For part I:   https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/13/i-was-born-in-the-middle-of-winter/
Part II: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/20/part-ii-i-was-born-on-an-amish-farm-in-the-middle-of-winter/
Part III: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/27/part-iii-i-was-born-on-an-amish-farm-in-the-middle-of-winter/

I was not born on an Amish farm in the middle of winter, but I live with the one who was.  I was born in the middle of summer in Peachbottom, PA, near a chain link fence.  By the time I was six months old I’d had a litter of kittens.  At eight months, someone tossed me from a car window by my forearm.  I walked with a limp like Quasimodo for a long time.  I landed in a soft place eventually, but that’s another story for another time.

This part of my story is about Mr. Bean, who blasted into my life after we lost our dog, Beez.  Beez and I were best of friends, and now he’s gone.  My people adopted this wiry, wild-eyed kitten who lacks manners.  Though our pasts have similarities—each of us was neglected and suffered from hunger—I’m more philosophic than Bean is.  I see things as they are, and I soften into them.  Despite Mr. Bean’s behavior toward me, I conduct myself exactly as I chose to be.  I never bite.  I am kind, always.  I live peacefully.  It’s my hope that by walking my path, I will teach this young one.  In the meantime, I’m chased, pounced upon, and chewed on.  If I could sigh, I would.  But things are exactly as they are, and I move through my world in relative serenity, sometimes better than others.

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