The weather forecast calls for gusty winds and frigid temperatures tonight and it is bone-chillingly cold this morning. Maria and I have decided to put Flo and Minnie in the farmhouse basement tonight. We don’t want them in the house. Three dogs are enough, and we don’t need cat hair on the furniture. It’s still a curious decision. Barn cats don’t need to come inside, even in frigid weather. I have no doubts about that, having lived with them for years. They take care of themselves. The donkeys aren’t coming in, neither are the sheep and in many ways, cats are better equipped to deal with the cold than many other animals – they have thick fur, can find warm and enclosed spaces.

Maria and I were laughing last night. Sometimes when it’s cold, she puts a blanket over Frieda on her dog bed. Why do that, we asked, and keep the cats outside? The answer is accessible enough. Frieda is a pet, the barn cats somewhere in between a pet and a farm animal. In our relationship with animals, we often do things for them when we are really doing them for us.  And there is a pretty wide communications gap between people who see animals as pets and those who see them as animals. Barn cats do fine in all kinds of weather, but when it gets this cold, we just feel bad about them being out there. That’s a good enough reason, I suppose, as long as I am honest about it.

I believe the most humane thing for people is to let animals live their lives, not our lives. But I live on the border between pets and animals, and am often doing this dance. Part of being human, part of owning a farm. The animals, of course, are never really in the conversation.