Last night I found our sweet little cat, Figaro, dead by the door to our barn. He came with the property when we bought it three years ago, wandering over one day and staying. I have no idea how old he was. He slept on our porch every night, even when it was cold out and we would leave the barn open for him. He was good at catching mice, chipmunks, and rabbits, and will be missed very much.
Our girls loved him, especially Maddie, who would tell him about her day at school when she came home.
He had a small injury to his neck. Matt thinks maybe an eagle got him and then dropped him after realizing he was not something he wanted to eat. We do have huge bald eagles that perch on our oaks and look around. Poor little guy.
I buried him as soon as I found him, by a row of pine trees, and surrounded his grave with little rocks.
In the spring we will get some kittens and train them to go into the barn at night. We need them for rodent control, and will need the promise of something happy to cheer up the girls.