A Cruel Act

When John was a boy, he lived on his family’s farm in Fulton County. He was the oldest of six kids. His sister, Meely, and Harry where the closest to him in age and they played together whenever possible. Their father, though, was not a kind man. He believed that children were given of God as work hands and he often worked the kids all day long. They were used to hard work, long hours and pain. John’s father believed in hitting. He also believed in taking the joy from things.
John was ten years old the summer that eight year old Meely found the kittens in the hay loft. Their father did not like cats but he tolerated them to keep the mice and rats down. Meely had been forking hay through the rough opening down to the barn floor below when she heard the mewling of the little kittens. She stopped forking hay and looked for the source. She found them in a little corner of the barn loft. Five pretty kittens newly born. There was a gold one, two black ones and three that were black flecked with gold. They were pretty.
For a moment work stopped. Harry was only six, and so he had to go see the kittens as soon as Meely shouted down the hole about her find. John knew it was risky but kittens were a temptation. They’d just look for a moment, and then get back to work. Father was in a far field cutting hay so they had the time.
The three children watched the kittens squirming in amazement. Meely gently stroked their fur and Harry did the same. John watched the gold kitten and wished that he could make a pet out of it, but his father would never have allowed such a thing. Everything had to be useful or John’s father would not tolerate it.
A sudden shifting of light was their only warning that someone was there. John stiffened knowing instinctively who it was. Father pushed his way in and saw the squirming kittens. By now the old barn cat had joined the party and was licking proudly at her brood.
“So this is what you do when I am working,” Father roared. The anger was instant and John’s stomach dropped. “Looking at kittens when I told you to feed the cows. Well I won’t have that. We don’t need all those damned cats anyhow.”
John’s father grabbed an old feed sack and tossed the squeeling kittens into it. The kids remained mute but Meely’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She knew better than to cry. It would only make matters worse.
John’s father leered at them. “Get to work! I’ll deal with this.” He shook the bag and turned to go.
Hours later John was told to walk the cows down the lane to a new pasture where the creek ran through so the beasts could get water. He did so without thinking. The death of the kittens was only one more moment of pain for the children, and they never even bothered to think that it could be any other way.
John saw the old sack in the deep water. Their father had weighted it with rocks and thrown it in. He had tied it with a hank of cloth.
It was pointless, but John waded in and pulled it out. There was an anger and a coldness in his heart about how easily his father could snuff out life. John hated him for it, but hate was such a common emotion that he did not question it.
He took the sack back to the barn with him and him and when he had the chance that night he buried the little kittens under the old cherry tree beside the barn. It was his way of acknowledging that their lives had meant something. He had taken them out of the bag and tucked them into a cigar box as a casket. He had laid fresh hay in it to soften their death.
Days later Meely came running up to John. “Johnny,” she cried in a hoarse whisper. “I think there’s more kittens here. We gotta find them and hide them from Father.” There was a wild desperation in her eyes.
John’s heart sank. Surely not again. He followed Meely out to the old cherry tree and sure enough he heard the mewling sounds of kittens. It came from where he had buried the tiny beasties days earlier. It could not be, he thought. He fell to his knees and pawed up the earth. Had they still been alive? He found the box in minutes but one quick flip of the lid assured him that they were dead. Meely stood watching in stark horror.
John returned the box to its grave, and then told Meely what he had done. She was fiercely glad for John’s act of compassion, but what about the kitten sounds? From that time on, the whole family heard the sounds of newly born kittens around the cherry tree. The children were not afraid of them, but John noticed that their father began to avoid that area. He must have heard them, too. He also noticed that their father no longer drowned the barn kitten. He let them grow until they could be taken away from their mother, and then he gave them away.
Was it possible that those little kittens were haunting them? John always believed that they did so. He wondered if they haunted because of his act of kindness or his father’s cruelty? It really did not matter, though, because those kittens did haunt the farm for many years, and he was glad that for once his father could not escape the consequences of his actions.