Kittenhood
I began life on a farm near Penobscot bay on the coast of Maine. My mother and father were barn cats (flatlanders from the city would have called her a Maine Coon Cat). They came from a long line of working cats that keep the barns of Maine free from mice and rats. It is a difficult job, but it gives us plenty of food and we are free to run around the farm in all but the coldest of weather. My mother told me that in the winter, the farmer sometimes would allow them to come in and sleep by the wood stove. I was born in May of 1992.
The farmer's wife painted a picture of the barn where we lived.
I have many wonderful memories of growing up. My mother took good care of us kittens ( I have 2 brothers and 3 sisters), feeding us when we were hungry, keeping us warm at night and later, teaching us how to hunt mice. One day I became very frightened when strangers came and began picking all of us up one by one. After a while a little girl said that she liked me and the farmer picked me up and handed me to her. I tried to get away and cried for my mother, but the girl was strong and wouldn't let me go. I became even more frightened, when she got into an automobile and closed the door. My mother always told me to stay away from automobiles, tractors and trucks, and here I was inside of one.
