M.K. and a Little Boy
Are you one of those persons that loves everyone and everything?
Well, I've gotta tell you, it's not that easy for me. Take for example:
Years ago, I babysat some kids. This one little boy--well, there was just something about the little fellow that was hard for me to love like I should have.
I tried. Honest. But I couldn't make myself love him.
So I resorted to prayer. I told God he would have to help me learn to love this child.
To make a long story short (as all the long-winders always say, and then go on and on) he did, and I did. Wasn't in my power, but his.
Now on to M.K.
Who's M.K.? Stands for Miniature KitKat (KitKat is the mother). When Son # 1 moved, he brought them to us to watch. I had no trouble with KitKat. Even though she did things I didn't like, I cared about her.
But M.K. was another matter. Could have been cause she's not an overly friendly cat. Or could be . . . well, I don't rightly know.
But I didn't like her. Care for her. Love her.
Until she took a liking to me.
I guess I felt sorry for her, with Son # 1 gone so much. So when she mewed and drug her "string" into our great room so I could have the privilege of running around the kitchen for her to chase, I started to enjoy playing with her.
And then she's got these BIG yellow eyes that are totally gorgeous. And she started making up to me. When she wanted petting, she'd allow me to pet her majesty's head a little. And she deigns now and then to sit at my feet or near me.
She also is the only cat on our hobby farm that can open the door to go out and then paw it to come back in. Darling!
She still doesn't want picked up. She won't ever be a lap cat. She's spoiled and touchy and self-centered.
But I love her.
You write to me that it's not possible. The word is not French. --Napoleon