Short Memory Not That Good

If you think you may have heard a story like this before, well you would be right, if you have been following my blog for a while. This was one of the first things I wrote about. Yes, this is the same story, sorry I forgot that I wrote it before.

So it is that, I haven't written about my memories for a while, well here it is again, and I personally will never forget it. Maybe you won't either after hearing it twice. I hope you enjoy it again as much as I enjoy telling it. Watch for more in the days ahead. New ones, for sure. If this doesn't get comments, I guess nothing will. (It's age, I think.)

BLOWER, That’s His Name!

I am the age where I don’t remember much about the threshing days, throwing bundles, filled with thistles and all. But this is a story that I will never forget. It was the day our cat Blower got his name. This was a very funny story, but believe me it was not funny for the cat. I am sure glad cats are supposed to have nine lives otherwise old Blower would have been a goner.

You see, as fall was approaching, we needed to get ready for threshing time. So the old threshing machine had to be checked over from top to bottom, grease nipples had to be greased and all of the chains had to be oiled. Then finally, we would finish by running it for a while just to supple it up a bit and clean out it’s insides of all the chaff and dust and dirt that had collected over the year. Just to clean it up a bit more before the first threshing day came along.

We had brought a few sheaves in just to run through the system to make sure everything was working. I remember watching as my dad and brother pulled the team and wagon up along side of the old tractor we had on the threshing machine. Then, dad started it up, the old machine ground and squealed and finally jumped into motion. What a racket it made as all of the belts, chains, wheels, slates, cogs and paddles started moving very slowly. It was always a fascinating event in the year.

Chuck was about to put in the first bundle and that was when, what I both seen and heard next will never leave my memory. It was a ball of fur, a grey hair ball, a chunk of gray mass, no it sounded like, and it was a cat. It came flying out of the blower spout where the straw usually came out of. But this time ahead of the straw came a cat, that had obviously been hunting mice inside the old threshing machine. He must have been sitting on one of the blower paddles, because he was not even hurt but I won’t ever forget the size of his tail. The hair on his tail was standing up all over his body and his tail was almost half the size of his body. He was flying through the air like a torpedo and if I didn't believe it before, I believe it now, that cats always do land on their feet. He hit the ground feet first and moving very fast, never before or since, have I seen a cat move so fast. That cat no sooner hit the ground and he was off like a lightening bolt, streaking off across the yard. In about 2 seconds flat he went from the threshing machine to the barn, and I believe we never saw him for a number of days. When he did make his next appearance, he automatically became known as BLOWER the cat .