Wild Kingdom, country-style

With the festival starting later this week, and my hair on fire with stress and last-minute details, I need the entertainment value of my strays more than ever. The first two stops of my daily three are low in EV, but my third stop – at the farm on Higgins Canyon – never fails to amuse.

There has been some serious heartache there to be sure. I blogged this winter about finding the body of one of the seven cats – a beautiful Russian Blue – after a mountain lion boldly came on the property and got him. It was an incredibly painful reminder about the perils of getting attached. And now, the alpha male of the group – cranky old Tom, the brown tabby – is on his last legs. He is frail and forgetful, has little appetite and seems to sleep most of the time. I keep thinking any day I’ll arrive in the morning and he will be gone – perhaps having found a quiet bush or creek bed to surrender himself and shuffle off this mortal coil.

Tom, it must be said, has been a serious jerk to any new cats who venture onto the farm. I’ve told myself often: it’s not his fault. It’s in the DNA of an alpha male to run competitors off. Many people don’t realize feral cats colonies operate like prides of lions – though I have yet to see a gazelle carcass nearby. They are slightly more subtle, but only slightly.

Which is why it’s been interesting and kind of poignant to see Tom relate to a new kitty who suddenly appeared at the farm a couple of months ago. At first he was fiercely indignant, sending the interloper scrambling for safety. But because of his waning health, and after trapping Mr. Tux and having him neutered, Tom has softened a bit. I’ve been feeding Tux on the far side of the farm, and have been greatly amused by watching their pas de deux. First the ears are flattened and the backs arched. Then they sit, acting nonchalant. Then Tux keels over on his side in total submission. Finally, Tom sniffs at the food, maybe takes a few bites because he can, and lopes off, leaving Tux confused but pleased.

 BACK OFF, INTERLOPER!

 OH, UH… I GUESS THERE’S ENOUGH FOR US BOTH.

 I’M JUST GOING TO LICK THIS TO MAKE IT CLEAR WHO’S BOSS.

Honestly, it’s about as exciting as Wild Kingdom ever was – and twice as cute! Mutual of Omaha, give me a call!

Perhaps I’m stressing the amusement of the situation because it’s less painful than dealing with Tom’s impending demise. He seems to get more frail every day. There’s a whole other blog entry that I could write about the struggle I go through, not knowing when to intervene in a stray’s failing health. I vowed to help cats; that also means not letting them suffer, but farm cats have been living and dying on their own terms forever. So I continue to fret until such time as the course is abundantly clear, love them from a distance, and chuckle at their wild ways.