When I was a little girl, and long before I understood about all the responsibilities of life, I wanted to live on a farm.

I always wanted some cows, some baby ones, and some chickens, well, baby chicks, and some donkeys, I mean the miniature ones and some goats…some baby goats.

But then one day I grew up. Well, not completely, but enough to find out that farms are a lot of work, and I like sleeping in. And I like taking naps. And I like sittin’ around lookin at the animals. I just don’t believe in getting up at the crack of dawn to give them food and clean up their poop.

Oh, wait…I guess I already do that now…but that’s different. My own kids are a little cuter. A little.

So, I decided that maybe bein’ a farmer’s wife wasn’t for me. But bein’ married to a farmer’s son is a pretty nice thing.

Because when you’re married to a farmer’s son, you don’t have to clean up cow poop, but you do get to go on kitty-hunts. And kitty-hunts are very exciting.

First, you get to climb up the hay elevator.

It’s actually very scary to climb up hay elevators. Only super-brave people do it. Because only super-brave people are brave enough.

The only thing scarier than climbing up the hay-elevator is climbing up the dilapidated old grain silo. I wanted to do this but the farmer’s son said “no.” Something about he wanted me to continue living. He probably just wants help with the children. And he wants food. He’s always wanting food.

Anyways…

Once you’re inside the hay mow, you continue your kitty-hunt.

You have to search and search everywhere while making very mature mother-cat meowing noises. This will trick the kitties into thinking you’re comin’ with something good to eat.

Just pretend like you don’t see the bazillions of spider webs everywhere. This will keep you from flippin out and going bazeerk in the top of the hay mow.

Once you spot the kitties, you just proceed cautiously so as not to frighten their sweet little souls.

Just ignore their intimidating hissing noises. They really do like you.
They will like you…repeat this to yourself.

Then pick out the kitty of your choice (I like the dark gray one) and go ahead and name it and make up a sweet story about it and try to convince the farmer’s son to let you take it home.

When he asks you why you’re sneezing and why your eyes are all red and puffy, deny the possibility that you might be having an allergic reaction and tell him it’s because you may very well perish if you don’t have a kitty.

Continue this every time you visit the farm.
Someday…you may just break him down.