Arts is Alive in Nigeria



(For Children Ages 12 to 13)

Mother set the ladder up that first day of the year, and climbed into my tree house. As soon as she walked into the tree house, she started to sneeze, and her eyes clouded with tears. Mr. Joe strutted out to greet us, and mother stopped shot, pointed at the cat, and said,

“What is that?’
“Oh, meet Mr. Joe, Mother, I said, she is one of my cats.”
“One of your what? Why did you not tell me that you have cats, and what kind of cat is he?”
“House cat, Mother. Pss,” I called my other cats.

Silver, the curious one ran out, rubbed and purred around my legs. Silver gets into everything, even into things and places that cats are not allowed to go. I have to keep my eyes on him all the time.

Speedy, the fast one, ran under a pile of junk, and was peering at us from under the junk. Speedy gets her kicks from racing into rooms as I open the doors.

Wolverine, the pretty one, just sat there looking at us. Wolverine likes grooming himself, and likes everything around him to be clean. He is always cleaning or being cleaned.

My mother, still sneezing, wanted to know why I kept so many of them. This was her first visit to my tree house in a year, and she was surprised to see four cats living in my tree house, and each of them answering to some crazy name.

I did not know that Mother was allergic to cats. I have always loved cats, but could never keep them. My mother always said that, with so many mouths to feed, we kids must never bring pets home, so I kept my love for animals to myself. But as soon as I had my tree house, I brought Mr Joe home to my tree house. She turned out to be a female cat, but she has learned to answer to Mr. Joe so I let her keep the name ... (Click here to read more)
Website Builder