Bob

Batz

Read Bob's bio and previous columns

January 30, 2009

Free Kittens? Some Bargain!

I'll never forget the last time my first wife Sally and I got a new cat.

She loves cats, but I've harbored an immense dislike for them since I was 10 years old and our family feline ruined my awesome collection of what would now be vintage baseball cards when it mistook the container of cards for a litter box.

For that reason alone, I've never encouraged Sally to get a cat, even though she adores them and they seem to like her a lot, too.

When I was a kid, several of my pets ran away. One of my pets that left home without leaving so much as a hastily-scrawled note was Rin Tin Tin, my turtle.

"My turtle ran away," I told my mother, sobbing.

"Turtles," my father corrected me, "don't run away. Turtles walk away."

Unfortunately none of the cats Sally and I have shared our home with over the last 45 years have ever run away, but that certainly isn’t my fault because I've done everything but pack their little suitcases.

Sally got our last cat at a fruit farm near Lewisburg, Ohio. She went there to buy a bushel of apples and came home with a cat.

"I couldn't resist him," she said, handing me the kitten.

After covering my throat with one hand, I stroked the tiny animal's fur. The kitten responded to my display of affection by biting a chunk of flesh out of my right index finger.

That's when I suddenly found myself wishing the kitten would run away.

"Where should we put the kitty's food dish?" Sally asked.

"How about in some farmer's field that's at least 33 miles from here?" I said.

As it turned out, Sally and the kids did lots of fun things with the kitten. They kids gave the kitten a rubber mouse to play with. Sally bought the kitten a leash and took it for walks around the neighborhood. But every time I tried to entertain the kitten, my wife put a stop to it.

"How about I take the kitten for a little car ride in the country?" I asked.

"Not on your life," my wife replied.

Another time she caught me stepping out the door with the kitten in one hand and a pillow case in the other.

"Where are you going?" Sally wanted to know.

"I'm going to teach kitty-kitty how to swim," I replied.

Actually, if you really think about it, kittens may be the last real bargains in America at a time when darned few things are free. If you don't believe it, check out all the homemade yard signs you see these days that promise "FREE KITTENS" and "FREE TOPSOIL."

But, along with my nifty little tip, here's a warning: Whatever you do, don't assume the two – kittens and topsoil – are interchangeable.

Unless, of course, you're planning to put in a new driveway that meows and eats mice.

© 2009 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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