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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUSSY MEOW ***</div>
<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="cover"></div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span></p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_frontis">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="My Name is Meow">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">My Name is Meow</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlepage.jpg" alt="title page"></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="titlepage">
<h1><i>PUSSY MEOW</i>:</h1>
<p><span class="xlarge"><i>The Autobiography of a Cat</i></span></p>
<p><i>BY</i><br>
<span class="large"><i>S. LOUISE PATTESON</i></span></p>
<p><i>With an Introduction by<br>
SARAH K. BOLTON</i></p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlepagelogo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></div>
<p>PHILADELPHIA<br>
<span class="large">GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO</span><br>
103-105 SOUTH FIFTEENTH STREET</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center">
Copyright, 1901<br>
<br>
<span class="smcap">By George W. Jacobs</span> & <span class="smcap">Co.</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="center"><span class="large"><i>To “Guy”</i></span></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Preface</i></h2>
</div>
<div class="blockquot">
<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the fall of 1895, while the National Convention
of the S. P. C. A. was in session in Cleveland,
a group of people stood in the assembly room one
day discussing “Black Beauty” and “Beautiful
Joe.” One expressed the hope that as the horse
and the dog had now secured a public hearing,
some one would be willing to undertake the same
for the cat. That same evening “Pussy Meow”
began writing her story. Its only object is to
breathe out the joys, the sorrows and the longings
of a misunderstood and much maligned fellow-creature,
and to secure for her the consideration
which humanity owes to the dumb.</p>
<p><i>Cleveland, O., 1901.</i></p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span></p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Contents</i></h2>
</div>
<table>
<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAP.</small></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"> <small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td>Introduction</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11"> 11</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> Early Recollections</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17"> 17</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> Budge and Toddy</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22"> 22</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> My Reasons for writing this Story</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28"> 28</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> A Pleasant Outing</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34"> 34</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> Some Experiences on the Farm</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41"> 41</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> Home Again</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47"> 47</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> New Companions</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52"> 52</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> Budge and Toddy the Second</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59"> 59</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> A Happy Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64"> 64</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> Our Happiest Days</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71"> 71</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> Betsy Whitefoot</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76"> 76</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td> Sunshine and Shadow</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84"> 84</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td> Jack</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91"> 91</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td> Christmas</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_96"> 96</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td> Old Blackie</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102"> 102</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td> My Great Sorrow</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109"> 109</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td> The Kind Providence</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115"> 115</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td> A Welcome Visitor</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125"> 125</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td> A Joyful Reunion</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131"> 131</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td> A New Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137"> 137</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td> Our Winged Friends</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143"> 143</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td> New Neighbors</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151"> 151</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td> Our Summer Outing</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157"> 157</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td> Raising a Family</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165"> 165</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXV.</td><td> Breaking Home Ties</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_172"> 172</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXVI.</td><td> A Friendly Chat</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178"> 178</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXVII.</td><td> Another Home</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185"> 185</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td><td> Booker T. Washington and Admiral Dewey     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194"> 194</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXIX.</td><td> Two Far Journeys</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_203"> 203</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXX.</td><td> The Burglar Man</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_214"> 214</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXXI.</td><td> A Friend in Need</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_222"> 222</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tdr">XXXII.</td><td> A Kittie Party</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230"> 230</a></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Illustrations</i></h2>
