Yesterday had sort of an interesting start. I got up. Still snow. In fact, I think it had snowed just a bit more than before, maybe another inch or so. No freeze, however, so I went out to feed.
I walked out to the barn where we store the hay. Husband has made a little "kitty cave", setting the bales in such a way as to make a hole for the cats to be warm. I had to get a new bale down, so I moved a bale in no way connected to the "kitty cave".
Or so I thought.
I am about 5 and 1/2 feet tall. The bales are stacked about 7 foot high. So, getting one from the top, I basically yard on the bale, get it to the tipping point, and let it fall. This works fine. Usually. However, for some unknown reason, it snagged another bale. Which pushed over another bale. Which fell in the "kitty cave". With Mama Cat in it.
My first thought. Oh G*d, I just killed Mama Cat!
I lunged for that bale, tried to lift. There are differences between men and women... One being upper body strength. I was in an awkward position, and couldn't lift the bale. I started digging. That only made the bale shift. Various swear words ensued. I then decided to call Husband, he could at least lift the bale, so I could get her crushed little body out. I called Husband on the cell, (for once, actually an item useful, I find it only useful as a flashlight in the chicken house. Otherwise, eh...), and through my blubbering and snotty nose, he gathered something was wrong, and I needed help with the hay bales.
I tried, and then slipped on the hay. This gave me just enough twist to shift the bale over AND up some. I look under the bale, and there's Mama Cat. Looking at me, and sniffing the bale over her head. After some blurbled coaxing, she came out.
Husband was highly confused when he came out, I called needing help with hay and a cat, he came out to see me holding Mama Cat, and blurbling only slightly more coherently. I explained what happened, and he just nodded, with the slightly glazed expression he gets when he knows his wife has gone into the coo-coo zone, and he needs to just "listen to the crazy lady." I was busy checking that Mama Cat didn't have any torn up spots or broken anything, when husband pointed out the bale had fallen in such a way, as to leave a nice large triangle for her. She probably was only confused about why the lights went out, not about being crushed...
I finally settled down to get the rest of the feeding finished, and I noticed Husband was pulling down some bales from on top. He's not stupid, bales on the ground= less crazy lady.
This isn't the first time I almost, or thought it was almost, an end game for Mama Cat. I am thinking she is down at least 4 or 5 lives at this point. (Being that she is around 17 years old, I guess this isn't too bad.)
Mama Cat has been looking at me funny today, can't imagine why. I just have been giving her extra hugs, and talk every second I see her. I think I recognize the expression, however. Looks sort of like Husband's.
Can't imagine why...