3 Lives Left


We got her as a kitten.  7 weeks old.  My oldest son picked her.  The runt of the barn kitty litter.  Free.

And, she used up 6 of her nine lives in her first 24 hours at our house.  Sorry, Kitty.  Again.

Her first night here, we figured, she’s a barn cat’s baby.  She’s used to the barn.  It was a cold night, but not too cold, so the Animal Whisperer custom-made a cardboard box contraption with soft bedding for her to sleep in, gave her a bowl of water and put her in a closed off area of the chicken coop. 

Good night Kitty.

The next morning, 6-year-old and I race to the barn to see her.  She’s meowing!!!  How cute!!!  Until we see the cause of her mmmmmmrrrrrrrroooooooowwwwww.

We find her wedged with the edge of the cardboard box pressing down (hard) against her neck, strangling her.  Her front legs scissored out stick-straight in front of her.  Ooohhh, poor kitty.  I take her out and cuddle her and ask her if she’s OK. 

Nope.  Life #1.  Over.

Son and I sit on a bench by the barn and put her on the ground to walk.  She falls over to the right and arches her back unnaturally.  Can 7 week old kittens have a stroke?  Appears this one has. 

Life #2.  Gone.

Scoop her up.  Shout at son: “Go get that little medicine thing we use to squirt medicine into your mouth!”  He races away.  “And get water!

She was stuck under that box for who knows how long, she wasn’t able to drink any water!  She’s probably dehydrated, I deduce.

Kitty’s head is flopping around as I verge on shaken kitty syndrome to her to keep her awake…alive.  Son back.  I drip water into her mouth.

She revives.  For 2 minutes.

Life #3.  History.

Now, I’m contemplating the mechanisms of Kitty CPR.  I decide against mouth to mouth, but figure I could attempt some chest compressions.   She revives!  I’m getting cocky.  I’ve saved her 3 times.

I’m cocky long enough to watch her close her eyes in my hands, and become lifeless.  Totally lifeless.  Dead.

Life #4.  Finished.

Begin CPR.  If the Animal Whisperer can save things, SO CAN I.

She’s back.  I give her more water and a tiny bit of milk.

I hold her for a really long time.  Way longer than I’m known to sit still.  She’s OK.  I move her temporary headquarters from the garage to the kitchen.  She plays in the kitchen, almost running!  She’s better.  For good!

We move her back outside, set her feet on the garage floor.  Arch right.  Fall over.  Head back.  Feet extend.  Stops breathing.  Floppy.  Dead.

Life #5.  Fini.

Repeat.  CPR.  Revive.  Hold.  Cuddle.  Survives.  For 7 minutes.  Fades away. 

Life #6.  Done.

Repeat.  Again.  Chest compressions.  Again she revives. 

Animal Whisperer sets up a heat lamp in the garage.  He holds her.  He puts her under the heat lamp.  She doesn’t arch.   She doesn’t have a stroke.  She doesn’t die. 

She lives.  She drinks a little milk by herself.  She sleeps. 


He saved her!  Although I take most of the credit.

And, she hasn’t died since!

She hasn’t caught a mouse either.  And, she was diagnosed by the vet as a he.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady

About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Growing up, the closest thing I had to farm animals were a cat and a cockatiel. In 2009, Herbert (my husband) and I bought our first milk goat and I instantly became an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life..before I knew “urban homesteading” was a thing. That’s when we began The Goat Cheese Lady Farm, hence The Goat Cheese Lady blog you’re visiting now. After moving to the country in 2014, I embarked on life as a rural farmgirl. We continued teaching farm and cheesemaking classes, raising more goats and began construction on our cheese creamery. But life had other plans and in 2017, we decided that, due to financial and health issues, we had to close the farm for business. No more classes, no more creamery, a lot less milking. We went back to off farm jobs, I as an Occupational Therapist, Herbert in construction with his business, D&A Home Remodeling. At that point, I made a silent promise to myself that I would corral my entrepreneurial mind and focus on a job for a year. Well, it has been a year and I am back. Not to classes, cheese, soap or lotion, but back to writing. I love it. I’m not sure where it will lead me, but that’s where I’m starting. I’ll continue to write as The Goat Cheese Lady for now, and whatever the future holds, I’ll let you know. Our two boys are 14 and 11 and continue to be louder than my sister and I ever were. We have two dogs, Montaña and Flash, a cat, Jumpy, a flock of chickens and three goats. Yes, we still have Lucy, the goat who helped us start it all and was milked by over 1,000 people. She’s retired but still the boss. Chocolate provides enough milk for our family with some to spare for the dogs. Soccer friends, school friends, coyotes and mice are frequent visitors. There are way too many flies and every so often we see an owl. I’m glad you’re here. Sometimes you’ll laugh out loud, other times you’ll be inspired to appreciate the small things. My hope is that, over your morning cup of coffee or your afternoon work break, you’ll enjoy the antics and inspiration that are my daily life. Lindsey
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