We had lots and lots of cats when I was a little girl. Cats had a job to do. Sure they were pets, too, with names and everything, but never, ever in the house. That would be like bringing Old Belle or Red Rose into the house. Even Bernie, our dog, only came in the house when it was super-duper cold outside.
Mom said cats and cows and pigs keep each other warm in the barn. Plus they had on winter coats just like us, only theirs was attached and they grew it instead of going to Penny’s or getting a hand-me-down from Uncle Frank’s kids. Not the Uncle Frank that was Dad’s brother, the Uncle Frank that was a doctor and was Grandma Z’s brother. Dr. Uncle Frank had a whole different last name that made it seem like he never saw Poland. Mom said that’s because it was hard in the old days to be Polish and be a doctor.
Anyways, Uncle Frank gave us lots of clothes his kids got tired of or never wore in the first place. Sometimes they still had the tags on. Sometimes we wore the clothes just like they were, but most the time Continue reading