We own one St.Bernard and are owned by four cats.

Yeah, I know my place.

However, I also know it is my place to make sure the cats don’t do things they don’t realize are incredibly stupid .. it’s like being the best man during the Stag night before the Wedding. You have to let the groom have a good time but nothing that will bit him in the ass later in life. He has to face his wife the next day, sober and steady.

So, three of four of our cats are rescue cats.

We found them outside, in rough shape, needing assistance.

Our first, Velcro, was an adult, with a collar who was starving. Now she’s a content fat lump in charge of the entire house.

Our second, Tanit, was a little ball of nerves who we believe was still with her litter in the corn field across the street and ended up under our house, when the corn was taken off. She’s still a tiny thing, and rather on edge, but we love her all the same.

Our third cat, and only male, Storm, was taken home from my mother-in-law. She adopted two cats – one was pregnant. So we took one to slightly reduce the sudden increase in cat in their house. He is our only, non-rescue cat.

The fourth, Yina, we adopted not too many weeks later, when my wife found the grey puff ball sitting behind the tire of our truck. That one wasn’t even close to weaned, but was very friendly. She played with Storm as they grew, which meant less work for us in raising, but always wanted to be like the ‘big cat’. Now she is a short legged, still looks like a kitten, fat ball of grey fur. From the back – very much like the ‘big cat’.

None of our cats are outdoor cats. One of the reasons is that living in farm country, there are too many possible predators; foxes, dogs, coyotes. Another reason is that the street running in front of our place is a dirt road that people zip down – fast. We have lost a number of chicken to cars on this road and trust me… it is probably easier to see a chicken on the road than a cat – well maybe not Velcro, it’s hard to miss that massive backside.

Anyway – to the point. The three rescue have no driving desire to be outside. If we are siting on the back porch, they might slip out and sit in the garden right beside and play ‘jungle cat’ but they really don’t want to be out alone or far. They know outside holds, fear, trauma, danger, and uncertainty.

Storm, on the other hand, never spent time outside. He’s always been an indoor cat and, before Yina came along, the St. Bernard, Hera, was his best friend and play buddy. So, Hera gets to go outside when she want, and outside is where the small flying things are and the mice, and all the smells and ….

Storm WANTS OUT!

Storm wants out so bad he will dart out when the door is opened to feed the chickens. Usually we can dissuade him, block his attempt, or stomp out and bring him back – usually. Sometimes though, we miss him going out; it happens to my wife more than me. This is simply because I’m more of a meanie and Storm knows if I catching going out the door – his nose gets bopped. Still, it may seem like a hard thing to do – miss a cat shooting by, but you are dealing with chickens swarming the door hoping for corn, dog trying to get in, or out, and a bit afraid of the throng of fowl. In all this, it is possible to not see the cat slip out.

Yesterday, at some point probably around six when the dog went out, or in, Storm went out. We didn’t notice. We didn’t notice until eight-thirty, other wise known as ‘Kitty Treat Time!’ We should have noticed. We should have realized the house was too quiet. Storm is the one that gets Tanit to play (which is great) and he’s the one who gets bored.

So we call ‘kitty treats’ and there is no Storm. We check the house, knowing damn well that if he was inside he’d have come already. Having spent formative years being raised adoring a puppy, he learned that you come when your name is called (he also wags his tail when he’s happy). So we know he’s out, but usually when he’s out for a period of time, he wants in and meows at the front door. No cat. We call. No cat. Finally the dog finishes her dinner and I let her outside (as is the routine). Suddenly – cat!Yeah, he was waiting. He knew she’d be coming out and then he could play with her. It’s fun to watch, despite the fact he shouldn’t be outside. A prancing cat and a gallomping St. Bernard playing all over the 1/2 acre yard. Well I let them play for a bit and called the dog back. She came, the cat came…but only so far. He wouldn’t come within five feet of me. I sent Hera out to play with Storm again and waited. My wife came out and we waited, after a while I called Hera back once more. Storm still stayed back, but my wife was able to meander over and scoop him up.

Stupid cat… however, I’m starting to think for both the dog’s fun and the chance to better control when the cat goes out, and have a better chance of getting him in if he does slip out, of just carrying him out and allowing the two of them supervised play for half and hour.

Clearly – I’m crazy. That was, however, probably obvious at the point where I admitted I had one St. Bernard and four cats so….