Friday – Cat Fishing
Feb. 19th, 2010 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
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My 5 year old son, Sweet Pea, wants to go back to my friend Sandy’s farm, he told me. He liked fishing for cats there, and he wants to do it again.
You may be wondering how a person fishes for cats. My son could explain it to you, if you asked him, just like he had to explain it to his father.
”The cats live under the trailer,” he would tell you. “You put some cat food in a bowl with a string on it. The kitties will sniff and the bowl and then you pull the string a little bit. You keep doing that until the kitties come out.”
The skirting around the bottom of Sandy’s trailer is a little the worse for wear. There are sections of it that are missing, including a large triangular shaped hole beneath her kitchen window. This hole is a great place to go cat fishing. Sandy takes in strays, and one of her strays has blessed her with a litter of kittens. Mama cat and her brood live under the trailer. There are bowls of food and water set at the edge of the triangle, just beneath the trailer. One of these bowls is a plastic bowl that may have once held margarine. A hole has been punched in the side of this bowl and a nylon cord has been threaded through it so that you can fish for baby cats.
“I thought you might want to know that your son just disappeared underneath the trailer,” my college roommate, Chris, said to me, “My daughter is with him.” We walked over and peered into the triangle.
“Hey! What are you doing under there? Get out here right this minute!” Chris called. The kids were crouched beneath the trailer holding the bait-bowl, which they set down as far back as they could reach without obviously retreating further beneath the house and incurring the wrath of their parents, and then scampered out.
“We’re putting food under there to try to get the kittens to come out,” Chris’ 8 year old daughter reported.
I watched what they did. The kids stared intently into the gloom beneath the house and once in a while they would slowly pull on the nylon cord then stop when the kittens stopped following. Eventually they did manage to lure one of the kittens out and Chris’ daughter carried it around clutched to her chest until it managed to wiggle free and return to join its littermates under the trailer house.
“I liked fishing for cats,” Sweet Pea told his father a few nights later, “I want to go back so I can do it again.”
“Were they cat fish?” Jeff asked.
“No, they weren’t fish, just regular cats. We fished for them.”
“Good thing they were doing catch and release,” I said, “Knowing how you feel about cats.”
“Good thing,” Jeff agreed.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
My 5 year old son, Sweet Pea, wants to go back to my friend Sandy’s farm, he told me. He liked fishing for cats there, and he wants to do it again.
You may be wondering how a person fishes for cats. My son could explain it to you, if you asked him, just like he had to explain it to his father.
”The cats live under the trailer,” he would tell you. “You put some cat food in a bowl with a string on it. The kitties will sniff and the bowl and then you pull the string a little bit. You keep doing that until the kitties come out.”
The skirting around the bottom of Sandy’s trailer is a little the worse for wear. There are sections of it that are missing, including a large triangular shaped hole beneath her kitchen window. This hole is a great place to go cat fishing. Sandy takes in strays, and one of her strays has blessed her with a litter of kittens. Mama cat and her brood live under the trailer. There are bowls of food and water set at the edge of the triangle, just beneath the trailer. One of these bowls is a plastic bowl that may have once held margarine. A hole has been punched in the side of this bowl and a nylon cord has been threaded through it so that you can fish for baby cats.
“I thought you might want to know that your son just disappeared underneath the trailer,” my college roommate, Chris, said to me, “My daughter is with him.” We walked over and peered into the triangle.
“Hey! What are you doing under there? Get out here right this minute!” Chris called. The kids were crouched beneath the trailer holding the bait-bowl, which they set down as far back as they could reach without obviously retreating further beneath the house and incurring the wrath of their parents, and then scampered out.
“We’re putting food under there to try to get the kittens to come out,” Chris’ 8 year old daughter reported.
I watched what they did. The kids stared intently into the gloom beneath the house and once in a while they would slowly pull on the nylon cord then stop when the kittens stopped following. Eventually they did manage to lure one of the kittens out and Chris’ daughter carried it around clutched to her chest until it managed to wiggle free and return to join its littermates under the trailer house.
“I liked fishing for cats,” Sweet Pea told his father a few nights later, “I want to go back so I can do it again.”
“Were they cat fish?” Jeff asked.
“No, they weren’t fish, just regular cats. We fished for them.”
“Good thing they were doing catch and release,” I said, “Knowing how you feel about cats.”
“Good thing,” Jeff agreed.
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