Free Kittens

The sign was tacked to an old oak tree, crudely lettered.  Free Kittens, it read.  I tightened my grip on Nana's hand and tried to pull her toward it.

No, she said firmly, Absolutely not.  But I broke free and ran for the porch, nearly tripping on the weeds and debris before I reached the steps.  My grandmother called my name angrily, ordering me back at once, but by then I'd gotten to the front door and there, in a cardboard box lined with newspapers and torn blankets, were four kittens.  The mother cat, a handsome calico, slept in a nearby rocking chair, barely rousing herself at my arrival.  The kittens - two black, one gray and white, and one a calico like the mother, were curled up in tight, little balls, noses to tails and sleeping peacefully.  I held my breath, afraid to wake them, and then I was crying just because they were so beautiful.

Oh, Nana, oh, please, Nana, I begged, Just come look!

She shook her head fiercely and again ordered me back with an impatient stamp of her foot.  Knowing that there would be consequences, I wasn't in the habit of disobeying her but something inside me had grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. 

Please, Nana! I wailed pitifully. 

The screen door swung open and a young woman, very pregnant and with a baby in her arms, stepped through and gave me a tired smile.  She gently shooed the mother cat out of the rocking chair and sat down, taking in my tears and my grandmother's tight lipped expression in one glance.

Please can I hold one? I asked, Please?

They're all spoke for, she told me with a shake of her head, I haven't had time to take the sign down.  And besides, you don't want to wake'em.


My grandmother relaxed at this, I thought, and called my name again, a little more gently.  I gave the kittens one last, long look and reluctantly turned away.  


I expected a trip to the woodshed but instead Nana made me chocolate pudding and gave me a long list of reasons why we couldn't have a kitten - the dogs wouldn't like it, we wouldn't be able to take it home at the end of the summer, it would grow up to be a cat and then there would be more kittens.  I ate the pudding which helped a tiny bit and I listened which didn't help at all.  I was a long way from understanding that among the many divisions there are between people, most can be bridged to some extent, but the love of animals is either imprinted on your soul or it isn't - somehow I knew I had it and my grandmother didn't - and I suspected that it was the kind of thing that would never be changed.