Goodbye, Fiona

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Autumn 

Fiona, a small brindle feline who has been a fixture at Rock's Roost for the past five years or so, died on the road that runs in front of my house the night before last.  She was the victim of a hit-and-run driver. 

Fiona, a barn cat, leaves behind a daughter, Cammie, who is a house cat in Merriam, Kansas, and at least two other offspring in the Kansas City area along with some grand-kittens.  Four of her offspring are also living at Rock's Roost:  Jimmy, an adult yellow tomcat who regards the entire neighborhood as his home, and a nameless adolescent yellow tomcat and two half-grown nameless kittens of undetermined gender, one yellow and one black.   Fiona also has descendants who are working barn cats across a wide swath of the Ozarks.

She was a great "mouser," and from several reports, so are many of her progeny.

I retired to The Roost in late March of 2014.  At the time I arrived back in the Ozarks, snow and ice were on the ground and much of the land surrounding my house was overgrown and in dire need of a mowing.  I soon learned that the fields were full of mice in the warm months, but when the cold set in, the mice began looking for better accommodations and headed into the barn, chicken coop, garage, and even the house.  I would need a cat!

My niece, Tiffany, brought me a young cat from her home in northwest Arkansas, but the cage that she was transporting it in fell apart as she was bringing the cat to the house, and the scared kitty ran for the hills!  I saw it once or twice later, but the poor cat eventually moved on.  I hope that he found a place that he liked better.

Then my neighbor, Doug, brought by a young brindle kitten one evening.  Doug grew up in the house where I live, and when it came time for him to leave home, he went across the road and built a house there - so he is anxious to see that his boyhood home gets all of its needs met.  I don't know if the kitten Doug brought over that night was Fiona or not, because the next evening he brought over a second one, identical to the first, from the same litter.  Soon one of those kittens disappeared (that happens a lot in the country), and after the remaining one proved to be a girl, I named her Fiona.

I feed the cats twice a day, once in the dark at 4:00 a.m. and a second time at dusk.  They know their schedules and are always at the feeding spot waiting impatiently for their grub.  Yesterday Fiona missed breakfast, something that never happens, and then I did not see her throughout the day.  I did look up and down the road a couple of times, but didn't spot her.  When she missed her dinner I went out looking for her.  As I got to the road, I met Doug bringing her stiff remains from he far end of his property.  We talked for a couple of moments, and then I brought the old girl home for the final time.

Fiona was an outdoor cat who basically kept the mice away from the buildings.  She was very good at her job.

Fiona would march around the farm with her tail straight in the air with a curl at the end - like a long, thin question mark.  I named her after Fiona Gallagher of Shameless, another cat who was always prancing around with her tail in the air.

This has been a hard autumn at Rock's Roost.  The little red hen died of old age several weeks ago, and now Fiona.  That is the nature of life in the country, animals are born here and they die here.  There is joy and there is sorrow - and life and the seasons go ever onward.

Fiona left her mark on this neighborhood and on my meager existence.  Rest in peace, Old Friend, and know that you will be missed for a very long time.