Johnny, be good

It's highly unusual to see Johnny Cash Cat emerge from the feed room in the light of day.

His confidence is growing in direct proportion to his collection of trophies.

That is, until he hears Smooch bark.

Johnny: One of these days I'll march over to that fence and give that dog a taste of her own medicine!

Johnny: But for now, I'll just sit back and watch her...

...while I plot my next move.

Top 10 reasons I've become attached to the cat I vowed I wouldn't become attached to

10. He's no longer afraid of me and likes to be brushed and loved on.

9. He's predictable. His daily routine does not vary. Breakfast at 6, sleeps until noon, greets me at lunchtime, sleeps until dinnertime, eats, sleeps until the sun sets, hunts all night long, returns to his room in time for breakfast, then we start all over again.

8. He's easy to find in the dark. He limits his territory – so far – to the immediate vicinity of the house and barn. With my headlamp on, I can always spot him.

7. Once we join up in the dark, he follows me around, weaving in and out of my feet for as long as I stay outside.

6. He's afraid of Lucy and the boys. He won't leave the feed room if they are nearby, so I don't have to worry about him 

getting stepped on.

5. He doesn't harass Smooch...yet.

4. The feed room is rodent free and the packrats have not returned to the chicken coop!

3. He hasn't acquired a taste for the birds who water at the stock tank, probably because they're only around during the day when he's busy sleeping. We won't talk about his penchant for baby rabbits and squirrels.

2. He feeds the chickens. Every morning when I let the girls into the front yard, they race around the bushes looking for Johnny's hunting trophies, which they proceed to eat and/or carry around for the rest of the day.

1. He understands the importance of having his picture taken for this blog and doesn't seem to mind.

p.s. I haven't seen June since she left the feed room two weeks ago. That darned cat.

By the light of the moon

The moonlight was so bright this weekend, I was compelled to go out and play in the dark.

I don't spend nearly enough time outside at night as I should. 

I might stargaze for a few minutes when I make my final trip to the barn before I go to bed, but that's it, which is a shame

because nighttime is probably the best time to be outside in the summer – no bugs, no wind, no heat.

And now, I don't even have to worry about mice running across my path and startling me. 

Johnny: Coming through...pardon me...on a mission...gotta keep the place rodent free.

I'm amazed at how quickly the rodent population has diminished in the general vicinity of the house and barn.

It's not like JohnnyCashCat is leaving a path of dead vermin in his wake – it's more like the word is out

that a fierce feline has moved in so the mice and packrats have moved to safer grounds. Amen.

Getting a barn cat was definitely the right move rodent-wise. 

But that whole sermon I preached to myself about not getting attached? Epic fail.

You: I told you so.

We'll leave the light on for you

Sometime last week (before the percussion section began practicing), I taped open the cat door

so that Johnny and June would have a clear view of what awaited them in the world outside the feed room.

My plan worked. Johnny would wait until: a) there were no hooves in sight and b) it was dark, 

then go out hunting every single night. Surely it was only a matter of time before June would do the same. 

Meanwhile, I was thinking I had better come up with a better way to keep the cat door open before I ran out of duct tape.

Johnny and June were spending their days napping in their beds. 

Johnny would greet me every time I came into the feed room; June would run and hide behind the feed bin. 

It was a comfortable and predictable routine.

Wynonna is always tucked into bed by the time Johnny makes his nightly rounds, 

so he seemed more than a little surprised the first time he caught a glimpse of her.

I assured him she is harmless, but he remains doubtful.

Anyway, all was well and good until Tuesday morning when I went out to feed breakfast.

I peeked behind the feed bin to say good morning to June, and she was gone.

I peeked behind the feed bin a dozen more times that day... and Wednesday ... and Thursday,

and she is still gone. And I'm thinking she's not coming back.

I assume she would rather live a wild existence than one in which she has to see a human being every day.

I won't hold it against her. I'm not crazy about being around most people either.

June, you'll always be welcomed if you choose to return. We'll leave the light on for you, and the cat door open.

In the still of the night

Our semi-feral, fearful feline waits on the doorstep for his prey.

He thinks about diving into territory unknown...

and dips his toes in the water...

...only to have second thoughts. Smooch doesn't help matters any when she catches a glimpse of Johnny from her perch on the porch.

