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Cats have a purpose

February 13, 2009
By Kerry Hoffman

Being the farm boy that he is, Steve has this antiquated belief that all animals should live outside on veritable subsistence.

I should change that.

He used to believe that all animals belong in the great outdoors.

I have slowly, but surely, broken down those walls. I think he loves having animals in the house as much as I do.

You should see him with Lilly, the Great Dane, and Bob, the Wonder Dog. He spoils them rotten.

We also have a cat in the house Goog. Steve spoils her too. He gets great humor out of teasing her, at night, in our bed, when I am trying to get to sleep. He puts his hand under the covers on top of my body and gets the cat to pounce on certain areas. He's evil.

When I first brought Louie home, a stray from that small town on 68 west of New Ulm, she wasn't very friendly. She was not comfortable with people at all. All she did was hiss at us.

In fact, she still hisses at us and refuses to let anyone pet her. Yes, I sometimes call her the "b-word."

But what a cat she has turned out to be!

Living on a farm and using a corn burner is a guarantee for one thing mice! And lots of them.

I haven't really seen any running across the living room floor, but the basement is another story.

Goog has been spending a lot of time down there lately. I just thought she had other issues; the litter box is down there.

But, she brought me a gift last Sunday morning.

A de-gutted mouse. Make that a baby de-gutted mouse.

I found it under the chair by the kitchen island.

That very night, I went to bed early because I had to get up to help with chores the following day. When I was just about asleep, I heard an earsplitting banging.

Russell was trying to kill a mouse that Goog was playing with. He apparently chased it through the entire house bathroom, living room, dining room, kitchen before it finally succumbed to the Libman broom. Now there is a marketing tool you can sweep and slaughter mice with our brooms. According to Russell, Goog thought it more of a toy than a natural instinct to rip the mouse's throat out.

Tuesday afternoon Steve found another dead mouse upstairs. Now that is enough to gross me out. Who knows where the snooty Goog was carrying the dead mouse as a prized trophy.

So far, Goog has eliminated three baby mice. She really needs to think about the mother mouse. Taking care of the mother mouse should force the father mouse to go looking in other territories for "ya-know."

The little rodent that Russell killed was properly disposed of by opening the door and flinging it. Obviously it wasn't flung hard enough. Monday morning, on my way to work, I just about flattened it as it lay in the middle of the side walk.

See, Steve spoils the outside cats so much they don't even come looking for carrion. Apparently they gorge themselves on milk and dog food. The barn cats are rather disgusting creatures except for Tripod and Mitch. They are both disabled, but look the best out of all the felines. Tripod, appropriately, has three legs. Mitch is blind in one eye and deaf.

Steve must spoil those two cats as much as he spoils Goog in the house. I better be careful, he may bring Mitch and Tripod into the house to hunt mice.

For questions, or comments, e-mail me at You can also read previous columns on my blog:



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