The woodshed was Flo’s first home on the farm. It’s where she went when she was ferrel. I used to see her running around the farm, she had similar markings to our cat, Mother, who disappeared and at a glance, I sometimes thought it was her.
Then, one day just as it was staring to get cold, Flo sat outside the woodshed on a pile of unstacked wood and let me feed her.
She’s been our cat ever since.
She still likes to sleep in the woodshed. When there’s wood in the shed, she climbs up it to get to the loft. This time of year when most of the woods is gone, she climbs up and down the wall. It’s kind of wild to see.
She used to sleep in the old cardboard boxes that were in the loft, left there from the last owners of the house. Now there’s a nest of hay and a wooden crate with a blanket in it for her to sleep in.
Sometimes, like today, when it’s raining out, I’ll feed her in the loft so she doesn’t have to come down from her perch.