My first pet...

I'm having a lot of trouble thinking up stuff to write on a blog. I'm just not one of those people who can speak spontaneously about everything.  My life is so exciting and action packed that it is hard to choose what to talk about.  So, I'm making preparations to attend the RootsTech conference in Salt Lake in a couple of weeks.  The other night I was reading about all the classes being offered and one of them is called "365 journal prompts."  The light came on inside of my brain and I decided that would be a really good idea. Since I haven't taken the class yet,  I searched online for a website with some journal prompts.  Each time I want to share on this page I'll choose a journal prompt to talk about.

Question of the day: What was your first pet?  Why did you choose this ?

I can remember countless times in my life when I begged my mother for a cat.  The answer was always, NO.  I don't know if the fact that I had allergies had anything to do with her stubbornness or not.  I remember one specific time I had been across the street visiting my neighbors and they had some darling kittens.  There was a beautiful, white, long haired kitten that I felt should be mine.  I carried it home so carefully.  Mom was outside working in her flower beds and I showed her this darling kitten.  I begged her for it.  I pleaded with her to allow me to keep this kitten but that old answer I was so accustomed to came out of her mouth.  "No, take the kitten back.  We aren't going to have any cats around here."

Years later...

When I was growing up if there was a crust of bread left in the bag of bread we'd go out on the back porch and break it up and throw it out onto the gravel driveway for the birds to eat. There came a day that there was an old, scraggly looking cat that would come out of hiding and eat these pieces of bread. So, I started feeding this ugly, scraggly, gray cat pieces of bread.  Every day I'd go out on the porch and that cat would be there for his daily piece of bread.  It took awhile of feeding it but my mother finally relented and allowed me to "keep" that cat.  After awhile, when it had been feed and taken care of it's fur grew in pretty and it didn't look so bad.  The fur wasn't long and white but it was a cat and it was mine.  I'll have to see if I can find a picture of it.  I don't remember if I ever named the cat or not.  

I made a search of the archives and found this photo.  This is the cat that finally became my first pet.  I was even reminded of his name, "Critter".  I'm sure that was the name my mother gave him.  To her he was a critter and I think that every cat and dog she ever was associated with was called a critter..

Mom even tended and took care of it while I was on my mission.  During that time she had an infestation of  cats at the house and she would set out a trap at night to catch all the strays that hung around the house.  She said most of the time she would go out in the morning to see if she had caught a cat during the night and there would be my cat sitting in the trap.  She always released it and let it stay.  I wonder what ever happened to that cat?

I found this picture of my brothers and I with a cat.  I don't know who that cat belonged too.  It must have been one of the neighbors or something because it was taken in the years of my longing for a cat and wasn't able to have one of my own.