THREE LITTLE KITTENS
What was that sound? Soft and squeaky and – scared? Angry? What?
I didn’t want to investigate. My back ached. I rubbed where I could reach and promised myself a hot bath once I finished my chores and could finally – finally – go inside. Besides, I told myself, it was clearly an animal. Did I want to confront what could be something disagreeable and dirty and scary? No, I did not.
But then I heard it again. Squeaky, that was it for sure. Now what kind of animal squeaks?
As I asked myself the question, I answered myself. The young kind and what if this was a miniature skunk or something similar that was best avoided?
Another squeak. This time more than one. Did I have a family of skunks in my new-to-me barn? I’d only moved in a week ago and if I’d have known how much work I was letting myself in for I might have reconsidered. But the house was lovely, old and rambling, the kind for families and Ricky and Josie would love it, along with the barn that showed years of neglect but still stood straight and strong. All it needed was paint, a lot of work to clean it out, and a lot of TLC.
An awful lot of TLC.
The squeak came again and this time I faced facts. Ricky and Josie would be here in two days. If whatever was making tiny noises in my barn was there when they arrived, who knew what would happen when they explored their new home? And, yes, the barn would be the first place they went just as it had been the thing that had first hit me when the real estate agent had pulled up to the old farm.
I didn’t want them bitten by whatever was in the barn. So, with a sigh and a promise of a hot bath later, I started for the barn. The door was slightly ajar.
I’d almost reached the door when I saw movement inside. I stopped. Should I proceed?
Then, before I could make a decision, the squeaks came again. And three tiny, cute, differently colored kittens appeared in the door.
The rest of this story and eleven more can be read in THE WOMEN OF FLY-OVER COUNTRY, available now at Amazon.