Earlier this week we went for a walk by the cornfield, and the cutest brown-and-black kitten came out and followed us, and after awhile its brother, gray-and-white, came out too. We couldn’t persuade them to come home with us (maybe my little sister’s bicycle was slightly inhibitory). Yesterday evening we walked by there again, and the gray one came out right away, but the brown one never showed up. The gray one (Pepper, we decided to call him) was running in circles around our feet, miaowing, and generally trying to get stepped on. This time he did follow us home. Now, I liked the brown one better, and I don’t like cats generally (they’re way too stuck-up), compared to dogs. But this little kitten followed us home. (So ok, it did have a little encouragement in the form of all of us petting it, me carrying it some, and all the girls promising to feed it when we got home.) My father, on the other hand, despises pets, and my brother is allergic to cats. But it’s a very cute kitten, and really thin. So when it came home, we dug up some rice and meat that ready to be thrown away, and gave it to Pepper. Surprise, surprise, it stayed around overnight. So of course we gave it some milk for breakfast, and some sausage, and stale bread (he didn’t like that last one). We’ve been explaining to our father that he will be a wonderful mouse-catcher, and maybe even eat the moles that are tearing up the grass. (So far, unfortunately, Pepper seems far more interested in the bird-feeder and the chipmunks.) We think somebody must have abandoned the two of them out here, because they’re not shy at all, and like to be petted and picked up. Pepper wasn’t at all phased by five of us holding it, petting it, and arguing with each other all at once, so it must have been a family of ten children that abandoned it. For not being a dog, it’s the most pettable and holdable cat I’ve ever seen.