Here's another one from my family's archives:

Grendal and the Milk Separator

Father never liked cats, nor was he especially fond of Grendal our newest little gray kitten who was always getting into everything, and then would try to climb into Father's lap. As I remember it we were all having breakfast in the farm kitchen and Father was pouring milk into the big milk separator in the corner of the room. Milk separators are machines designed to separate milk into cream and skim milk by centrifugal force, sort of like a particle accelerator; ours was a modern one run by electricity. Anyway, father flipped on the switch and sat down for breakfast when one of us noticed Grendal disappearing under the machine. Mother immediately got down on all fours and tried to grab her tail but she was already climbing out of reach, amidst the grinding gears. Mother was about to pull the plug to stop the machine but was stopped by Father who was justifiably concerned about ruining a morning's work for some rude little animal, and besides he hadn't heard a single screech. So we all continued eating our breakfast, with an occasional glance at the machine, whirling out its cream and skim milk. Father was whistling a cheerful tune, which I think was "Dunderbeck's Machine." When the machine had completed its cycle, father got out his screwdriver, removed the side cover plate and there was Grendal siting in the drip pan, somewhat greasy but none the worse otherwise, still staring at the maze of gears. From that day on, Grendal was inseparable from her favorite hangout whenever Father was processing the milk.