Farmyard Friday | Tom, the Mighty Hunter

Being a cat person, I think everyone should have at least one cat. All my life I’ve had a cat, with the exception of the year we lived in a third floor apartment with a strict no pet policy.

Cats come and go fairly often at our place. Thanks to an abundant coyote population, the average lifespan of our cats is about one year.

There is an ongoing debate at our house as to whether our cats should be allowed indoors. For the most part they are outside cats, with the exception of a few outstanding felines.

Over the winter we had three cats, but this spring they all disappeared. One was a wild barn cat you couldn’t even touch, one was a sweet little purrer, and the third was our rambunctious, loveable favorite, Tom.

Tom’s disappearance was received with great distress. There were tears, prayers and posts on Facebook, but ultimately we were resigned to his fate. We were all shocked when two weeks later Tom came strolling home.

We don’t know where all he had traveled or what he’d gotten himself into, but he was quite a bit thinner and missing some patches of fur. He alternately purred and whined the whole first day he was home. For the first time in his life he was ravenous for affection. He’s never liked to be held and doesn’t purr, but since coming home he often jumps onto my lap and purrs. I’m liking this new Tom!

We don’t confine our cats indoors, so there is no way of knowing how long he will be around, but we hope he will have a long successful life. He has certainly been successful in his hunting abilities. We saw him with his first mouse when he was eight weeks old. Not long after he caught a bird. When he was six months old he caught our resident squirrel, Twinkleberry, after many attempts. We frequently see him with mice and birds.

A couple days ago Tom was spotted eating a mouse on the sidewalk. A few minutes later there was a terrible commotion, the kind of sounds you would expect if a predator was in the chicken house wreaking havoc. @justinmullet rushed to see what was wrong. He came on the scene just in time to see Tom race from the chicken house with a frantic look on his face, a handful of chickens on his tail. I don’t know if he was hunting mice or possibly after one of the chicks, but whatever it was the chickens did not give him a warm welcome.

As I type this he is sleeping under my feet. Looking at him now you’d never guess he is a hardcore hunter. He looks like a lazy cat, determined to sleep away his days, only awakening occasionally to meow in front of the fridge till a bowl of milk is produced. At the moment our crepuscular friend is lost in slumber.