</div>
<table>
<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td>My Name is Meow</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"> <i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Guy</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28"> 28</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>My friend Dennis</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29"> 29</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>He crawled in and fell asleep</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72"> 72</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Jack</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91"> 91</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>He told me a very interesting story</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93"> 93</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>The two were holding a friendly talk in the garden</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141"> 141</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Toddy—Mrs. Smith’s particular friend</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191"> 191</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Booker T. Washington</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_194"> 194</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Snowdrop</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_210"> 210</a></td></tr>
<tr><td>Hiddigeigei, Patsy, and Lady Jane Grey</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_230"> 230</a></td></tr>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Introduction</i></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> read with great interest this true story of
“Pussy Meow,” written by one, who, in the midst
of a very busy life, finds time to be a devoted
friend to the speechless, and to study their nature
and habits. The life of the author has been full
of noble deeds for animals, and I am glad of an
opportunity to say how much I wish all women
would do likewise.</p>
<p>The book abounds in practical suggestions about
the care, the food, the comfort, and the needs of
the animal world, blended so pleasantly with the
story that both young people and adults will find it
charming and helpful. The picture of the happy
home of mother and child, where cats sleep in the
sun, or kittens frolic and make merry with their
human friends, will linger in one’s mind long after
the book is closed. Now one’s heart is touched by
the pathetic death of a homeless creature, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>
again one laughs at the winsome and intelligent
acts of our dumb companions.</p>
<p>After reading the book, some will remember to
make their pets happy on Christmas day, rather
than spend all for personal enjoyment. Some, it
is hoped, when going into the country for the
summer, or for a vacation, will take their cats
with them, as did the writer of “Pussy Meow,”
and not let them starve alone at home; or, on returning
to the city, leave them on ocean beaches,
or deserted mountain-tops, to die of hunger and
cold.</p>
<p>Cats have had a varied history. In Egypt, in
early times, they were loved and worshiped. At
death they were embalmed, and given a costly
funeral. Cambyses, the son of Cyrus the Great,
when he conquered Egypt, placed a number of cats
and dogs at the head of his army, and the Egyptians
unwilling to kill the creatures they loved,
would not defend themselves, and became an easy
prey. The present Shah of Persia, it is said, has
fifty petted cats, each cared for by an attendant,
and these accompany him in his travels.</p>
<p>Cats have been loved by noted persons through
the centuries. Mahomet cut off the sleeve of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>
robe rather than awaken the pet cat who slept upon
it. Petrarch loved his cat and had it embalmed at
death. Montaigne could do his best writing only
when his left hand fondled his cat.</p>
<p>The love of sailors and soldiers for their pets is
well known. In the dreadful explosion of the
Maine before Havana, two of the three cats belonging
to the sailors, perished, but Tom, thirteen years
old, beloved by all the seamen, was saved. He
was asleep three decks down, or nearly thirty feet
below the upper deck. In the agony of dying
men, probably nobody thought of Tom. In the
morning he was discovered crying piteously, on
that part of the wreck which remained above the
water. Commodore Wainwright hastened to take
him off in a boat to the Fern, where he was
warmly welcomed.</p>
<p>Nothing attracted me more on the great battle-ship
Indiana, battered in the war with Spain, than
a basket containing a cat and five kittens, whom
the sailors were shielding from the sun with a piece
of canvas, and talking to them in terms of endearment.</p>
<p>“Take care of my cat!” were the last words of
Dr. Stark, a British surgeon killed by a shell at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>
Ladysmith, in the war with the Boers. The
animal had been his constant companion.</p>
<p>“The cat,” as Harrison Weir says, “is not only
a very useful animal about the house and premises,
but is also ornamental. It is lithe and beautiful in
form, and graceful in action.”</p>
<p>Another well-known English writer says, “There
is no animal in existence more sensitive and capable
of attachment than the domestic cat, or any
of her progeny.”</p>
<p>Cats have often saved life; also houses from
burning. At Geneva, N. Y., a child of three attempted
to take a rattlesnake. A pet Maltese cat
killed it, and saved the child. A similar thing
happened in Pennsylvania.</p>
<p>A woman in New York City took into her house
a stray and hungry cat. A year later by the explosion
of a lamp, the house was set on fire. The
cries of the cat aroused the owner, and thus all the
inmates of the tenement house were saved.</p>
<p>On the Pacific Coast, the steamer Wildwood
went to the bottom of the bay. There was but
one man asleep on board at the time of sinking.
The boat’s cat scratched the face of the sleeper,
who threw her away from him. Again she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>
scratched his face, and cried so vigorously that the
man was aroused, climbed the mast, and was
rescued.</p>
<p>Cats are often devoted to animals, as well as to
persons. My own pet cat, Maltese and white, was
the loving friend of my great St. Bernard dog,
Bernie. When the mate of the Maltese died, the
cat came to the dog, apparently for sympathy.
