For as long as he can remember, Oliver's life has been spent among the generous pine and oak trees, in the freedom of open fields, and the annoying clutch of a few small country children. These many acres of meadows and forests have been Oliver's home, even though the family that lives in the farmhouse by the road would probably tell you otherwise. You see, the Man of the House has never bothered Oliver with sympathetic words or condescending head pets. Instead, he takes it upon himself, each winter, to outfit the garage with a heated mat for cozy naps, the garden pond with an electric de-icer for unlimited drinks, and the potting shed with a tall bucket of dry cat food for reliable meals. In this way, Oliver's life as a country barn cat has been made as respectable as any.
With unrestrained freedom, and typical cat-curiosity, Oliver would sometimes travel to neighboring farms for a visit. But he always found his way back to the farmhouse by the road with its exemplary provisions and attentive children. As irksome as children can be to a cat, Oliver displayed tremendous patience with them and bonded with them properly. Even when they would take a brush to his coat to painfully dislodge snarls, Oliver endured the treatment bravely, as if he somehow knew it was for his betterment.
Although Oliver has no memory of an orientation meeting, and remembers not the signing of any paperwork, it was somehow successfully explained to him from the start that he must earn his keep. His job description was as follows: The garden must be protected from squirrels and bunnies at all times. The farmhouse is to be guarded fiercely from mice. And the Man of the House is to be notified immediately as to the intrusion of raccoons in the shed, and of their audacity to eat his food.
This was usually accomplished by finding the Man of the House immersed in a project in the workshop, then hopping up upon the workbench to meow relentlessly until he would have no choice but to stop what he was doing and follow Oliver to the shed. A few pops of the BB gun are typically all that are needed to scare the raccoons away so Oliver can comfortably resume his meal.
One of the many perks of Oliver's job is to accompany the family on their nature walks. As the years passed and Oliver's confidence grew, he figured the family would appreciate his vast expertise on the trails and lay-out of the land. They might get lost without him, and Oliver couldn't take that risk. So he oftentimes would join them on their trek for their own good. They were on his turf, after all.
Yes, the years did pass. The children grew. But Oliver maintained his loyalty to the family in the farmhouse by the road. Even when other cats came and went, he learned to tolerate their annoying presence. Like Regal, the house cat, for instance, who would sometimes get bored with his pampered life within the oppressive confines of the house, so the family would let him out to explore the backyard.
At first, Oliver was suspicious of Regal, and would cautiously sniff him, Regal defensively sniffing back. Oliver's conclusions? He was puny and strangely pristine. Ignorant of outdoor life. He had clean, white paws, half the size of Oliver's, and a bright pink nose. Oliver knew he could easily tear Regal to shreds, but no bragging rights would be earned. Such a dense house cat wouldn't be worth it. So he appeased him with a few controlled wrestling matches in the cool grass. Regal giving it his all, of course. But Oliver simply indulging Regal, knowing that he'd soon cry wolf and would be let back into the luxurious house to be coddled like a baby by one of the children.
One summer day, as Oliver was resting in a shady spot in the garden while the Mama of the House was quietly pulling weeds nearby, Oliver heard a strange noise. When he looked up a beautiful Calico he had never seen before caught his eye. He had met various female cats at the surrounding farms over the years, but she was new to the neighborhood. Where she came from and who she owned, Oliver never knew. Sometimes cats are forced to find new families, and Oliver understood that. So being the gentleman he was, he showed her to the potting shed where the food dish was faithfully filled each day, and approvingly stood by as the family got acquainted with her. The Mama of the House named her Beatrice, and Oliver liked her.
Maybe it was a mid-life crisis, maybe it was Beatrice's presence, the family didn't know, but it was observed that summer that Oliver had a spring in his step. He was keeping his long coat cleaner, and his spirits brighter. He had hoped to be accepted by Bea, but she was too entangled with her other suitors to notice poor Oliver. A lady of the night, as he soon learned her to be, as she had two litters of kittens that summer, and would most of the time be off for secret rendezvous. Oliver bore this rejection stoically, and returned to his responsibilities, ashamed he ever fell for her in the first place.
