With farm fields comes mice.

Some of my first memories involve our black and white cat named "Friskie" because he acted that way. Every time frisky went out, he was free to come and go as he pleased, he returned bearing gifts. The mice would be alive most times. I guess he figured that we would also be entertained by how they played dead when you step on them. My mother was not liking that game at all.

^source

Friskie was purchased for practical reasons. His job was to keep the mice at bay. He only asked to go out when the house was mouse free.

My father called Friskie "that infernal cat" because Friskie seemed to taunt him. One day, he had his belt off and was trying to get Friskie out from behind his chair. My dad was in his chair, a lazy-boy, and Friskie had climbed up the back and tapped the top of my Dad's head. There was very little hair up top there and this scenario had played out quite often. Instead of getting up and chasing Friskie, he started to swing his belt so that it wrapped around the back of the chair in an effort to teach "that infernal cat" a lesson.

Friskie ended up under the couch and I was elected to get him out from under there. When I nudged him a few times, he came out and bit me on the leg, my inner thigh to be exact. There were two perfect puncture marks that were welling up with blood every time I would wipe them off.

The other kids went to school that day. I went with my mother to the doctor for a tetanus shot. I am not sure if I was four years old when I was bitten, but I was younger than seven for sure.

This same house will be my home and the set for many other stories from the time I was four until my son turns four which covers thirty years.

This same house will be my home and the set for many other stories from the time I was four until my son turns four which covers thirty years.