Peanut became part of our farm family last Christmas Eve. My daughter thought it a good idea to bring him over for our family’s Christmas celebrations. What none of us was expecting is for Peanut to take the first opportunity given to him to escape and hide.
That’s right. The moment my daughter placed him on the ground, for a moment, to see his reaction, he ran under the house. Nothing we tried could bring him in arm’s reach. There and then, he determined his destiny. He would be a farm cat.
It took him three days to come close to any human contact. It was hunger that brought him to a place of surrender. Since then, each morning starts with the same ceremony. The meowing starts before we are fully awake. It doesn’t stop until there’s food on his plate. Don’t consider feeding him a different menu, he will turn his head, walk away and be vocal about it.
Peanut is not the average farm cat. He spent too much of his life in the city in an apartment. Although life on a farm means freedom, he doesn’t want to embrace a farm cat’s life. Our bantam chickens killed a mouse that was in their coop, our Jack Russell pup caught a mouse, but Peanut, confronted by one, runs the opposite direction.
He also has an evening ritual. As soon as we sit down, he will climb on my husband’s lap for a while then on my lap. If we have visitors, they too will participate in Peanut’s evening habits. No one is left out.