On "Girl with Kitten" by Emily Farmer

In my kitchen, I pour a saucer of milk for my kitten, Shadow, out of an old chestnut-brown jug. I wear a cotton, yellow, dress, with small bits of lace at the neck. Shadow pokes her head out of her basket, sniffing the milk. Her large blue eyes watch the milk slide into the saucer. I set it down on the floor in front of her. She eagerly laps it up. She is very thirsty. Come to think of it, I'm hungry. I pour myself a bowl of porridge and a glass of milk. We both eat our breakfasts quickly, and I wash my hands before running upstairs. I hear my baby brother crying. Shadow tries to follow me, but cannot, because her little paws cannot reach the steps, and she is afraid of heights. I sigh, picking her up and walking slowly to my brothers' room. I will now have to help both of them reach the shelf where the porridge is kept. I sigh again, wishing mother and father would come home from church quickly. Shadow purrs and rubs against my leg. I laugh. ''Not right now, Shadow, not right now.''