Although Jasmine is a barn cat, she frolics near the house. Her big belly does not deter her from playful rubs against my grandson’s leg. We stand outside Betty Johnson’s farmhouse, eager for additional delights.
“Come with us Nicky,” I say to my grandson. “We’ll pet calves in the barn.”
Nicky hesitates. “Will she have kittens?”
About the Author
I write personal essays, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, and self-development articles from my home in Madison, Wisconsin.