With just a ribbon, they would make such a lovely gift!

Gift Basket Fuzz!

What a wonderful basket of curiosity! I can just imagine the mischief they can get into. How caring to go to the effort to socialize these little wild barn brats. If everyone would make this effort we could finally get the population under control. BRAVO!

Awwww….How cute they are all bungled up together like that! I remember when I was a kid, my grandmother’s barn cats (at one time she had over 20!) would have kittens in the bushels that were stacked up high. How they got up there was always a mystery to me. We’d take ladders and peak into them, but never touched the kittens becasue my grandmother was afraid the mother wouldn’t come back if she smelled our scent. Usually those kittens would be moved every so often by the mother, but we always found them again!

Such a sweet basket of sweetness.. They’re all adorable.
i want to be in that basket!

what little loves!

(squeee at the early posting!)

Gotta love babies at the unusual early hour

I’ll take two bushels, thank you.

Truly sweet! A tisket-a-tasket-a kitty-filled-basket….!

Awww!!! What a bunch of angels! Oh to be a cute kitten!

I wonder if they mew with a accent…lol

What a sweet bundle.

The eyes on that little sweetie in the front are just gaaaaawwwwwwgeous…

I, too, will take two baskets please.

I’ll take the WHOLE basket.

I will take the black and the grey ones in the front please

Chey

I would love to have them all — what a bunch of cuties. The black and the gray kittens look like they are ready to have some fun.

Smokey colored fuzzes–puffs of eternal joy. They are the promise of laughter, love and many good purrs. Imagine all the future mischif they will bring into the world. God bless them.

Fran

Ohhhhhh - a basket of furrrrrrr!!! How sweet they all look!!!

*New York Socialites Fuzz*

Did they have a ‘Coming Out’ party? (get it, socialized = socialite?) BOOOO, hhhiisssssssssss

Happy Thursday.

Ohhh, baskets of cuteness and love! I’d want to keep them all myself and just bury my face in the basket and cover them all with love and kisses.

It brings joy to my heart just to see all these little fuzzies.
I grew up on a farm in southeast NE. and we had barn kitties too. That was fun trying to find where momma cat hid them. We weren’t supposed to touch them either for fear our scent would put them in danger, but we were friends with the momma and fed her and the babies when they got big enough to come out and play. What a sweet little basket of joy!

*Variety pack FUZZ*

The black one up front is unbeleviable! auwwwwwwhhh

Love all the furry buddies. I will take one of the grey ones, please. I don’t think my current tuxedo cat, Sylvester would be too pleased though nor would my husband. Would be fun to find out though. (thinking mischevious thoughts brought on by mischievious looking fuzz buddies).

They are beautiful! I’m re-posting this great article about a barn cat in honor of today’s barn kittens.

*A Dog Man Gets a Cat*
I never liked cats much. Then Mother moved into my barn.
By Jon Katz

Mother on patrol
Before Mother, I was never much drawn to cats. They seemed slithery and remote. I have a farm, and cats didn’t appear to be useful.

I am partial to working dogs—especially border collies and Labradors—that can herd sheep, fetch sticks, hike with me, cuddle on the sofa, and swim in nearby streams. I didn’t really get having an animal you couldn’t herd sheep or take a walk with.

Then the rats came. They invaded my farm last summer, especially the big barns. They were fat—at first, I mistook one for a rabbit—arrogant, and fearless. The farmers told me there was nothing much to be done: Rats, naturally drawn to farms, were smart, hardy, and tough to get rid of, especially with other animals around.

They had countless holes in stone walls and rotted silos to nest in. They figured out traps. And I couldn’t spread poisons around a barnyard full of sheep, donkeys, chickens, and dogs. A farmer friend suggested a barn cat. He was about to weed out his own posse, and had one in mind for me, because she was used to dogs. She was young and scrawny and got her name—Mother—from her habit of caring for kittens, whether they were hers or not.

Where I live in upstate New York, barn cats are mythic. Elusive and reclusive, they prowl barns and pastures, sleep in haylofts, and make war on rodents and snakes.

