I’m ten or so. My brother, sister, and I attend a small country school where today we had a mock election for the president. It is November of 1976. I only remember because of the election and that I voted for the man who won, Jimmy Carter. Seriously, I just liked peanut butter and he was a peanut farmer…
We were walking home from school in a very wintery cold afternoon. As we rounded the corner of the block that would lead to the hotel we were living in, we could see a fire in the burn barrel outside our back kitchen door. Our step dad was there. From our distance away we could vaguely see he was hacking at something with a tool with a long handle. As we drew nearer, it became clear the tool was a metal garden rake and that the something was the bloody remains one of our three kittens.
We were each given one. Mine was named Cally. He was a Calico. On the ground were the remains of my brother’s kitten. My sister’s was already in the burn barrel. We stopped before we got to the house and began to cry together. I was a newer believer in the Lord and began to ask God to save my kitten. All three of us looked up to see a little furry blur jump out of a white paint bucket next to the kitchen door and run away.
We would periodically see Cally in the neighborhood and feed and pet him. We would never bring him home.
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