(6) Farm Lessons are Life Lessons

I’m back! I apologize for my absence from posting lately, my kiddos started school and we were making some big changes at work all at once. And if you’re a parent of a school aged child you know all too well that the first day of school is like the starter pistol at an uphill marathon.

Now I will pre-warn you, I’ve toyed with censoring this story for the faint of heart, but I’ve decided, after the advice and encouragement of some of my readers (thank you Hannah, Jake, Mom), to tell it how it is. Be warned it’s a box of kleenex read.

So here goes…

When you live in the country, there are a variety of prairie rodents that become a nuisance; pack rats, mice, moles, and the like. So to keep those pests out of our house, garage, etc. we got some “barn kittens.” We got four kittens from a local horse trainer, unfortunately, we had to consider that they may not all make it past kitten-hood so we decided four was a good number to start with.

We had Mittens (black with white paws), Tygie (brown and black stripes), Shadow (gray with a white nose), and Lucky (brown and black). Let me start off by telling you that each kitten had a personality of it’s own and my boys cared for them like they were tiny furry members of our family. Carried them around, babied them, fed them, loved them dearly. Tygie was, well Tygie was an asshole. He would hiss and kick all the other kittens out of their food bowls and eat their food. Mittens was super fluffy and loved being carried around. Shadow was shy and hesitant, he was the follower. Lucky, well lucky was a snuggler. Used to jump up on my lap every time I sat down outside.

As they got bigger, they liked to explore the yard off the front porch, where their house was, and climb the trees in our front yard. Oh and their house… you’ll love this! My big, strong, manly husband. The same one who said “I’ll never have a cat. I hate cats.” All on his own accord, made them their own little safe house. Used a medium size tote, a ratchet strap, and a fleece blanket. Cut a hole small enough, no enemy could fit. Then (as it was getting colder) wrapped the entire thing in a thick blanket for insulation. It was seriously the sweetest thing I’d seen him do (for someone/something other than the boys).

Anyway, where was I? Right, so they liked to explore a bit. They also greeted us as we arrived home if we were out. They’d run up to us as we got out of the car and the boys would pick them up and snuggle them a bit as they greeted them. It was pretty cute watching them race through the yard and stop just shy of the driveway as they waited for the boys to climb out and snatch them up.

One evening, after basketball practice, we (the boys and I, Jake was working) were arriving home after dark, and right on queue the kittens raced through the yard toward the curve in the driveway the lead up to the house. Our driveway was  quite long with a curve right at the end that angled toward the house. The kittens were rapidly headed toward the spot they usually “lined up” along that curve and wait for the car to stop. Except this time, the car was almost in place and at lightning speed Lucky darted under the car!! It was after the front wheels had passed her and I caught the flash of fur out of the corner of my eye as she ran under the car. Then I felt the smallest, almost gentle, “ba-bump” as the back wheels were unable to miss poor Lucky. To this day I get a knot in my throat when I think about that feeling. As I forced myself to look in the side mirror nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. There was poor Lucky, she’d made it a couple steps after the tire, she was convulsing. It was awful. That only lasted a mere second, felt like more, and then she was still. Completely still. I was frozen, staring into the mirror. I was in shock. What had I just done??? I was jarred back to the present by Hunter asking “Mommy, what was that? Mommy are you ok?” As tears welled up in my eyes and began to spill down my cheeks all I could muster was. “Stay in the car.” As I got out, and slowly crept toward poor Lucky, it was unmistakable, she was gone.

By that time, Hunter had also discovered what had happened. “Mom, is that Lucky? Why is she just laying there? Is she ok?” As I looked on, still in shock, I muttered “No, she’s not. Go in the house… Take your brothers in the house.” I think he sensed it, and did not argue, or ask another question. He helped me get the boys out and into the house. As I stepped in the door I saw Shadow creeping up to poor Lucky and began licking her. In a strange way, the fact that the kitten who came to Lucky’s side was (a) Shadow was a bit poetic.

I shakily rummaged for my phone in my purse. As I scrolled for Jake’s number. I began crying harder. The boys were speechless. Just wide-eyed, mouths gaping as they’d never seen Mommy this upset. As Jake answered the phone I sobbed “She’s dead, I ran over her! What do I do? I can’t go back out there!” He, understandably, on the other end is trying the get a word in to figure out what the hell is going on. He keeps repeating “Who? Who are you talking about?” And I finally get out the words “Lucky, I ran over Lucky…” and his response was something I’ll never forget. He said, “Oh my god, you scared me! I thought you ran over the dog! (a slight chuckle, out of relief). In some demented way, that actually helped lighten that dreadful moment. I told him I couldn’t possibly go back out that and face Lucky.  So, because he was at work, and couldn’t help me out. Jake called (I couldn’t bear to say what had happened out loud again) our neighbor, Travis, who came to my rescue and took care of Lucky.

At that moment I had to decide, farm lesson or city lesson, “that’s life” or sweet kitten burial. When Jake and I first talked about moving to the county and getting farm animals we said that we wanted our kids to be realistic about having land and animals and life and death. Not detached by any means, still empathetic, but real. We wanted them to understand loss and be able to decipher between loss of a farm animal and loss of a family pet or a loved one. So, now cat lovers please don’t shoot me, and do not mistake, my boys cared about those kittens, but they were barn cats, mousers, farm animals. So we opted for the farm lesson. No burial, but the talk instead centered around life and death and that sometimes, on a farm, animals can get hurt and die. And that may happen more frequently that it had in the city where we had a dog. Not an easy talk for a city girl. But I wasn’t giving my boys enough credit. They reacted with empathy and insight into life and death that I had no idea a child was capable of. Low and behold, it was them who walked me through the talk of life and death that night.