Indiana Jones Lives in My Barn!

Whoa...not THE Indiana Jones. Not Harrison Ford (I wish) but a kitty named "Indy".



Fourteen years ago, when our barn was complete, we decided to "allow" a litter of kittens to christen our barn. Misty gave birth to a tough little gray tiger and he was an explorer. The kids were trying to think of a suitable name and I said, "Well, he's the first one to find the pasture, think of an explorer's name." Geesh, what have I done? Thinking I had made a huge mistake I expected to have a cat named "Christopher Columbus" or "Amerigo Vespucci"! But, thank goodness, they thought of "Indiana Jones". Whew.



Well, Indy is old now. He's the last of a line of barn kitties that's stretched almost 14 years. He spent last winter and this spring in the tack room on an old fuzzy dog bed under the heat lamp. Litter box, two catered meals a day and turns around the barn aisle and yard is his daily fare.



He's still a happy cat though and is content in thinking, with the dogs gone and the horses not worth considering, he's still king of the farm. A purr and a head bump is his way of letting you know you're a good subject and you're lucky to have lived under his reign.



Ya know, when I come back some day...I want to come back as one of my cats.