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+My cat, Turing, was born a barn kitten. She was born a barn kitten in a barn that had too many barn cats. The owner of the barn realized there were getting to be too many barn cats and planned to deal with it in the way that farmers tend to. Even back in my younger years, I recognized that this plan arose from a kind of cold sense of mercy.
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+The only reason I caught wind of this situation was because my friend boarded a horse in that barn, so she heard about it from the source. She came up with a plan of her own: as spring wore on and the kittens began to wean, capture as many as possible and find homes for them as house cats. She enlisted her boyfriend, myself, and a few other friends to help, and over the course of a few weeks, we would visit the barn with her to coax, cage, and otherwise grab skittering, mewling fuzzballs.
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+It was tough going. Barn cats can be very nearly feral. Unlike truly feral cats, you'll actually see them around. They'll lay near humans, and some will even allow themselves to be pet. But by default a barn cat will run if you come too close. There was little hope of re-homing the adult cats. It would just be too much of an adjustment. The kittens hadn't fully learned to fear humans yet, but that didn't mean they were easy to catch. I think we left the barn empty-handed on all but one of the excursions I went on.
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+But persistence paid off. Over the weeks, our ragtag team amassed more than a dozen kittens of various ages. Memory fades around the exact number, but it was a lot of kittens. And they all went to a makeshift foster home in her boyfriend's house, where he lived with two or three other roommates. There they were bathed, fed, and cared for to make sure they got properly socialized while my friend worked out homes and made sure the kittens and the new kitten carers were ready. I remember visiting that house, the kitten house. It was always a joy to see what felt like dozens of bounding little cute kitties running around the house and playing with whatever new thing caught their oversized eyes. I imagine living there was a different story. To my understanding, the boyfriend slept under a veritable blanket of tiny, fuzzy bodies.
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+Not all of the kittens were perfectly healthy. There was certainly inbreeding going on in that barn, and as I said, it was overcrowded with cats. Some of them needed extra care, and despite best efforts, there were a few tragedies. Turing, the kitten I chose (or was chosen for me, I cannot remember for sure), was actually one of those who needed special attention. When I was talking to my friend not too long ago about Turing and how I came to have her in my life, she said that one of the reasons I got Turing was because I had a job in college and was willing to pay to take her to the vet. She had digestive issues, something that would follow her into adulthood, and I did indeed take her to the vet to get her through those first episodes. I can't say a younger me would have thought I'd be so happy to see a cat poop, but I quickly learned that's sometimes the life of a cat owner.
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+Barn cats.
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+The kitten house.
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+The first night together.
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+The end, and how much I still love her. My sweet little girl. My whiny old woman. Both at the same time, and still infinitely more.
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+An incomplete list of things I want to remember about her:
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+ - When she was young, she loved playing with tennis balls. I would roll them around for her. She even managed to get them into her mouth and could carry them up stairs.
+ - She and Fibbs would sleep on the kitchen counter in Rolla, but Fibbs was better at waking up when we came downstairs. So Turing would get caught.
+ - She loved grooming other cats. Sometimes forcibly.
+ - She was a good fighter. She could hold her own against the much larger Fry even as she got older, during their playfights.
+ - She liked to lay on her back would even just sleep like that in the middle of the carpet.
+ - She loved to rub her face on corners. Speakers, cardboard, carpet, the edge of my work laptop's screen. She could spend minutes at a time doing it.
+ - She attacked refrigerator magnets. Batting at them and trying to bite them off.
+ - She would occasionally play fetch with her toys. She especially was a fan of Nerf darts.
+ - She was great at dramatic head-turns.
+ - When excited, she'd sprint through the house, run up to a doorframe, and grab onto it with both paws. She'd then just stare at you. I have no idea what she was thinking.
+ - For a while, I would fall asleep while watching PBS on my TV near the bed. On more than one occasion, she would lay on my chest and sleep as well, but I could open my eyes and catch her watching the animals on Nature.
+ - At the last house in Columbia, she loved sleeping in the box window and watching over her domain in the back yard.
+ - She had major beef with one of the neighborhood cats in Columbia, Brandy, and would try to attack her through the window. That was actually kind of rough.
+ - At the St Louis house, she was very intrigued by the icemaker. She would get up and run when she heard it, then just sit and watch as it made more noises.
+ - She loved to lick her food bowl clean, and even figured out how to flip over the spoon with her paw so she could clear both sides.
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