A Visit with Mama Cat

Six years ago, a friend bought a farm along the South Nation River, near Plantagenet, and DW and I have driven the hour or so every few months to visit him. Sometimes, we visit more frequently.

When he took possession of the farm, he also inherited several barn cats—a few, who were expectant mothers. This was not part of his plan.

Sadly, some of the newborn kittens didn't survive, either through birth or to becoming victim to wild animals around the farm. Those that survived were cared for until they were old enough to give to animal rescue centres, where they found loving homes.

Our friend also turned in some of the adult cats, not wanting to be home to a feline population.

There were three cats that he liked and wanted to keep around the farm. He named them Shadow, Tabitha, and Mama.

Mama, to his surprise, became pregnant almost immediately giving birth to one litter that he had just turned in to the rescue shelter. He suspected that a cat from a neighbouring farm was the father but never tracked it down.

He told us that as soon as this litter arrived, he would have Mama fixed. He already had Tabitha and Shadow fixed when he turned in all of the other cats.

We visited our friend a week after the litter was born and we were instantly attached to the four that survived. When our friend said that he was going to hand the kittens over to the rescue shelter as soon as they were old enough to wean from Mama, we decided that we'd take one.

We already had two cats, Camille and Lily, and we thought introducing a male cat might settle Lily down, as she was always pouncing on Camille, who tolerated Lily but wasn't always in a playful mood.

Kid 2, who visited to see the kittens a week later, immediately fell in love with the orange tabby. I liked him, too, but also became enamoured with the calico, who sort of resembled its mother. When we learned that the calico kitten was female, as were the other two kittens, we decided that the orange tabby would be the one coming home with us, when he was old enough.

Kid 2 already had a name for him: Finn.

On subsequent visits to the farm, I developed an attachment to the calico kitten, who was as rambunctious as she was affectionate, and a decision was made: we'd take them both.

Coming up with a name for the calico kitty took some time. I think the decision was made when DW was singing the Simon & Garfunkel song, Cecilia.

We named her Cece.

Cece and Finn, when we brought them home.

Over the years, when we've visited our friend, Mama would often make an appearance. Of the three cats that our friend kept, Mama was the friendliest. Tabitha and Shadow would be close by but they would run away if you tried to approach them.

Sadly, Shadow disappeared a couple of years ago, likely taken by a predator. And when Mama disappeared for almost a month, we feared that she had met the same fate.

But Mama reappeared, although with a scar on her nose. She's small but tough.

Last weekend, on another visit to our friend, Mama wanted to be front and centre, wanted to get lots of attention. And we obliged.

The way she moves, gives you looks, leans in for a pat, and swishes her tail tells you that she and Cece are cut from the same cloth. When we leave our cats to visit with our friend, we see Mama and feel that our cats aren't far.

When our friend bought the farm, he learned that Mama was about five at the time, meaning that she's 11 now. For a barn cat, living outside (our friend doesn't let the cats in the house but has set up a nice shelter in one of the outbuildings), she's one tough cat. Tabitha was only a few months old when he took possession of the farm, but she's managed to survive outdoors, too.

We don't want to think of a time when Mama is no longer with us, but at least we can look to two of her babies and see her for many more years to come.