For a year they walked together, shared their bed,
and were like human friends. The dog died when
six years old, and the lonely cat soon followed, and
was buried beside Bernie.</p>
<p>We seem to be coming into a nobler civilization.
Queen Victoria said at the Jubilee meeting of the
Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals: “No civilization is complete which does
not include the dumb and defenseless of God’s
creatures within the sphere of charity and
mercy.”</p>
<p>We are growing kinder to animals; homes are
being provided for the homeless. There are homes
for cats in Dublin, in London, and other English
cities, as well as some in Egypt and India. The
Gifford Sheltering Home for Animals, in Boston, is
doing great good; also the Frances Power Cobbe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>
Refuge in Indianapolis, Indiana. We are teaching
our children to be kind to every living creature.
May this story of “Pussy Meow” help forward the
good work.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Sarah K. Bolton.</span></p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span></p>
<p class="ph2"><i>Pussy Meow</i></p>
<hr class="tiny">
<h2 class="nobreak">I<br>
<small>EARLY RECOLLECTIONS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I am</span> a little pussy cat, and my name is Meow.</p>
<p>When I was a very small kitty, I lived with my
mother and two other kittens in a nice green yard.
My mother was a purple Maltese, and she used to
tell us with great pride how, as a kitten, she was
brought here by her mistress from old Virginia.
Her name was Malta, and her children were Nora,
Fluffie and Trix.</p>
<p>I was Fluffie.</p>
<p>And we had such a dear little mistress.</p>
<p>Her full name was Annebelle Virginia Lowery,
but they called her “Virgie” for short. She had
beautiful golden curls, and eyes the color of the
sky when the sun shines. Her cheeks were like
two little rosy cushions.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>Every morning a “bus,” filled with pretty children,
called to take Miss Virgie to the kindergarten,
and sometimes she would take Miriam and
Mildred with her. I used to wish she would take
me too.</p>
<p>In the garden Miss Virgie had a little playhouse,
in a sunny corner of which was our basket and
rug, and here also lived Miriam and Mildred. On
pleasant afternoons the nurse would bring Miriam
and Mildred out under a big shade-tree where there
was a bench and a table; and here Miss Virgie
sometimes “served tea” in dainty blue china, while
we kittens would frolic among the bushes and learn
to climb trees. But poor Miriam and Mildred could
not have any such fun as we did; they just remained
seated on the bench all the time; you see
they were only dollies.</p>
<p>My mother could climb clear up to the tops of
the tallest trees, and she was allowed to go wherever
she pleased, because she was so wise.</p>
<p>Sometimes she would be gone away a long time,
and upon her return would bring a mouse or a
sparrow for us, and teach us how to play with it.
But our favorite plaything was her long bushy tail,
of which she seemed to be very proud, and which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>
she would twist and toss and sway before our eyes
in the most tantalizing fashion. Of course, we
would all take our turn at trying to catch it, but the
minute we thought we had a good hold, the first
thing we knew the tail would be over on the other
side; and then by the time we got over there, it
would be back where it was before. Many times,
when, after long chasing, I finally caught hold of the
elusive member, and while holding on to it with all
my might, I could feel it slipping and sliding through
my claws, and before I knew it had gone from me,
I would see her proudly waving it in the air again.</p>
<p>One morning, when my mother had gone away
as usual, I saw some children at play on the sidewalk,
and I thought how nice it would be to be with
them. It was very naughty for me to think of such
a thing, because we had been told never to go outside
the yard; and as neither Trix nor Nora would
go with me, I went alone.</p>
<p>As soon as I reached the sidewalk, a big black
dog came across the street and barked at me. I
started to run back through the gate, but it had
closed, and I hadn’t time to look for a hole to
crawl through. So I ran down the sidewalk, trembling
with fright.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>When I had run a long way, I went into a yard,
but the people there didn’t like cats; a boy was
sent to chase me through the gate, and I continued
my wearisome journey. How I did wish that
somebody would take me up, or show me the way
home; but nobody seemed to care what became
of me. Finally, being so very tired, I crawled
in under a fence, and seeing no one around, I lay
down in the corner and went to sleep.</p>
<p>I do not know how long I lay there. When I
awoke the moon was shining, and I continued my
journey down the sidewalk, hoping to find my yard.
