Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • It was 1962. My high-school boyfriend was very shy, sweet, innocent and trusting. My mother was a card and a big tease.

    Hal would come over and sit beside us on the long couch in our living room. Taffy, the cat would wander into the room, and my mother would say, "Harold, stop kicking the cat."

    "I'm not kicking the cat," Hal would say, all worried.

    This went on for several years. Every time he came over, my mother told him to stop kicking the cat.

    It's amazing that 50 years later, we're still friends.


    *


    This happened in DeWitt, NY, but Cowbird doesn't list DeWitt as a place. It's a real place!
    (Photo by Keith Taitt.)
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.