Lifestyles
Tova rushed into her parents' room. "What's wrong, Papa?"
"Let me ask you a question," said Shlomo. "Why does a cow give milk?"
"Everyone knows that, Papa. A cow gives milk because she eats grass."
Shlomo and Rivka beamed at their youngest daughter.
"What a wise child you are," said Shlomo. "So if we feed grass to our hens, they will still lay eggs, but they will also give us milk."
"Shlomo," said Rivka, "you are a genius."
"I am indeed," said Shlomo, and he blushed.
Tova rushed into her parents' room. "What's wrong, Papa?"
"Let me ask you a question," said Shlomo. "Why does a cow give milk?"
"Everyone knows that, Papa. A cow gives milk because she eats grass."
Shlomo and Rivka beamed at their youngest daughter.
"What a wise child you are," said Shlomo. "So if we feed grass to our hens, they will still lay eggs, but they will also give us milk."
"Shlomo," said Rivka, "you are a genius."
"I am indeed," said Shlomo, and he blushed.
"I don't like cats," Simon said. "They're dirty."
"They're not dirty," I said, defending Blinky and all of catkind. "They wash themselves all the time."
"They wash themselves with their tongue," he said and made a face like he was grossed out. "But if you love cats, then this is the place to be. There are dozens and dozens of them here. I'll show you."
My desire to get out of the junkyard wasn't as strong as my curiosity. Why would there be dozens of cats here?
