I want to talk about some of the characters who share this farm with me. Woody got his name when I found him in the woodshed at the old place in Pa. It was near Christmas and awfully cold (triggers my charitable instincts every time) and he appeared one night. Woody is a great big handsome cat, and very friendly - to humans, that is. I brought Woody to Common Sense for Animals to get fixed the next day. They were great about that sort of thing. I could bring animals in to get checked, shots, and fixed in one visit. Sure, it costs big bucks ($150) but one trip is a lot easier that two when you have the number of animals I have. No wonder poor people don't get their animals fixed. You may get a deal on the neutering part with a coupon from some organization but together with shots it still equals groceries for a week, or hay, or whatever. Anyway, Woody moved to this farm with us last summer and I thought he would be very happy. What cat wouldn't want a 20,000 square foot barn with two giant hay mows, fields filled with mice, whatever? Disneyland for cats! No, Woody wants to live in the Milk Room and sleep on top of my fabric. I am always tossing him out. But Woody has social cat issues. He does not play well with others. He will walk up to another cat, staring them square in the face, making strange cat noises, and it freaks them out. I think he was a lone house cat when he lost his home. When I have cabinets in the new sewing room to hide my fabric in I will have a cat bed for Woody, dog beds for the dogs, etc. But for now I am squeezed to the limit in this room that doubles as kitchen, nursery, sewing room, computer room, laundry room, etc. I can't have cats on my fabric. When I cut out a bag I put all the pieces in a big zip lock bag until I can come back to it, and big pieces of fabric are stored in a giant plastic tub. However, being the highly disorganized, frenzied person that I am, things are left out sometimes. And that's where Woody comes in and tried to keep the fabric warm. What if someone with a cat allergy buys that bag? So, you see, Woody has to sleep on the cat sofa, or the hay bales, in the hay mow for now.
I had to laugh when I read about your Woody. We had a Woody cat, too. Found as a kitten in the woodpile. His mother and siblings had been killed by a dog and Woody was all alone there. He had some kind of stomach trouble that left him with perpetual diarrhea throughout the rest of his life. Woody, however was king of the farm. He ruled. There was not a dog nor cat nor racoon that could stand up to Woody. Eventually, Woody died, but what a kingdom he ruled.
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