The Old Mill

 I took traps to the old Thompsons Mill state heritage site over a week ago, for them to feed in and under.  I took a drop trap and one large live trap.

I have always loved the old mill, but it was missing something and now I feel its complete, now that it has cats.   It is a place full of history, remembrance and soul now even more so.  Alive. Living. Complete.  

The cats come up into the basement, so myself and the volunteer carried the equipment down some steep stairs.  Same when we caught the cats last night, although she insisted on carrying them up those stairs, for my safety.

I thought I had a rescue lined up to take the three kittens, but after trapping them, I knew it wouldn't be.  They're much older than I thought--at least four months, and one of the three almost looks pregnant.

I set up a drop trap for them to feed under and a large live trap tied open.

It's a working water powered grain mill, now a state heritage site.  I've visited several times before.  I love the quirky innovations there, like a dumb waiter elevator for people--counter balance your weight and pull yourself up or down with a cable.   Like the ceiling level metal pipes with drilled holes filled with candle wax as a fire sprinkler system.  I could go on and on.  It is full of the kind of old fashioned innovations that fascinate me.

You can hear the rushing water of the mill race that runs beside and under part of the basement in this video I took last night, when there to catch the cats.   I caught the three kittens and Silly, the muted calico adult, fast in live traps.  As fast as I could set them.

The big buff boy I drop trapped.   We hadn't seen Milly, the tame classic torti but suddenly the volunteer saw her run by, and almost as quickly, heard the trap snap shut, set on the other side opposite the drop trap.   That was six caught when she went in the trap.   The seventh cat is far shyer and rarely seen so I left traps set and left with the six cats.

The volunteer checked them just past 8 and she was in one of them.  I drove back down and got her.  Done there, except for returning them Tuesday.

I lost my Shady last night, very late, maybe it was after midnight.  I knew she was going.  I had determined it wasn't fair to keep her alive like I was doing with twice daily sub cu fluids.   She went very fast.   

Shady came from the 120 or so cats I caught outside Albany--the BS colony I called it.  Four different households, who fought among themselves constantly, terrible suffering went on there.  My vet at the time asked me to help, then apologized later, when he realized the magnitude of his ask.  That was a long time ago.  Buffy and her brother Mops, both who have passed, also came from there.   My brother and his wife adopted one of Shady's cousins and she passed a few years back.  Shady has outlived all of them.  Echo, her best friend, and in the old gals' club along with Haley, said her goodbyes over the last few days.

So long Shady.  

Shady, on the left, with her best friend Echo, await chicken.