They die often and—frequently—brutally, from disease and neglect, from attacks by predators like foxes and coyotes, from target practice by kids or hunters, or from the bites of rabid raccoons. They get hit by cars or, in the worst cases, waste away from starvation and exposure. When their numbers grow—few are spayed or neutered—they often are shot. Some of the softer farmers put heat lamps in their barns or let their barn cats into basements and mudrooms on subzero nights. Most don’t.

Did I need a barn cat?

Rose, my 2-year-old border collie, ran the farm and didn’t like cats. And a farm needs the right balance of animals. But the rat population was booming. So, with many misgivings, I agreed to take Mother. My neighbor drove her over in a cardboard box, a stringy, mottled brown and black creature that looked the worse for wear. I had the distinct feeling that if I hadn’t taken her, she wasn’t headed for a shelter.

Mother was surprisingly friendly. She took to me right away; she loved to be stroked and scratched, and she purred when she saw me. She was always ravenous and seemed astounded by the cans of cat food I ferried out to her in the barn. She was also instantly businesslike, scoping out the rats and the mice the second she arrived.

I took her to the vet and had her spayed, then put a collar on her, so strangers would know she was owned.

Rose was not hospitable. The minute Mother returned from the vet and entered the pasture, the dog roared down the pasture hill to drive off this mangy intruder.

It was one of Rose’s rare mistakes. Mother was not like the other animals Rose had encountered and dominated. The cat sat perfectly still until the charging border collie was about 4 inches away, and then she calmly turned and raked the dog’s nose with one sharp swipe of her paw. Rose is not one to make the same mistake twice. From that point on, even when Mother was right in front of her, Rose pretended not to notice her.

Taking a break from hunting
Mother staked out the barn and the barnyard right away, sashaying back and forth at the pasture gate, taunting the dogs, strutting her stuff, almost daring anybody to start something. Nobody did. Certainly not my two yellow Labs, who had witnessed the trouncing of Rose.

From Mother’s first day, the rodent carcasses began piling up. She left the first right by my back door—it was enormous. Daily offerings followed. This caused accompanying minor problems when my delighted, wagging Labs began bringing the corpses into the house. The pest population plummeted. I was impressed. This cat delivered.

Greeting Mother quickly became part of my morning routine. When I left a bowl of dry kibble in an empty stable, Mother was always waiting for me, purring, meowing, and circling. In the evening, I sometimes brought some tuna. I put out a de-icer bucket so that she would always have water, even on bitter cold nights. I learned one thing. As with dogs, sheep, and donkeys, food went a long way toward establishing a good relationship.

Mother seemed quite content in the barn. Unlike a dog, she had no need for or interest in sharing my life or staying by my side. Yet we had a real understanding. As winter approached, I worried about the cold even though Mother was filling out and growing a thicker coat. With a friend’s help, I made her a sort of igloo in the barn loft—a cozy construction of hay bales with a fuzzy blanket underneath.

Now that the deep winter is here, I sometimes wonder if I should keep Mother in the barn or let her into the house. Every dog I’ve ever had would come inside. But Mother doesn’t seem to care. She’s happy in her space and happy to leave me in mine. She is willing to accept occasional gifts—such as cans of tuna fish or cups of warm milk—but she doesn’t need my charity.

Every now and then she disappears for a day or two, and I go out to the barn anxiously, calling her name. You cannot, I realize, have it both ways. A barn cat is not really a pet. In the tradition of barn cats, she eventually reappears, and no one knows where she’s been or why.

I have not seen a live rat for months now. Once in a while, when I take out the garbage or leave the dogs behind to stroll under a full moon, Mother appears at my side and strolls along with me. “Hey, Mother,” I say. She never looks directly at me. She walks with her tail up, her eyes sweeping the darkness. Sometimes, I think she is keeping me company. And sometimes I get the feeling she is watching over me.

What a bunch of precious little sugars! I’m in line for a basket full of sweeties too!
Have a great day everyone!

