Goodbye Floyd :(

Until recently, I always considered myself more of a dog person. But living in rented homes with no furry friends for the past five years has changed my mind. I would much rather have a cat for a pet than a dog. You may remember I wrote a column petitioning for a pet last spring. I still don’t have one. Instead I have Nate and Jake, which is actually a lot like having a pet. It seems like all I do is feed and clean up after those two. Every week, I seek Clark County’s pet of the week ad and I have to suppress the urge to go rescue whatever cute critter they feature that week.

But I’ve maintained self control. A big reason for that is Floyd, a barn cat. Floyd is actually more Nate’s cat than mine. Floyd (a.k.a. Stanley Floyd) lived in the barn with the milk cows. Unlike many other barn cats, especially toms, he was very friendly and very spoiled. Floyd arrived on the Eckert farm by accident. A neighbor called and told them one of their cats was there. When they picked him up, they found a friendly black and white kitten. He really wasn’t theirs, but they agreed to take him until someone claimed him. No one ever did.

It’s a sad fact, but many cats, especially males, get dumped in the country. People get a cute kitten in the spring, and by fall, they’ve grown out of the cute stage. They don’t want to pay to get them neutered so they dump them off. Farmers often take pity on these abandoned creatures, like Nate and his dad did. However, my guess is many freeze, get hit on the road, or become some coyote’s easy snack.

Whoever dumped off Floyd should know they missed out on the neatest cat I’ve ever met. As he got older, he grew and grew, a result of the fresh whole milk he drank twice a day. He turned out to be a monster of a cat and was king of the barn, as other toms found out when they attempted to invade.

Floyd also had a unique method of catching birds. He would climb up into the rafters of a shed and wait for them to land on the ridge opening. He would then spring up and snatch some unsuspecting sparrow from the air. Although some toms turn mean, Floyd was unique. He loved to nuzzle and be petted. Sometimes we would come into the barn to find him wet and sticky because he would let a cow lick him. Floyd was also a little helper and would follow people up and down the barn as they did chores. This fall, Floyd adopted three fuzzy kittens. It was quite a sight to see the fur balls following him around the mangers like a mother goose and her goslings. Nate and Floyd had a special bond. They would carry on “conversations.” He always claimed Floyd could say his ABCs. I just thought it was amusing to hear a 25-year-old man meow.

Unfortunately Floyd is no longer with us. His curiosity got the better of him Monday when he climbed up under a truck and rode it out the driveway. He tried to jump as it started down the road, and that was the end of poor Floyd. Nate is heartbroken, and I’m pretty down about it, too. I’d like to find Nate a kitten for his upcoming birthday, but I don’t think we’ll ever find another Floyd.