By now there were new cats to tolerate. The new, immature, unintelligent kittens. Oliver always seemed to possess innate street-smarts when it came to navigating highways. But unfortunately not all cats are blessed with the ability to rise to the challenge of independent country life. Not to mention the kittens were mostly unmonitored by their slack mother, therefore a few were lost to the dangers of the road.
One kitten stood out among the rest, however. A tiny tan and cream-colored fluff ball the children named Coconut. Bursting with boundless energy, always wanting to play, and constantly getting on Oliver's nerves, Coconut was the new kid on the farm. He seemed to have the family enraptured. They would scold Oliver for hissing at Coconut when in his foolish kitten-judgment he would cross the line, and Oliver was only trying to teach him his place. He felt this was unfair, of course, but still faithfully tended to his duties. His warm bed in the garage and full dish in the shed being his only thank-you's.
As autumn descended upon the farm, the family's schedule seemed busier than ever and Oliver rarely saw the children. He knew they were growing up, but missed running wild and free with them down the trails. Coconut, too, was growing up and becoming stronger. Conversely, Oliver was slowing down with age. He sensed winter was coming, and noticed a heated bed was put out for Coconut, as was done for him many years ago.
One night, Oliver was out hunting in the fields, as he had done countless times before, and always had either the strength to overcome, or the quickness to outrun an enemy. But this time, in an unfortunate encounter, Oliver was in over his head. Confused and surrounded, he succumbed to injuries from a hard fight, and hobbled his way to safety. By the time the confusion cleared, and morning dawned, the deed had been done. His leg was broken. From the family he received extra portions of soft, canned food, much sympathy and attention, and the false hope that given time he would heal up good as new. But as the winter months passed, Oliver continued to favor that leg, never putting any weight on it. It eventually atrophied.
Now elderly and in his final years, Oliver knows the farm responsibilities must be handed over to a new generation. Someone young and strong, with a sense of loyalty to the farmhouse by the road. He's got his eye on Coconut. He never seems to wander too far off, and Oliver notices how meaty, fast and tough he's become. Yes, he will do splendidly. But before Oliver feels comfortable to commit the overseeing of the family and the land over to him, there are a few tests Coconut must first pass.
Winter melts into spring, as Oliver watches carefully over Coconut. He catches mice and guards the garden. He learns his way around the forests and meadows. He's tolerant of the children, and tolerant of Regal. Oliver is pleased when he observes how Coconut handles his first invasion of raccoons, running up to the door and meowing frantically until the Man of the House comes out with his gun. But the day Oliver was waiting for finally came. The last test.
On the first warm day of spring, when everything smelled fresh and the crocuses were poking their nosy little heads out of the newly thawed ground, the Mama of the House along with the children came bounding out the door, taking off for their beloved trails in the sunshine. Oliver can't climb trees or run fast anymore, but managed to position himself on a hill to observe what would happen. Just as the family approached the orchard, Coconut appeared and took off running wild and free with some of the children down the trails. Oliver knew the baton had been passed.
Feeling confident in Coconut inheriting his duties, and feeling satisfied with his good, long life, Oliver slowly found his way over to the shade of a tree he grew up climbing, laid his tired body down and breathed his last. He knew his family and his land were in good hands, and so he was comforted as he passed. The family grieved, as they always knew they would when this day arrived. They breathed a word of thanks, as they placed Oliver's body in the ground, for his lifelong loyalty to their family.
And now, a new generation of squirrel-chasing, mice-catching, land-supervising, children-tolerating, and trail-racing has dawned. The family is older and wiser, yet their hearts are open to loving a new barn cat, and the farmhouse by the road will always need one. Coconut never remembers an orientation meeting, or the signing of any paperwork, yet he instinctively knows he must earn his keep. His home is the fields, the trees and the meadows, even though the family would probably tell you otherwise. He has his warm bed for cozy naps. He also has the silent, comforting company of the Man of the House when he's immersed in a project in the workshop. Coconut knows he can find a place to sit and watch without being bothered by sympathetic words or condescending head pets.
Yes, Coconut's life as a country barn cat will be as respectable as any.
Epilogue:
Although this is based on a true story, and Oliver is elderly, he has not yet passed away. I took some writer's liberty and imagined his ideal passing moment. We are keeping him as loved and as comfortable as we can.
Thanks for reading Oliver's story,
~ Courtney
