suz