The Cat's Out of the... Bin?

OH. MY. GOODNESS.

Y'ALL.

I have been away from Steemit for far too long. Between busy holiday hootenannies, outrageously frigid weather, and a variety of time- and will-devouring happenings that I really had no control over, I have let my blogger presence slide! So my deep apologies for that.

Here's a grain bin for no reason.

Moving right along...

I'm not even going to try to update you on EVERYTHING that happened while I was away either. Here's the highlights though:

• said a final farewell to our beloved Border Collie Oreo, as her advanced age and very poor health meant it was kinder to let her forever sleep.
• Switched from glasses to contacts (woo for no more foggy lenses after coming in from the cold!)
• Two youngest children diagnosed with astigmatism, so they are eagerly awaiting their new and stylish corrective lenses.
• Got some fancy Outer Space internet installed at my house
• No one froze to death.

So! On with today's excitement!

Since it wasn't face-blisteringly cold today for a change, I got some pretty pics of my rapidly chubby-ing mama sheeps!

look at that big round chubby wubby baby belly

oh my goshies there's another one

These next photos are of some of my super-friendly ewe lambs, these photos were actually taken a few days before Christmas for a post that never materialized, but I though I should share them now too because CUTE.

dies of cute

Ok, so, the bin, that was for no reason earlier, was actually for a reason. That's the bin where I keep the grain for my sheep. It's actually a hopper-bottom bin, you just can't tell from the outside.

Anyways, somehow magically, Roscoe the cat got inside the bin. I don't mean the little door part where I extract the grain from, which he could have just turned around and walked back out of. I mean the entirely inaccessible grain storage area.

I literally do not know how he accomplished this. Perhaps he is a magic teleporting cat. Or a sciencey phase-shifting cat. Possibly even a victim of quantum dissonance or a wizard's spell gone awry.

The point is, when I walked past the bin this afternoon, he cried out to me for rescue.

Naturally, I asked him how he got in there, what he was doing in there, how the flip did he expect me to get him out, etc, etc. His response was invariably "MIAOW." In increasingly distressed tones. He might even have said a few curse words, but I'm not fully fluent in Feline.

So. Out came the power tools.

I cut a small door in the side of the bin. Roscoe was not impressed with the noises, but also seemed to understand that it was all in his best interest.

Since the plywood is old and brittle, and Roscoe was getting increasingly frantic, I opted not to do the final cut to finish the door and just applied some brute force to open it.

I wanted to get a photo of Roscoe emerging, but my camera trigger finger is not that fast, so I've drawn you a reasonable facsimile of the moment:

Here he is, still a lot scared, but safe with me, outside of the prison bin.

He went back to his standard casual disregard for the human race in general and for me in particular shortly afterward, so I'm assuming he's not too mentally scarred by the whole ordeal.

So Hooray, happy ending! The cat's out of the bin!

Thanks for stopping by and hope your felines are similarly safe and accounted for. Come back again soon!