Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Super Man.

I am asking each of my siblings to write down a (happy) memory they have of our Dad, to be given to him for Father's Day.
This is my rough draft:

I grew up on a small farm in Utah. When I was about seven years old, I woke late one night to the faint sound of a kitten mewing. From my upstairs bedroom, I could tell that the sad cries were coming from our hay shed at the far edge of our property.
For whatever reason, my ears have always been fine tuned to recognize the sound of any creature in distress. I did everything I could think of to block out the pathetic sound. From previous experience, I knew how my parents would react to being woken in the middle of the night for something as silly as a kitten.
A pillow over my head and seven primary songs later, I was in tears at the foot of my parents bed. My father could see that I was very upset and knew how much I cared for animals, so he told me to run and get my shoes and coat on.

Out in the hay shed, it was cold enough to see our breath and make me wish that I was wearing more than my Strawberry Shortcake nightgown, but the kitten's mewing was much louder now that we were out here. My father moved hay bale after hay bale until he finally found a scrawny orange kitten only a few weeks old. I named her "Squirt" because of her size and my favorite Soda.

My Dad was Superman in long underwear and work boots that night.

By the time we got back into the house, my eyes and throat were swelling shut because I have always been allergic to cats (and hay), so Superman slept out on the sofa with the kittens advocate, a.k.a semi-super girl.

Coming soon, "the day Superdad and semi-super girl rescued a calf named "meat"."


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