When I was 12 years old, my horse had a stroke and had to be put down. I looked out the window at his body, lifeless and lying in the corral. I watched as Socks, the matriarch of the barn cats, walked towards the body, followed by a single-file line of the other dozen-or-so kittens and cats. Watching from inside the house I thought, "Oh no, they're going to eat him." But I didn't interrupt. When the slow parade reached the body, the cats sat down about two feet away, in an arc, smelling and looking. After some time Socks stood up, turned around and walked back to the barn, followed in orderly procession by the others.
Even 30 years later I am touched by this memory.
This horse (Bourbon Jim was his name) had been a huge high-strung Thoroughbred, but he was gentle and considerate with the cats. Once when I came home from school I found three kittens on his back. I couldn't figure how they got up there. This kept happening until one day I saw: The little kittens, with their sharp little kitten claws, were climbing up his front legs and up over his sides to sit atop his back. Bourbon didn't even flinch.
ORIGINAL COMMENT
When I was 12 years old, my horse had a stroke and had to be put down. I looked out the window at his body, lifeless and lying in the corral. I watched as Socks, the matriarch of the barn cats, walked towards the body, followed by a single-file line of the other dozen-or-so kittens and cats. Watching from inside the house I thought, "Oh no, they're going to eat him." But I didn't interrupt. When the slow parade reached the body, the cats sat down about two feet away, in an arc, smelling and looking. After some time Socks stood up, turned around and walked back to the barn, followed in orderly procession by the others.
Even 30 years later I am touched by this memory.
This horse (Bourbon Jim was his name) had been a huge high-strung Thoroughbred, but he was gentle and considerate with the cats. Once when I came home from school I found three kittens on his back. I couldn't figure how they got up there. This kept happening until one day I saw: The little kittens, with their sharp little kitten claws, were climbing up his front legs and up over his sides to sit atop his back. Bourbon didn't even flinch.