Tales from the Bark Side

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, January 12, 2008

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where the fell winds of winter went somewhere. It's been almost balmy outside lately and the morning sun peaks over the horizon with golden splendor. What glorious weather with which we have been blessed. I trust you all have enjoyed it as much as we have here at Rosswood.

Last week, I wrote about my dogs and how they used logic to get their way. In the “Logic vs. Instinct” contest, you have to have both sides of the debate and this week we'll travel back in time to the summer of 1958. I lived on a 20-acre chicken ranch for the first 11 years of my life and had my fair share of adventures during that time.

We had dogs, geese, chickens (mandatory on a chicken ranch), horses, cattle, pigs, and of course, cats. In fact, I can't remember a time growing up when we didn't have a cat around. Of all the cats we had, Tommy was the only one to move with us; north to Bellingham, Wash.

There's a good reason why a solid black cat would move with the family dog (Lady) and four kids to the city … my mother. All other animals on the farm were either sold or given to close friends. She trained that cat to do just about anything she wanted the furry feline to do. Maybe, that's where I got my penchant for training animals.

Tommy was a rather smart cat but from my young perspective, he had one major flaw — he was a one-woman cat. We could only get close to him to feed him.

We moved from a small town of 868 people to the big city of 36,000. I loved the big city (a relative term here) but the jet black cat did not.

He hid inside most of the time and only went out when it was dark and quiet. He'd rather play hockey with a walnut on the linoleum kitchen floor for hours than go outside and play.

Mom had him rolling over and sitting up like a dog and he was content to be her favorite pet; Lady had us kids to shower her with affection. The arrangement worked out fine for all until ... it happened.

We first rented when we moved to Bellingham, but after a year of that, my dad decided to buy a house on a hill adjacent to a large wooded area that had a terrific view of the city lights. We loved it.

Evidently, Tommy did not. My father was going to start his job as a pipe fitter for an oil refinery in about two months so we took off on a long vacation (30 days) only one month after moving in.

The next door neighbors volunteered to feed Tommy by leaving food out for him every day. This lasted about two weeks until the neighbors went on vacation themselves for two weeks. Nobody fed darling Tommy.

He wasn't fond of the place, his mistress had abandoned him and there were neighborhood dogs sniffing around. That didn't sit well with him. He set out for the only place he thought we could be — back at the old address where we previously lived for a year.

We returned to find Tommy gone. Mom drove over to the old address and called out his name for what seemed like hours.

She stood in front of a gully that was adorned with blackberry bushes and overlooked a small creek. After her tiresome vigil, there came a soft meow from below her in the bushes. Tommy was found. He came to only her voice.

Did Tommy reason his way 10 miles across an unfamiliar city? Did he think out his situation and map out a route that would carry him through unknown neighborhoods, marinas, and downtown traffic noises? Was it instinct that drove him to a place he barely knew?

I think it was instinct. What do you think?

Write, e-mail, or phone your tale to me. The “Logic vs. Instinct” contest is under way and you can send your tales to me at info@rosswoodkennels.com or Keith Alan Ross, Richville, MN or phone me at 218-495-2195.

Keith Alan Ross writes from his home in New York Mills.