Jonas Returns

I've been totally amazed at Jonas.  He's our cool cat, purchased from the Panhandle Animal Shelter a few weeks ago.  

A handsome 3-year-old Siamese, Jonas is as solid as they come.

And, when I say solid, I'm talking not only his physique but also his personality, intellect and overall common sense.

When I brought Jonas home, I took great care to break him in easily to life in the barn after life in the cush quarters with the other feline foster cats down there at the shelter.

I kept him in the tack room for a couple of days, blocking off the cat opening, which allows kitties to roam freely around the barn while still having their own personal, private space.

Inside that room, Jonas and his new buddy Fuzzy Wuzzy have a three-story cat condo, an enclosed comfy dog crate and his original cat carrier lined with a soft towel.  Jonas had food and water and his pick of the mice who used to run the tack room.

Within days, the mice disappeared from the tack room, and as I let him roam the barn, evidence of Jonas' mousing abilities began to appear with one or two deceased rodents a day.  

Within a week, the lively action of "mouse-house hops"  I'd seen for several weeks every time I set foot in the barn had ceased completely. 

This new cat on the block had not only settled in to his Lovestead digs, but he'd also sent a message to the mice:  stay outa my house.

Jonas quickly made friends with Fuzzy Wuzzy, and her hissing toward him ceased within a week.  Soon, the bonding was apparent, as it was with Annie Dog who sleeps in the barn every night.  

The trio had become a tight unit within no time, it seemed.

Jonas had also set the Border Collies straight.  

"Don't mess with me, or I'll smack you right in the nose," his first swipe at Brooke seemed to say. "and I've got really sharp claws."

The Border Collies hold a healthy respect for Jonas, even though they still feel the need to herd him.  

I'm wishing so much that I'd had a camera yesterday when I turned around on a walk down the lane to see three Border Collies and one happy Siamese, four abreast, following me.

Jonas is also unafraid of horses, although he knows to keep his distance from those loaded hooves.

Yesterday, he began accompanying each of the horses and me on the walk to the pasture, and last night he reappeared again, as I brought them back to the barn.

Just imagine the menagerie of one human, one horse, one confident cat and five doggies darting about along the lane.  I wasn't darting, but I was keeping close track of the busy four-legged action around me.

The horses seem to take all those distractions in their stride, and they're pretty well behaved considering all the goings-on around them.

Every night before dark, I go out and find Annie Dog wherever she happens to be in the yard.  Then, comes the leash and then the slow walk to the barn.

Once there, we're met by the greeting committee of two:  Jonas and Fuzzy Wuzzy.  As they gather around Annie, I fill the food dishes.  Annie stands watching me with that forlorn look only an old dog can give.

As I close the barn door, I watch the three of them head down the aisle together to the last box stall where they spend the night.

Well, last night when I led Annie to the barn, only one cat was there to greet us:  Fuzzy Wuzzy.

I wasn't too concerned because the night before Jonas had been tardy in his ushering duties, due to a mouse-hunting adventure out in the north pasture.  On one call, however,  he came happily racing to the barn.

So, when he was not there for roll call last night, I stepped outside and called him.

No Jonas. 

I continued calling him from both sides of the barn.  In my efforts to rouse out Jonas I watched the concern on Fuzzy Wuzzy and Annie's faces.  

Their expressions told me that, indeed, this group had become a unit, and one of their own was missing.

When Jonas did not show up, I pulled the barn door closed and left the light on, with plans to return later.

On my walk to the house, I remembered the huge bird I'd watched fly across the hay field and land in a tree in the Lodgepole pasture.  It was not an eagle and too small to be a hawk.  I surmised that it was probably an owl.

That thought made me nervous.  I'd heard stories about owls taking cats. 

Later, I returned to the barn three different times and called out for Jonas.  He never showed up.  I thought more and more about that owl.

Jonas had been so smart about his surroundings it seemed to me that he had possibly encountered a predator while out looking for his own catch. 

I went to bed, feeling pretty sad and pretty sure I'd never see Jonas again.

This morning when I opened the barn door, I prayed that he'd come running like he does every morning to greet me.

Things were pretty quiet in the barn.  Still, no sign of Jonas.  

I shrugged while picking up a lead rope to take Lily to pasture.  This morning, the whole group of Border Collies was with me cuz Todd and Brooke did a sleepover here last night.

I put the lead around Lily's neck and decided to call for Jonas as we walked down the lane.

Upon the first, "Kitty, Kitty, Kitty . . . here Jonas," that big boy appeared at the end of the lane.

A welcome sight, indeed.  

I don't know his overnight story, but once again, our new cat showed his common sense.  He had holed up in the far shed for the night, and he was safe.

I picked him up and carried him with me as Lily and I finished the walk to her pasture.  Once inside the pasture, she surprisingly did not bolt off for her regular romp across the field.

Instead, she stayed there at the gate, sniffing Jonas up close and personal.  He was just fine with her curiosity, and so was I.

Maybe some more bonding occurred during that moment, as it tends to do with all creatures who share the same real estate.

I told Bill I won't think the worst the next time Jonas doesn't show up when called, cuz he's one cool cat who knows how to take care of himself.

Welcome back, Jonas.  Life is once again complete here at the Lovestead.