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As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Each wife had seven sacks; each sack had seven cats; each cat had seven kits. Kits, cats, sacks and wives. How many were going to St. Ives?

I don’t know how many were going to St. Ives but I do know that they would have to go far beyond the Northern Sea to get “shed” of the cats and kits they were totin’ in those sacks.

I know, for I am a wife from St. Ives.

Some time back, a tiny kitten mysteriously appeared at my mailbox. As are all kittens, it was cute and cuddly. Also, as all little girl kittens do, it grew up to be a cat and began to have a host of suiters. And, along came the baby carriage.

I grew up with animals. We had cows, horses, chickens, turkeys, rabbits and a pig that was always in the pen getting fatten for Mama to sell for her Christmas money. I had the honor of slopin’ the hog each night.

I knew animals from head to tail. So, when I had children, they genetically desired animals. But, when they went away to school I inherited their cats, dogs, goats, sheep, critters and crawlers.  And, I made the best of being Ol’ Mother Hubbard.

But, at this time of my life, I did not, do not, want anything lying around my house eating and sleeping while I’m at work. So, I was not happy to be the keeper of the kitten that was dropped off at the mailbox. When little miss mailbox blessed me with three baby kittens, I was beyond unhappy.   

Even though the kittens are as cute as a bug’s ear, I want them to have a fur-ever home  … somewhere fur away. But how?

My resume of note includes World Book salesperson so I know what it’s like for people to cross the street to avoid a sales pitch and to have doors closed on my toes. But, I would rather try to sell encyclopedias in this computer-kind of world than to try to give away three of the world’s cutest kittens.

So, I’ve resorted to offering incentives — everything short of a kidney and two front teeth.  But, no, as soon as the “k” sounds slips from my lips, I’m left all alone.

Now, If you have read this and think it’s a plea for someone to adopt three ilittle kittens …  as Andy Griffith would say, you’d be “as right as rain.”