Smooch: *bark bark bark bark bark*

It takes awhile, but Johnny musters his confidence and emerges again to patiently wait for another mouse to pass by.

I get bored and go back in the house. You don't want to see photos of squirming mice hanging out of Johnny's mouth anyway.

The boys have issues with my open-door policy

One night last week when I went outside to tuck in the herd, Johnny CashCat emerged from the feed room and took a tour of the barn and general vicinity. I was shocked, amazed and thoroughly delighted. The herd was nowhere in sight, and I think Johnny saw it as a safe opportunity to explore. I was wearing my headlight, so it was easy to follow him around. I didn't have my camera to document the momentous occasion, but it looked alot like this:

Johnny kept his eyes on me and I kept my headlight on him. After 15 minutes or so, he went back through the cat door and called it a night. It's hard to know whether he's been on the prowl since then. He gifted me with a fresh pile of entrails one morning last week, so there's a possibility that he's been out hunting. During the day, though, he seems very content hanging out in the feed room with June.

I don't think he's afraid of Lucy and the boys, but he's not very confident when they're around. 

I thought it might be helpful if he could watch them from a distance and get used to their comings and goings, 

so yesterday I parked my chair at the open feed room door and let him observe.

What he saw was a hungry mob willing to do anything to get past me and steal some hay off the floor.

George: How can we grab a snack if you're blocking the door?

Alan: This has lost cause written all over it. I'm outta here.

George: Come on, mom, be a sport.

Me: Forget it. You're not coming in here. 

George: It will only take a second. I'll get some hay, the cat can experience my cuteness up close – it's a win-win.

George: Geez...and they call me stubborn.

As I went back to the house, the boys were trying to convince Johnny to slip them some hay through the cat door.

George and Alan tell a knock knock joke

George: Knock knock.

Johnny CashCat: Who's there?

George: A herd.

Johnny CashCat: A herd who?

Alan: A herd you were home so we came over.

Since Johnny and June won't leave the feed room to meet the herd, I let the herd in the feed room to meet them.

Johnny CashCat: Please tell me I don't have to share my litter box with them.

George: We know you're back there, June, and we'd love to meet you.
June: I vant to be alone.

Is it my imagination or is Johnny rolling his eyes at me?

Johnny: That burro just picked up a bale of hay with his teeth!

And she wonders why I'm afraid of him...

Lucy: I'll be your friend, Johnny. My jokes are much better.

Johnny CashCat goes on tour...but doesn't get very far

Saturday marked the end of Johnny and June's one-month incarceration in the feed room. 

It was time to swing open the door and let them out to earn their keep.

Johnny finally got a good look at the four noisemakers on the other side of the door.

Johnny CashCat: I think I'll just stay right here if you don't mind.

I wasn't going to force the issue, so I closed the people door, opened the cat door, and went back in the house,

figuring Johnny would come out when he was good and ready. 

That lasted about a half an hour. What if he couldn't figure out the cat door? I went back outside.

Me: Johnny CashCat! Come out come out wherever you are!

Hard to say who was more surprised when he poked his head out.

He took a good look around, assessed the situation...

...then went right back inside. Maybe he doesn't want to go on tour without June,

who is still hiding in her dressing room suffering from stage fright.

Johnny and June

The new barn cats are still holed up in the feed room, getting acclimated to their new home before I let them roam the ranch. 

I haven't seen much of their personalities so it's hard to say if Johnny and June will be the right names, but that's what I'm calling them. 

Johnny Cash Cat knows the hand who feeds him. He comes out of hiding and lets me pet him

whenever he hears the magical sound of cat food rattling in his bowl. 

I try to engage him in play...

...but he doesn't see the point. He has more in common with Henri, le Chat Noir than Maru.

June Carter Cash Cat remains a total enigma. She never emerges from her hiding place when I'm present.

Every time I'm in the feed room, I stick my head between the feed bin and the wall to make sure she's still there.

I say hello, she stares up at me and says "you again?" and we repeat this exercise at least eight times a day.

Sometimes I stick my camera in the 6" wide space where I'd normally stick my head.

I press the shutter and hope for the best.

Even out of focus, her eyes are beautiful.

June: You again?