Radish

October 24, 2024

The sun was beginning to set and the warmth was disappearing along with it. I was hurriedly trying to gather the last of the produce from the garden before the frost that was sure to come over the night. My garden had been more productive this year than it had in the past, and I was so excited to spend some time canning and preserving. I knew I would be up far too late planning out what I was going to make with what, but I already knew I was going to be making pickled radishes for my sister for her birthday, she had gone through the last batch I made in less than a month, and had been begging me to make more since.

I dug my fingers into the cold earth to retrieve the potatoes and was startled by a soft, warm little body brushing against my wrist. I started and fell back, landing hard on my bum, only to see a small scared little kitten, hiding between the potatoes and pumpkins. A small squeak escaped from their tiny face as they tried to back away and fell over a large pumpkin that I had left to be picked last, knowing it would be heavier duty than the root veggies that had already, miraculously, made it through the first frost.

“Hi, little guy.” I whispered to the sweet creature, as warmly as I could. “You don’t have to be afraid.” I propped myself up on my heels, in attempt to alleviate some of the pressure on my, now bruised, tailbone. “Come here, I’m not going to hurt you.” My every movement made him press himself closer to the large pumpkin, and open his amber eyes even wider. I reached out to him and, moving as quickly as I could, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in close to my chest. His poor little paws were ice cold against the inside of my wrist, and I forgot about the basket I was gathering my veggies in.

Upon entering my cottage, I was happy to see that my stove was still ablaze, and that the main living space was warm and cozy. There was a small blanket on the chair near by, and I grabbed it, making it into a little nest to bundle the sweet kitten in. After making him into a little burrito, I rushed to the kitchen to see what I could pull together for him to eat. He seemed awfully little, so I started with some warm milk, I heated up on the stove in front of him.

I had always been a pet person, but it had been since childhood that I had a pet of my very own, and it felt right. He still wasn’t sure about me, but I was sure about him; we were going to be fast friends. “I’ll name you, Radish.” I told him as I scratched his little orange head.