But when after a long walk I didn’t find it, not
knowing what else to do, I sat down by a tree and
began to cry.</p>
<p>To make me still more wretched and unhappy,
two boys came along, and one of them started to pelt
me with stones. He was the same boy that had
chased me out of his yard that very morning. I
suppose he would have killed me had not a kind
lady come along just at that moment. I was trying
to hide behind the tree so the stones would not hit
me, but as soon as the lady saw me, she called one
of the boys by name. “Teddy, dear,” said she,
“I am surprised to see that you will allow such a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>
heartless thing as this to happen in your presence.
Think how your mother would feel if she knew of
it.”</p>
<p>The lady then stooped down and talked very
kindly to me, and I answered her; and when she
got up to go, I followed, and cried after her so
loudly that she finally picked me up and took me
with her. Oh, how glad I was to get away from
that dreadful boy and his stones! I kissed the
gloves on the hands that held me to show my
thankfulness.</p>
<p>My lady friend had walked but a short distance
when she stopped at a little house and rang the
bell; but the house was dark, and it was a long
time before any one opened the door. At last a
lady came out, and my friend said, “Isn’t this one
of your kittens?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said the lady, without even looking at
me, “they run away every little while.”</p>
<p>Then she took me out of my friend’s hands and
carried me to the kitchen, and put me in a basket
that had a nice soft pad in it, and some other cats.
But they did not notice me, and very soon I fell
asleep and forgot the day’s troubles.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">II<br>
<small>BUDGE AND TODDY</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning I was still in the basket when
I heard some one say: “Do look, here is a new
kitten, a tiger! it must be the one I took in last
night, thinking it was mine.” The voice was the
same that I had heard at the door the evening
before.</p>
<p>For a moment I feared that I should lose my
nice new home; but when I saw the lady’s round,
good-natured face, I knew that she could not find
it in her heart to turn away a helpless little creature
like me, even if she had taken me in by mistake.</p>
<p>After petting the other kittens a while, the lady
took me up and looked into my eyes, and said I
had a good face. Then a big boy came out and
she put me into his arms. I trembled when he
took me, for I had learned to be afraid of boys.
But this boy handled me very gently, and after
looking me all over carefully and pressing me
fondly to his cheek, he said, “Why, mamma, this is a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>
beautiful kitty! Won’t you let her stay?” Then
he put me very tenderly back into the basket.</p>
<p>“She looks so much like our old Meow,” said
the lady, “I think we will keep her.” You can
imagine that this made me very happy.</p>
<p>They named me “Meow,” and the other two
cats were “Budge” and “Toddy.” They were
Maltese.</p>
<p>For a time Budge and Toddy acted anything but
friendly toward me, but as they were bigger than I,
I just kept very quiet, while they stood by the edge
of the basket, humping their backs, bristling their
tails and grinning at me to their hearts’ content.
Pretty soon mistress came out with our breakfast,
and they ran to meet her; but I remained in the
basket until invited to join them. I was glad mistress
stayed while we ate, for Budge gave an angry
growl every now and then, and Toddy tried his
best to crowd me out of the dish. But the breakfast
tasted good just the same, because a day’s fasting
had made me very hungry.</p>
<p>I saw at once that Budge and Toddy were very
well-bred cats, for they washed themselves as soon
as they had finished the meal, just as my dear
mother had taught me to do. But being in a new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>
place, and amid strange surroundings, somehow I
forgot myself for a time, and while Budge and
Toddy washed I just sat and watched them. When
Toddy had finished, to my great surprise he came
over and started to wash me too. I suppose he
thought I hadn’t been properly taught because I
sat and watched him instead of washing myself.
