My thoughts released; a mind set free
|So, I've been making entries in "Andre The Blog Monkey's Banana Bar" and the prompts make it a bit difficult to write silly foolishness. So, I thought I would share a short story about a kitten I rescued when I was but a wee lad in school.
I was walking home after school one fine autumn day when this little, fluffy, and scared kitten ran out of a hedge with a rather large dog right on its tail so I rescued the cute, fluffy beast. Well, I didn't actually rescue him, he, in sheer terror and panic, almost ran into me. Needing a hasty escape, he proceeded to climb up my pant leg and shirt, taking refuge on my shoulder as I felt those tiny, but needle-sharp claws piercing my skin from my ankle to my shoulder.
I reached up to remove him since his tiny but needle-sharp claws were still deeply embedded in my shoulder, but the little bastard bit my finger, hard. Being a somewhat intelligent youth, I quickly gave up any thoughts of removing him and popped my injured and bleeding digit into my mouth. After administering first aid I yelled at the dog who was still jumping and trying to get the kitten, which was making it dig those little, needle-sharp claws ever deeper into my now very sore shoulder.
The dog retreated back around the house it had appeared from and I, still fearful of removing the terror-inflicted little beast went up to the house and inquired if it was their kitten. "No." I went to the other houses in the neighborhood and inquired the same, and received the same answer, "No." With no other choice, I proceeded on my way home with a bleeding finger, multiple punctures up my leg and torso, and a cute little kitten attached to my shoulder.
Once home, my mother was able to painfully remove the kitten, which didn't bite her, but instead curled into a tiny little ball and began purring. She told me I had to try and find the owners, so after it had gulped down some leftover meatloaf and drank a small bowl of milk, I took a picture with my dad's polaroid and made a poster with our phone number and address so the little, cute, and now very tired kitten curled in my mother's lap could be returned home.
I posted it on the side of the phone booth, and being a very small town, figured that would be sufficient. After a few days, someone had boldly written "No" under the text asking, "Is this your kitten?" Someone else had posted another sign next to mine stating, "This is a public phone please do not post signs here!" I took my sign down and wrote on theirs, "If we can't post signs here, what the hell is this?"
Anyway, I ended up with a tiger-striped kitten I named Tiger Elroy Killroy Butch and a week of being confined to my room after school for my notations on the sign on the phone booth. It seems the phone company recorded my phone number and address from my sign and notified my parents of my comment on theirs. I said I was somewhat intelligent, not a genius!