A kitteh harvest!
CORNUCOPIA FUZZ

Great story Dee! Thanks

Dee, your story remided me of the first time we brought Katie home from a farm, she brought me two little mouses!!! I had no idea I had any mice in my home!!! I’m glad she got rid of them and continues to monitor the house for any bugs or spiders, anything that moves really. It’s funny how they bring it to you, as if it were a prize, or they are hunting for you. My great grandmother had a cat, an outside cat that would bring birds and mice that she’d caught and leave them on the front step for her, as if she were taking care of grandma.

Some of these are embarrassingly true!

*Signs That Your Cat Owns You*

At the store, you pick up the cat food and kitty litter before you pick
out anything for yourself.

You buy a video tape of fish swimming in an aquarium to entertain your cat.

The Christmas cards you send out feature your cat sitting on Santa’s lap.

Your cat signs the card.

You accept dates only with those who have a cat.

If so, you eventually double-date with the cats to see how they get along.

You climb out of bed over the headboard or footboard, so you won’t
disturb the sleeping cat.

You cook a special turkey for your cat on holidays.

You feed your cat tidbits from the table with your fork.

You give your cat presents and a stocking at Christmas.

You spend more for your cat at Christmas than you do for your spouse.

You have more than four opened but rejected cans of cat food in the refrigerator.

You have pictures of your cat in your wallet.

You bring them out when your friends share pictures of their children.

You kiss your cat on the lips.

You microwave your cat’s food.

You prepare your cat’s food from scratch.

You put off making the bed until the cat gets up.

You scoop out the litter box after each use.

You wait at the box with the scoop in your hand.

You select your friends based on how well your cats like them.

You sleep in the same position all night because it annoys your
cats when you move.

You think it’s cute when your cat swings on the drapes or licks the butter.

You watch bad TV because the cat is sleeping on the remote.

Your cat “insists” on a fancy Sunday breakfast consisting of an
omelette made from eggs, milk, and salmon, halibut, or trout.

Your cat eats out of cut crystal stemware because you both
watched the same commercial on television.

Your cat sits at the table (or ON the table) when you eat.

Your cat sleeps on your head.

You like it your cat sleeping on your head.

When people call to talk to you on the phone, you insist that they
say a few words to your cat as well.

When someone new comes to your house, you introduce your cat,
by name, to them.

You introduce your visitor (s) by name to your cat.

You stand at the open door indefinitely in the freezing rain while
your cat sniffs the door, deciding whether to go out or come in.

You would rather spend a night at home with your cat than go
out on a bad date.

I want to give them all hugs and kissess and call the George.

Oh! so cute!! I wish I had one. Hang on to them!

Ohmygosh………….do other people’s cats sleep on their heads too?!!! lol

A basketful of love! What precious little babies! May the Lord bless you and these sweeties always.

What an adorable basket of little beasties! I particularly like the little black one who is looking right at the camera.

They are so sweet! They look like several of my cats when they were kittens, especially the one in the back. It looks like my cat Maggie. I think it was Huddy’s Mama, said she would like the whole basket! Me too! Hugs & Kisses.

Better than a bouquet of flowers! And more beautiful! And more fun!!!

*Six Pack FUZZ 1000000000000000000000$*

A lovely collection of fuzzbutts (hope you don’t mind Brandi, I’ve”borrowed” your term of endearment.)

Hope you were able to fix mama cats. :))

New york kittens Ooooooooooooooh what cute!!!

Here is my barn kitten story. When I was a teenager we moved across the street from a farm. Me and my friends used to love to sleep in the hayloft. One moring I woke up thinking it was awfully early for the farmer to be running the tractor. When I opened my eyes, I saw that my head was surronded by little purring barn kittens. I will never forget that. Good luck with your new brood. I hope you find them all nice homes.

they are so cute

James in Colorado: (or anyone else in Colorado) Are you in the middle of that snowstorm?

There’s no better way to wake up than with kitties surrounding you! That’s a great story. And these barn babies are SO CUTE! I’d love to snuggle up in the hay with them. I’m sure they will bring you much joy and laughter!

They are SO cute!! I love them! I just want to cuddle up with them and give them hugs! I love how they have blue eyes!

Awww….These kittties are so cute. They should change a barrel of monkeys to a barrel of kitties! This picture’s so cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok I live in upstate NY and want to take them all! They’re adorable