I missed posting this yesterday, when it was National Cat's Day. However, this had me thinking about my first cat, Frisky.
It was a Friday evening, we watched a t.v. movie about an orphaned boy and his stray kitten. For the life of me, I wish I could remember the name of this movie. I've thought about it dozens of times over the years. I think it was around 1973-74, as my brother Frank was just driving and still in high school. I think I was in 2nd grade. Anyway, this movie had a sad story line and it left an impression on me...so much so, that I spent the rest of that evening and all Saturday morning begging for a kitten. We already had a dog and my dad didn't like inside cats.
Being the baby of the family helped my begging and nagging, as my dad said "yes." I remember him getting the newspaper and looking in the ads for "free kittens." We called one and Frank drove Lori and I to the country to get me a kitten. At the time, it seemed like a long way from town. I actually know exactly where this old brick farm house is, every time I drive past it, I think of Frisky.
It was a cold, snowy morning, but the old brick farm house was warmed by the wood cook stove in her kitchen. The old woman, was baking when we arrived. She reminded me of my Grandma Kincaid, as she was round, wearing a house dress and tattered apron. From the bottom of that old stove, she pulled out a wood crate full of kittens. "They stay nice and warm under there, " she says.
I instantly see a black and white kitten, like the one I saw in the movie the night before. "This is the one I want" I told Frank. I named her Frisky as that was also the name of the kitten in the movie.
Frisky, was my cat for years. My dad put up with cat poop in the house, as sometimes I didn't clean the liter box too good - let's face it - I was the baby...I never cleaned the liter box.
I slept with her and she was my best friend. I would call her (and I still call all my cats this way) by rolling my tongue behind my teeth and making a noise. I have no idea why I started this, but all my cats know that this noise means "come here."
My mom helped me write this poem about Frisky.
I have a little kitten, who's as cute as can be
when I come home from school,
she is there to greet me.
She tells me that she loves me in her own special way
and every night when I pray
I thank God for my little kitty.
I received some kind of an award for that poem and I didn't even write most of it - my mom did. It stuck with me all these years.
My next door neighbor friend, Kathy, hated cats. She was a dog girl. She would complain all the time to me that Frisky pooped in her sand box. Frisky did - I already told you about the liter box. She would say "I hate your cat." Well, one day we got into this big fight and I kicked her out of my club. My dad brought home an old chicken coop, which he let me turn into a club house. The club members were Kathy, Lisa and I. Sometimes we let Holly and Debbie in too. After that fight, Lisa and I wrote on all the inside walls..."No Dogs Allowed." The last time I peeked my head in this little shed, it still was on the walls.
Thank you, Frisky, for all the wonderful memories.
Pets are an important part of our lives. What was your favorite pet?
Blessings from Ringle, Wisconsin.
Linked to: http://www.oakhillhomestead.com/2015/10/our-simple-homestead-blog-hop-23.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+OakHillHomestead+%28Oak+Hill+Homestead%29
It was a Friday evening, we watched a t.v. movie about an orphaned boy and his stray kitten. For the life of me, I wish I could remember the name of this movie. I've thought about it dozens of times over the years. I think it was around 1973-74, as my brother Frank was just driving and still in high school. I think I was in 2nd grade. Anyway, this movie had a sad story line and it left an impression on me...so much so, that I spent the rest of that evening and all Saturday morning begging for a kitten. We already had a dog and my dad didn't like inside cats.
Being the baby of the family helped my begging and nagging, as my dad said "yes." I remember him getting the newspaper and looking in the ads for "free kittens." We called one and Frank drove Lori and I to the country to get me a kitten. At the time, it seemed like a long way from town. I actually know exactly where this old brick farm house is, every time I drive past it, I think of Frisky.
It was a cold, snowy morning, but the old brick farm house was warmed by the wood cook stove in her kitchen. The old woman, was baking when we arrived. She reminded me of my Grandma Kincaid, as she was round, wearing a house dress and tattered apron. From the bottom of that old stove, she pulled out a wood crate full of kittens. "They stay nice and warm under there, " she says.
I instantly see a black and white kitten, like the one I saw in the movie the night before. "This is the one I want" I told Frank. I named her Frisky as that was also the name of the kitten in the movie.
Frisky, was my cat for years. My dad put up with cat poop in the house, as sometimes I didn't clean the liter box too good - let's face it - I was the baby...I never cleaned the liter box.
I slept with her and she was my best friend. I would call her (and I still call all my cats this way) by rolling my tongue behind my teeth and making a noise. I have no idea why I started this, but all my cats know that this noise means "come here."
My mom helped me write this poem about Frisky.
I have a little kitten, who's as cute as can be
when I come home from school,
she is there to greet me.
She tells me that she loves me in her own special way
and every night when I pray
I thank God for my little kitty.
I received some kind of an award for that poem and I didn't even write most of it - my mom did. It stuck with me all these years.
My next door neighbor friend, Kathy, hated cats. She was a dog girl. She would complain all the time to me that Frisky pooped in her sand box. Frisky did - I already told you about the liter box. She would say "I hate your cat." Well, one day we got into this big fight and I kicked her out of my club. My dad brought home an old chicken coop, which he let me turn into a club house. The club members were Kathy, Lisa and I. Sometimes we let Holly and Debbie in too. After that fight, Lisa and I wrote on all the inside walls..."No Dogs Allowed." The last time I peeked my head in this little shed, it still was on the walls.
Thank you, Frisky, for all the wonderful memories.
Pets are an important part of our lives. What was your favorite pet?
Blessings from Ringle, Wisconsin.
Linked to: http://www.oakhillhomestead.com/2015/10/our-simple-homestead-blog-hop-23.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+OakHillHomestead+%28Oak+Hill+Homestead%29
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