But I soon showed him that he was mistaken, and I
have ever since strictly observed the rule of washing
after meals.</p>
<p>They say folks wash before meals, and that only
cats wait until afterward. The reason for this is,
as I have heard, that once a cat had caught a nice
fat mouse, and was just going to make a dinner of
her, when Mousie said: “Shame on you, to eat
without first washing yourself.” So the cat stopped
to wash; and while she did so, Mousie ran back
into her hole.</p>
<p>When Budge and Toddy saw that I had really
come amongst them to stay they wanted to know
where I had come from, and I very gladly told
them. As I talked about my proud and beautiful
Virginia mother, and my sweet little mistress, Miss
Virgie, and her playhouse, they kept moving closer
and closer to me; and when I finished, Toddy said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>
he hoped I would stay, and that he and Budge
would do all they could to make it pleasant for me.
They both begged me to forgive them for their
spiteful conduct in the early morning; from that
time on they acted very kindly toward me, and I
was permitted to join them in their play.</p>
<p>I soon found that they had many cozy corners
all around the yard, as well as in the house, and
one of our favorite places was under the porch,
where we used to go for safety. You may wonder
what I mean by “safety,” when we have such a
kind mistress and such a good home. I will
tell you.</p>
<p>Mistress and the boy are away all day, and very
often during those days when we were small, helpless
kittens, a certain little boy would come into our
yard and annoy us. He had no one to play with,
and I suppose he wanted to play with us, but he
didn’t know how. How I did wish that the “bus”
would come and take him to the kindergarten.</p>
<p>Whenever he came in, if we saw him in time, we
would run as fast as we could and crawl in between
the latticework under the porch, and hide in there
till he had gone.</p>
<p>As time went by the fur on my back and sides<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>
became worn very short, because I had such hard
work to squeeze through. You see I grew bigger
every day, and the hole didn’t.</p>
<p>One day our little tormentor tied a string around
Toddy’s neck, fastened it to his velocipede, and
then rode up and down the sidewalk, as fast as he
could. And there is no telling how long he would
have kept it up if a kind neighbor across the street
had not come over and taken Toddy away from
him.</p>
<p>When mistress came home that evening, they
told her about Eddie’s cruelty, and as she had
warned him already many times to let her kittens
alone, she said she would report the case to the
“Humane Agent.”</p>
<p>I never learned what the gentleman did, but from
that day Eddie did not trouble us for a long time,
and we think that next to mistress and the boy, the
Humane Agent is our best friend.</p>
<p>But alas for poor Budge and Toddy! A few
moons after I came to my new home Toddy disappeared,
and we all felt very badly about it. The
next day Budge went away, I suppose to look for
Toddy, and he never came back. Then for several
days mistress and the boy had such sad faces that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>
it made me very unhappy. They asked the milkman
and the grocer and the letter-carrier to look
out for the two kittens, but we never heard anything
more of them, and I was without any companions
for quite a while.</p>
<p>As for me I rather enjoyed being alone, because
mistress and the boy paid more attention to me
than they had ever done before. At meal-time I
was allowed to sit on a chair beside mistress, and at
night I slept at the foot of her bed.</p>
<p>But the days seemed very long, until I became
acquainted with our neighbor’s dog, Dennis, a large
handsome fellow with brown curly hair and beautiful
brown eyes. Although Dennis had more good
things at home than any one dog could eat, for he
was always burying something in his yard, yet he
came to our house daily for the little titbits that
mistress would give to him. But having had one
unpleasant experience with a dog I kept at a distance
from Dennis; till one day he proved himself
a real friend. Two saucy little curs came into my
yard and chased me up a tree, when Dennis, with
one bound, jumped at them and drove them away,
and after that he and I were the best of friends.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">III<br>
<small>MY REASONS FOR WRITING THIS STORY</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> mistress and the boy are at home, he generally
reads aloud to her and at such times I usually
sit on his lap or by his side. About the time
Budge and Toddy went away he read a story which
was written by “Black Beauty,” a horse. I thought
it was rather peculiar that a horse should write a
story. But Black Beauty told people how to take
care of horses, how to provide for their comfort and
how to sympathize with them, in doing which he
set the whole world to thinking for a time about
nothing but horses, and in that way did them a
very good turn.</p>
<p>By the way, the boy’s name is Guy. His eyes
are just like Miss Virgie’s, and he has beautiful
flaxen hair.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_028_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_028_facing.jpg" alt="Guy">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="center"><span class="smcap">Guy</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Before I knew Guy, I supposed all boys were
rude and cruel, but I feel sure now that I was mistaken.
