|From Adriana Baking|
I haven’t lived nearly long enough to write of childhood, but in this case, I write with experience.
Since I was young, I’ve loved animals. My sister would volunteer to take the the nursery school’s rabbits home for Christmas vacation, then watch the teachers lock up her nursery classroom, leaving it too cold and lonely for two little bunnies to stay in. Once we took them home, I loved feeding them carrots through the wire bars of their enclosure, watching them nibble at them until only a few orange shreds were left. They liked mint leaves too, and I would give them each a few sprigs for a post-dinner snack.
When I was in elementary school, I harbored a scrawny, blind kitten, who was abandoned by its mother, and desperately hoped to revive it from its near state of death. I could not keep him inside, for our house cat, Snowball, disliked- no, abhorred, all other cats with such a strong passion she could probably set fire to a whole forest of trees. The kitten eventually died, to my great dismay, and I didn’t get over it very easily. Read the rest of this entry »