I woke up at 4 o’clock this morning worried about my cat. What had we done? Yesterday we sent Frieda away in a cardboard box sealed with duct tape. She was off to her new home on the farm.
Yes, we traded Frieda for Socks alias Boots. (This wasn’t my evil plan as Amanda suggested when we phoned her after the deed was done.) But, I'll admit when my husband’s assistant Amy broached the idea, I adopted it immediately.
Amy’s family lives on a farm with farm cats, feral animals kept to exterminate the rodent population. Recently Boots showed up at the farm. He’s small, short-haired, loves people and is scared of the farm dog. This dog has a reputation as a cat killer, especially those who are scared of him.
Frieda is large, long-haired, seems to hate people except the ones that are scared of her, and would stand up to the dog (we think). So we traded. Staying on the farm meant a sure death for Boots. Frieda became his savior so to speak.