I like kitties, but I'm allergic to them. When I was a kid, I used to go to my Grandma's farm in Iowa every summer. She had 20 or 30 cats running around her farm, alot of them were wild. Grandma always knew which female cats were pregnant and when they'd had their babies. But since the cats were wild, they'd hide their kittens in the hog house, pole barn or chicken house. So every morning, me and Grandma would get up at the crack of dawn, stand out in the middle of the farm lot where you could see every building, and we'd yell "Here kitty, kitty, kitty..." until we'd see one of the mother cats, and which barn she'd came from. Then we'd know the general location of her kittens. I would spend the next few days and sometimes even weeks looking for those little critters with my Grandma. When we finally would find them, (and often times they were hidden in the most odd places), we would bring them inside the house and tame them down while they were still young. And we'd give the mother cat bologna to tide her over til we brought her babies back. One time I stepped on a kitty's head and crushed it. It died. But it took a few hours, and really sucked. I hated that day.
