Keeper of the litterbox

Little by little, the cats are getting me trained the way they want me.  Mama Kitty has her special feeding spot.  Her son Jake has also discovered it.  Oh yes, he starts out by eating his breakfast with the kittens, but then follows me out to the wing of the barn where his mother eats, waits for me to fill her dish, jumps up and head-butts her out of the way, and eats all he can of her food.  Why?  And why does she allow it?  

This is only the second time in my life I've dealt with a cat litter-box, the previous time being when I was single and lived in an apartment.  Scraping around in the litter every day for those stinky nuggets of poop is not my idea of fun; and how do two kittens make so much poop?  I notice the two of them seem to have some sort of tacit agreement that as soon as I'm done sifting the litter, one of them must immediately use the litter-box, as though they can't stand it to be lump-free for over five minutes.

How often is one supposed to throw the whole mess out and start over with clean litter?  When it starts stinking, I guess?  (Since posting this entry, a couple of my Facebook friends suggested I get the clumping kind of litter.)

We've been experiencing a very warm, dry autumn, the kind motorcycle riders dream about:  Every weekend the bikes roar past our place by the dozens.  Cliff mentioned it would be a good year to have a motorcycle, and I said, "I don't even miss it, these days."

"I really don't either," he responded.  We agreed that at some point it got to be too much effort to suit up and hit the road, dealing with idiots and taking our lives in our hands every time we left the house.  The whole world is on the phone or texting as they drive, paying no attention to what's happening around them.  We always avoided the freeways, but at times that was impossible.  Cliff would try to leave some room between us and the vehicle ahead of us, but when he tried, a car would squeeze into the space and there we would be, like a couple of sardines squeezed into a can with no margin for safety.

No wonder Cliff gets so angry when he has to drive in city traffic.  

Tomorrow we'll be going to a funeral.  My Aunt Mary died, the last of my aunts and uncles.  She lived to be 93, a life well lived.  A hard-working farmer's wife.  I spent lots of summertime hours at Uncle Leo's place as a kid.

BETHANY, MO: Mary E. Stevens, 93 (formerly of Eagleville) passed away Wednesday, November 16, 2016 at her home in Bethany, MO.

She was born November 17, 1922 in Brooklyn, MO the daughter of Thomas Milard and Jessie Lee (Larkin) Wilson.

On June 1, 1942 she married Austin Leo Stevens in Albany, MO and they resided on a farm in Eagleville, MO for many years.

Mary was a homemaker and a member of the Church of Christ in Eagleville, MO. She was a graduate of the Class of 1941 from Ridgeway High School, a Pawnee Peppers 4-H Club Leader, and a member of the Good Neighbors Club.

She was preceded in death by her parents; husband, Leo; and siblings, Sarah Isabell, Charles Wilbur, Max Everett, Doris, William Clayton, Susie Ann, Lewis, Gerald Lee, Fred, Leo, and Earl.

Survivors include children, Carolyn (Neil) Oxley, Omaha, NE, Betty Earnshaw, Oak Grove, MO, Ronnie Royce Stevens, Satanta, KS, Linda Elkins, Omaha, NE; 10 grandchildren, 17 great grandchildren, and 1 great-great grandchild.

Rest in peace, Aunt Mary.