One of Guy’s dearest friends is Teddy, who
was with the boy that threw stones at me on that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>
sad day when I was a homeless cat. Teddy came
to see Guy quite often, but he always treated me
very kindly. I really think it a pity that he should
ever have been with that cruel boy.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_030_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_030_facing.jpg" alt="My Friend Dennis">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">My Friend Dennis</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>After Guy had finished reading the story of
Black Beauty, he read one written by a dog,
“Beautiful Joe.” I saw his picture in the book, but
I did not think him half as beautiful as my friend
Dennis that visits me every day. But Joe had a
beautiful spirit, and that counts far more than a
beautiful body. Who could read of the cruel blows
and kicks and all the other insults which he suffered
so patiently at the hands and feet of old Jenkins,
without feeling in his inmost soul that henceforth
he would defend and protect all helpless and harmless
creatures? In this way Joe conferred a lasting
benefit upon his fellow-dogs, and even I, who am
only a cat, with no natural fondness for dogs, must
say that I learned many things from Joe that made
me have more respect for dogs. I also became
filled with a desire to be as good and useful a cat as
Joe was a dog, and it was during those long, lonesome
days when I was without any companions that
the thought came to me about writing this story.
May be you think a cat does not even have thoughts.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>
How dreadful! Well, I thought if dogs and horses
can write stories, why can’t I? And so I concluded
to try.</p>
<p>I had often heard mistress read stories about cats,
cat shows and cat clubs, but it was always about
Persian cats and Angoras, and I made up my mind
that my story should be about tigers and Maltese
and black cats, because they are considered to be
of so very little importance. I have known of
many a poor, sick cat just treated as a nuisance, and
compelled to stay outdoors; whereas then, if ever,
she needs a warm, comfortable place, and nourishing
food.</p>
<p>And when a cat has kittens, she is usually put
into the barn, or the basement, if tolerated in the
house at all. Now very few kittens will learn orderly
habits when raised in a place where they can
do as they please; and when such a kitten is taken
into a home it causes no end of trouble. In many
cases it is abused and made very miserable, not for
any fault of its own, but because it has not been
properly trained. This is one reason why there are
so many poor tramp cats. Another reason is, that
some people will let a cat raise five or six kittens
without paying any attention to her needs as to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>
food or shelter, and the poor things somehow live,
or rather, they exist. Then when nobody wants
them, as is always the case with kittens raised in
this way, they are given to the milkman or to some
farmer to be “strayed” out in the country, where
no other fate awaits them but slow starvation. In
a case like this, five cents’ worth of chloroform administered
to the kittens at the time of birth, leaving
only one alive for the mother cat, would have
saved them from the terrible tortures of starvation.</p>
<p>Then too some people who are very kind-hearted
themselves, have cruel servants who look upon a
pet in the household as an added burden, and who
will utterly neglect, if not positively abuse them.
Right here I am reminded of an incident told to
mistress by a young lady who called one evening.
She was doing some writing for a minister, and she
said that almost daily her feelings were wrought up
at sight of an old black cat, gaunt looking, half-starved,
and with a broken leg, hobbling around in
the yard. “To-day,” said she, “I had some milk
left over from my lunch, and I asked the cook for
the cat’s dish.”</p>
<p>“Cat’s dish! the cat ain’t got no dish, throw it
on the walk,” was the reply. “Why,” continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>
the lady, “I saw enough table scraps thrown into
the garbage can each day to make a feast for that
poor cat, and not one of the good people ever gave
her a thought.”</p>
<p>Speaking of ministers reminds me of a gentleman
that called on mistress one evening, and as I
happened to be lying on the library table, they fell
to talking about me, and about cats and dogs generally.</p>
<p>“It’s all right,” said the gentleman, “for people
that can afford it, to have pets. But in my experience
in visiting among all classes of people, somehow
wherever I find a big family of half-fed and
neglected children there are sure to be in the same
home one or more cats or dogs, and sometimes
both; and of course, the food that is given to them
ought by rights to go to the children. But the
worst of it is, these people seem to think as much
of their cats and dogs as they do of their children.”</p>
<p>“That is an unintended compliment,” said mistress,
“which proves the softening and humanizing
effect of these pets upon those with whom they associate.
