Saturday, my Husband helped his dad out in the country. He had the oldest and the two youngest with him while I had numbers two and three with me at a Bazaar in which I was participating. While Husband and kids were helping and playing, a tiny, black kitten was spotted. And a goat with a Harley Davidson collar appeared in the fence with the other goats. But I’m not talking about the goat today.

The kids played with the kitten, chasing it, likely scaring it to near death and when they were done helping Papa, they left. No cries. No whines. No begging. At least that’s how it was reported to me.

At least there was no whining until about half-way home. And then Cindy Lou Who, aka Laura Lea, was crushed to not bring a kitten home in her arms. C.R.U.S.H.E.D. And she remained crushed throughout the evening.

The first thing I recall my Husband saying Sunday morning is, “I’m going to go see if that kitten is still at my folks’.” and this is what follows…

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Now, it was made crystal clear to the children, by me repeatedly, that if the kitten did not receive a clean bill of health from the vet (an exam for which my Husband assured me the kitten studied), then we would be burying the kitten beside Hydro. Yes. I said that. Why not? They needed to know.

So first thing Monday morning the kitten visited the vet for feline leukemia test, fecal test, etc etc. She (yes, that was checked as well) passed all of her tests.

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And now, at approximately 7 weeks old and 1.8 pounds, Blackie is home and constantly in the arms of Laura Lea who repeatedly makes it crystal clear to me that “When Blackie grows up and gets married she will have lots of cute little babies like her and stay home with them.”

I know, from this child’s simple analysis of a kitten’s life gifted to her by her Daddy, that my being home is indeed worth every moment. Every single moment.

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