Beasty

I’d like to introduce you to our dearest and most beloved kitty from my childhood. Laurie and I brought her home in the wagon one day. A neighbor lady from down the block saw us playing with the kitten in her yard and came out and said, “You can’t have that kitty, but…” handing us a different kitten, “you can have THIS one,” you know, like we’d won the grand prize or something. We felt pretty dang lucky–winning the kitty lottery like that, so naturally we took her and ran all the way home.

Now Laurie was a little older than me and much smarter–at the time–so she briefed me on the plan. See, Daddy didn’t particularly like cats. He liked dogs…big dogs…that don’t really get along with cats.  But mama–she liked cats, so it would be important to get to mama first, waaaay before daddy caught on. Because if we sold mama on something, then it would be so. She could talk daddy into anything. ANYthing. Trust me on this.

So, I stayed out on the side of the house while Laurie went in to see if the coast was clear. It was. No daddy in sight. We brought the kitty in and she purred right up to mama and that was that.  We gave her some warm milk and fixed her a snuggley box bed with an old towel for a blanket. By the time daddy came home that little cat was curled up fast asleep in mama’s lap and we’d already named her Beasty.

Poor Daddy never stood a chance.