And certainly, this more than makes up
for the few little extra morsels that they require for
their maintenance.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>Now I have told you some of the things I would
like to bring to the notice of ladies and children
especially. Oh, if with this story I start all the
world to think for awhile about cats—Maltese
and tigers and black cats, that are so much exposed
to suffering because within the reach of
everybody, I shall feel that I have done some real
good. And even if I do not write as good a story
as did Black Beauty, or Beautiful Joe, you will at
least know that I tried to do what I could to help
my fellow-cats. And who knows but some cats,
older and wiser than myself, may be encouraged by
my effort to do more?</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">IV<br>
<small>A PLEASANT OUTING</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the time came for mistress and Guy to
take their summer outing, they did not desert me or
leave me to the mercies of our neighbors, as has
been the fate of many a poor cat. No; they very
thoughtfully made the necessary provision to take
me with them.</p>
<p>When they were ready to start, they put me in a
nice big bag, which Guy suspended over his shoulder.
It was a bag that mistress brought from
Switzerland, and I have heard her say it is such a
one as the women there carry to market when they
go to buy provisions. It had large holes between
the stitches so I could look through, and see what
was going on.</p>
<p>First we took a long ride on a street car and Guy
held me on his lap. But never having been on a
car, I was dreadfully afraid of the noise. Guy held
me real close to his breast and talked kindly to me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>
but by the time I got over being afraid, we were at
the end of our ride.</p>
<p>When we alighted from the street car, we
boarded a big steamboat on which we rode all
day. Mistress allowed me to walk around a little,
and I saw the beautiful water and the bright sunshine,
and some birds. How birds could live on
the water greatly puzzled me.</p>
<p>There were many people on the boat, and some
children played with me and gave me cake and
popcorn. I thought they must have cats at home,
for they knew just what cats like.</p>
<p>But while the children were very polite to me,
some of the older people were just the reverse.
For instance, there was a woman who poked her
umbrella into my side, saying: “There is a cat;
what a nuisance!”</p>
<p>Mistress said to her very kindly: “It is my
kitty.”</p>
<p>Then the woman asked mistress a good many
questions about me: why she didn’t leave me at
home; how she could be bothered with a cat when
traveling; or, was it a new “fad.”</p>
<p>Mistress told her there was no one at home, and
that she thought it cruel to desert a faithful domestic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>
animal. Furthermore, she said, I had been
no trouble to her so far, and that this was not the
first time she had had a cat for a traveling companion.</p>
<p>Then the woman became more polite to me, and
said I had a beautiful coat and a pleasing face.</p>
<p>After a while a big girl came over to where I
lay. She came so quickly it frightened me, and I
got up and started to run from her, but she
grabbed me by the tail and pulled me back.</p>
<p>Of course, I cried out, not so much from pain, as
because of the insolence of such treatment.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter, Tabby?” said she.</p>
<p>I said “Me-ow” just as loud as I could.</p>
<p>Mistress told her I was not used to being pulled
around by my tail. Then the girl stroked my
back and smoothed my fur, and I was no longer
afraid. I think she did not mean to frighten me,
only she didn’t know the proper way to call a cat.</p>
<p>Mistress told her how I stayed at home alone
every day when she was gone, and never ran away,
and how I behaved so nicely on the cars. I am
sure the girl will be a better friend to cats hereafter.</p>
<p>I had never before been in such a large crowd as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>
there was on that boat, and I could not help noticing
what a difference there is in people. Some in
passing by would look at me sneeringly, and even
point their fingers; some would take no notice of
me at all; others would smile, and still others
would bend over and give me a gentle stroke.
