I have been told that normal people don't take their cats to the mountains with them. I am rarely accused of being normal, or anything even close to it. And more to the point, the cabin I visited was infested with rats. Large aggressive noisy rats. So aside from the benefits of seeing my calico cat sitting tranquilly in a field of daffodils, I got to sleep without listening to rodents rummaging through my belongings all night long.

And the noise one rat can make at night is rather alarming, I think if rats do a good job they get reincarnated as airline baggage handlers. Or possibly it is the other way around. In any event my black cat Fungus Bug put the theory to the test, he reincarnated several of them. For the first time ever I was able to sleep inside the cabin, it was a real pleasure. Two years of cat food and kitty litter had finally paid off.

In fact, Fungus turned into death on paws. I have never known a cat with such strong hunting instincts. Once Fungus cleared the cabin of offensive rodents, which only took part of one night, he went to work on the local fauna. I think he was trying to work his way systematically up the food chain. Since the lower end of the food chain is primarily rodents I didn't object. Fungus said they were all trying to get into the cabin and thank goodness he was there to intercept them. Cats rarely lie so I could only but believe him. I wish he hadn't left little corpses under my cot, but he was so devoted and proud I could only but praise him.

And on the last day Fungus brought in something that didn't fit under the cot. A grand finale to his hunting spree as it were. He claimed it was a wildebeest but I don't think so. It appeared to be some sort of large attack rodent, I just hope the rest of its pack got the message.

Beanie on the other paw took a more sedate approach to life in the mountains. She quickly determined that under the cabin was the best place to be and that's where she stayed. Excepting our daily walks and the occasional romp in the daffodil meadow. She made it very clear that hunting was something common lower class cats did. If there had been perhaps a shrimp or a tuna to hunt she might have considered it. And besides, the weather couldn't get to her under the cabin.

Both cats were surprised by the concept of weather, something that very rarely intrudes inside a condominium. Every time it snowed or rained they both looked at me like "Why are you doing this Doug?" I could only shrug my shoulders, I certainly hadn't planned on so much weather. That is one of the features of the mountains, one gets to experience every season every day. At least I knew that when Fungus got covered with snow the sun would be out in a few hours to dry him off.

And one hasn't lived till one has chased ones cat around a mountain meadow in the middle of the night during a terrible thunderstorm. Fungus thought it was great fun, and he certainly looked dramatic in the flashes of lightning. Eventually his fur got so soaked that he slowed down and I was able to drag him to the cabin. I made a strict policy of keeping them in at night. They could easily become coyote bait, or even a snack for the Big Kitty that occasionally prowls around the cabin at night.

However during the day they got to roam free as, well, cats. Twice daily I would take them on long walks. Cat walking requires a lot of patience. For one thing their little legs are not quite up to human speeds over distances. And more importantly there were so many enticing smells to investigate. And holes to go down even, I thought I'd never see Fungus again the first time he went into a badger burrow. He quickly emerged however, the badger was not home or perhaps they came to some quick and peaceful understanding.

In fact the only untoward thing that happened was when Fungus fell into the pond. I believe he just lost his footing though he claims he was fishing for trout. In either case he got very wet and his dignity was severely compromised. This disagreeable accident had a salutary effect on him though. The next time we were walking it came time to cross the creek. Fungus spent at least ten minutes searching for the perfect spot to leap from, then he crouched and LEAPT. He cleared the four foot creek by at least six feet, it was like he was shot from a gun. Beanie was very jealous, Fungus had clearly upstaged her delicate double hop. And he didn't even come close to getting wet.

And aside from the cats the mountains are amazing in their own right. At least once per day the scenery was so beautiful it hurt the eyes to look at. So even without the cats the experience was worth the while. They plan on moving up there and I can hardly blame them. In fact I may just join them.