Bear Branch University

Cats – All farms had a number of cats – ordinary house cats of mysterious bloodlines. We always had two distinct populations of cats – house cats and barn cats. Each population would vary from 5 or 6 to 12 or 15, depending on the time of year – kittens were born each spring.

The house cats were on welfare – they just hung around the house waiting for Mom to bring their food to them. The house tribe was fairly useless other than playmates for Johnnie and me.

The barn cats somewhat earned their keep by keeping rats and mice in check around the barn and granary. They would kill a few mice and an occasional rat, but I think their presence discouraged the rodents more than anything. The mother cats would hunt young rabbits and young squirrels – they dragged their prey back to the barn for their kittens to eat. We fed the barn cats some but less than the house cats received. Always a pan of milk was given to the barn cats after each milking. One thing some of the barn cats liked was getting a stream of milk squirted directly from cow to cat. The cat would get milk all over her face, but she loved it. This was the epitome of fresh milk – only a half second from producer to consumer.

Johnnie and I had a lot of fun playing with our house cats, though the cats didn't usually enjoy our games. One day Mom had washed a dresser mirror (18" x 24") and had laid it glass up on the lawn to dry. Johnnie and I knew that, if you dropped a cat upside down, it would flip over and land on it's feet – of course, you had to allow a little space between ground and cat. We decided to hold a cat over the mirror by the tail and see his reaction. It was a clear day, and I guess that mirror looked like a hole to China to the cat. When we dropped the cat over the mirror, it wouldn't land on the glass – it splayed out all four feet to get them on the wood mirror frame. We thought this was funny, but Mom caught us doing this and put a stop to the prank. She thought her clean mirror was being soiled by cat feet – we assured her that the cat kept her feet clear of the glass. Nevertheless, Mom ended our fun – she was sure we were abusing the cats. Children are cruel.

Another cat story. We had a rose bush near a woven wire fence around our yard. There was a sort of tunnel under the rose bush by the fence. One day, Johnnie and I decided to tie a balloon on a cat's tail and make the cat pass through the tunnel. Of course, the balloon popped as soon as it contacted the rose bush – then the cat sped on out of the tunnel. This time we were so proud of our prank that we called Mom out to see another episode. We told Mom that the process was just like firing a cannon – put the powder (balloon) and projectile (cat) in the breech of the cannon (rose bush tunnel) and watch it get shot out of the barrel. Again, Mom stopped the fun – she accused us of being mean to the cats. She was probably correct – we had to use a new cat for each shot.

Dad was a stickler for Johnnie and me to use proper English. He got all over us for using "ain't" and some Bear Branch "words" like "tooken". However, Dad had a few slips in language himself; he pronounced "kitchen" as "kinchen", also "button" was "bunton". One spring when a litter of house kittens was several weeks old, Johnnie and I named one of the kittens "kinchen" and another one "bunton". Dad said, "Those are unusual names for kittens. Where did you boys get those names?" Mom knew exactly where we got those names but it wasn't safe to make fun of your father in those days. I am sure that Dad would have spelled those words correctly in writing – he just had a glitch in pronunciation.