Last Sunday morning when Annie called us from the Camino in Spain, a portion of our conversation involved a dream she had the night before.
"I dreamed about kittens last night, Mom," she said. "That's a sign from the Camino that you need to get a kitten."
What time did you have this dream?" I asked, knowing full well that if she was dreaming, she was probably not looking at her Fitbit watch.
My query simply led into a coincidental story I wished to share.
"About the time you were dreaming in far-off Spain, I was up in Barbara and Laurie's hay mow petting a kitten," I told her.
"See," Annie responded, "that's a sign from the Camino. You need to get a kitten."
On a visit to Sandpoint, Annie had met some of the kittens a couple of weeks earlier, when their eyes were still closed.
Well, since Annie's trek to the Tibbs hay mow, eyes have opened, and, as of yesterday, Laurie reports 14 eyes have opened, probably with guidance of two moms who are pooling their efforts, an uncle and a grandpa.
So, the Tibbs hay mow has, for sure 11 feline residents, along with a few occasional guests.
Yesterday marked the big discovery of all seven kittens (an eighth died). They're all Siamese (maybe even full Siamese since a big fluffy Siamese tom hangs around the barn).
A text came yesterday morning to Debbie and me to come and see all those kittens. Laurie reported that they were all playing in the hay mow with the adults watching over them.
By the time Debbie and I arrived from our respective homes, the moms had sent the kittens to their home in one of the many caverns inside the haystack.
Laurie assured us, though, that Arreole (I don't know the right spelling but she has a tail shaped like an arrow, so it's a takeoff from that) would certainly come to greet us.
Sure enough, she did, receiving another large dose of love from the human visitors. Laurie says she's been friendly since the beginning and that others are coming around.
I can only imagine how much fun it is when the entire clan is racing and jumping and purring and meowing around the hay mow.
Kittens have always provided wonderful elements to farm life, especially kittens in hay mows. Some of my most cherished summer moments involved kittens that lived in our granary on the North Boyer farm.
We'd find them, bring them outside, sit on the granary step, love them and watch them play in the barnyard dirt. Then, we'd put them back in their safe abodes.
Kittens are irresistible, of course, just like puppies and baby anythings, for that matter, and, of course, Annie with her Camino dream would love nothing more than for Mom to pick out a kitten.
Of course, I like to point out to Annie (who lives an apartment in Seattle 350 miles away) that she would play with the "kitten" for maybe two days of its kitten existence. Then the adorable little ball of fur would grow into a cat.
And, who gets to take care of this subsequent cat with surely nine whole lives to live???
Heck, that cat may outlive me!
The kitten talk will probably fit well into the discussion topic which also includes the Jersey cow I'm supposed to purchase so that the cowbell Annie brought me from Switzerland can have a neck from which to ring.
Never mind the udder which needs to be emptied twice daily.
What's wrong with this picture? Oh, heck.
For now, I won't even attempt to come up with an answer to that question because all those pictures of the kitty cat visit in the Tibbs barn yesterday are pretty cool.