The Dairy Syndicate: Part 2, The Offense and the Indignity

If Part 1 was a solo heist, Part 2 quickly escalated into full-blown farmyard turf warfare. It turns out that a calculating, cheese-obsessed rooster is only half the battle. Enter the silent operator: the farm cat.

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The cat is a master of the stakeout. She knows exactly where to wait, positioning herself silently outside my cabin window, perfectly composed and ready for the inevitable appearance of diced Gouda rinds. It’s a quiet, effective operation.

Until the rooster spots her.

The moment he sees the cat encroaching on his designated cheese-receiving territory, he is profoundly, personally offended. Forget misdirection; this calls for immediate protest. He stands in the yard near the woodshed, neck extended, and releases a series of earsplitting, furious crows, demanding that I witness this transgression.

This is when I decided to test the limits of their obsession.

I stepped outside and scooped up the protesting farm cat. The cat suffers the absolute indignation of being cuddled, ears back, narrowed eyes, total resignation, but she endures it because she knows the score: I am hand-feeding her the cheese cubes while she is in my arms. She will tolerate the hug if the dairy payoff is high enough.

The rooster, watching this preferential treatment from a safe distance, is absolutely fuming. His jealousy warps his judgment, and he begins to creep closer, looking back and forth between me and the cat, clearly hoping for a piece of the action.

Seeing my moment, I set the cat down and reached for him, offering the same terms: a cuddle for a cheese trade.

He knew exactly what was happening. He wanted the dairy, but he was absolutely unwilling to accept the intimacy. He spun on his heel and bolted across the grass, running away as fast as his feet could take him, all while issuing a furious, insulted crow of rage.

The cold war continues. The cat is winning on snuggles, but the rooster holds the line on dignity.