It was one of those delicious early summer days in southern Missouri. What a perfect day to get my kiddos outfitted with new sneakers for the summer. I remembered that the general store in a tiny nearby town was glutted with sneakers in all sizes and colors. No one seemed to know why, but there it was. “Hey kids! Finish those PB and J’s and we’ll take a ride out to Sparta and get you some new shoes.” Kids were estatic, as expected.
We piled into our old blue Ford Fairlane and headed down HWY F toward Sparta. Suddenly my 6 year old piped up, “Mommy, there’s a cat!” I scanned the road ahead but saw nary a feline. Just then I felt her on the back of my neck. What on earth? I am sure that she was more frightened than I was, but I managed to keep the car on the road and pulled over to shoo her down. Somehow I realized that she was protecting her children. She had given birth under the driver’s seat. We continued on our errand, kitty family and all, chose those new sneakers, and drove home. We left the car door ajar long enough for Mommy Kitty to retrieve her babies and move them to a more secure place.
“Now which one of you two left the car door open?”
Silence.