But the children—bless their dear hearts—they all
had good words for me, and some gave me something
even better.</p>
<p>As the sun was going down we arrived at a place
where the boat stopped and everybody got off.
Guy put me into my nice bag, and the next thing I
knew we were in a large room in a great big
strange house that they called a hotel. Guy got
me a saucer of milk for my supper, and I slept all
night on mistress’ bed.</p>
<p>The next morning we started out right after
breakfast and took a long ride in a carriage. I
noticed after we had ridden a while that it was a
very long distance between houses. Finally we
stopped at a nice white cottage with green blinds,
standing in a yard that was so long I could not see
the next house. They called it a farm.</p>
<p>The weather being terribly hot, the long ride in
the carriage had made me very ill; I could hardly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>
get my breath, and I was dizzy. I lay in the
orchard under an apple tree, and mistress sat beside
me, wondering what to do. Finally she
poured some castor oil down my throat, which
tasted very unpleasant; but in a few hours I was
all right again, and after that I had a delightful
time.</p>
<p>There were two big cats on the farm; one white
and the other yellow; and as they had no name,
only “Kitty,” mistress named the white one
“Blanche” and the yellow one “Goldie.”</p>
<p>They did not like me at first; in fact they acted
just like Budge and Toddy did when I came to live
with my mistress. But the next morning mistress
took us all in her lap and petted us for a long time;
then she gave us some nice warm milk in a big
saucer, and we ate breakfast together; and after
that Blanche and Goldie were more friendly towards
me. But we did not see much of each other, for
they spent most of their time out in the field.
Their “corner” was a big market-basket on the
kitchen porch; but I did not have to share it with
them, because I always slept on my mistress’ bed.</p>
<p>This reminds me of a wicked slander on cats
that I have heard, namely, that it is not safe for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>
people to sleep in the same room with them for
fear they will suck their breath and cause them to
suffocate. The only foundation for this is that cats
love warmth. When sleeping in a cold room they
will seek out the warmest place they can find, and
if that happens to be near a person’s face, they are
apt to go there; not because they want to suck the
breath, but simply because they love the warmth
that emanates with the breath.</p>
<p>An old gentleman lived on the farm whom Guy
called grandpa, and an old lady whom he called
grandma, whose portraits I had often seen in
mistress’ room. Grandpa was abed most of the
time, and was visited every day by a man they
called “Doctor.” It was he who told mistress to
give me castor oil.</p>
<p>One day mistress took me into grandpa’s room
and said, “Father, this is Meow the Second.” Although
grandpa was too ill to say much to me,
still I knew from the kind look on his face, and
from his gentle touch, that he was a friend of cats.
“I’m very glad to see Meow, but don’t hurt Watch’s
feelings,” was all he was able to say, and pretty
soon mistress took me out.</p>
<p>Watch was a big shepherd dog that had lived on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>
the farm for many years. He wanted to be in
grandpa’s room all the time. When he was admitted
he would lie down alongside the bed, and
look straight at grandpa all the while, till he was
ordered out, and then he just went as far as the
door and lay down. There he would stay all day,
and unless his food was brought to him, he would
go hungry.</p>
<p>Watch never did me any harm, but he wasn’t as
friendly with me as Dennis. He barked at all
strangers, but never hurt anybody.</p>
<p>In front of the house was a very large maple
tree under which mistress stretched her hammock,
and there in the cool shade we spent many happy
days; but Guy spent most of his time at the neighbors
helping the boys do their chores.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">V<br>
<small>SOME EXPERIENCES ON THE FARM</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> never seen any chickens until I visited
grandpa’s farm, so one day shortly after our
arrival I went into the chicken-coop to make them
a visit.</p>
<p>A hen was sitting on a lot of eggs, and I had no
intention of disturbing her. But when she saw me
she began a terrible cackling, and flew away. Then
I went up and sat on the eggs myself; but in a few
minutes the big rooster came to the coop, followed
by nearly all the other roosters and the hens, and
such a cackling and crowing I never heard in all my
life. It seemed as if every one of the seventy fowl
in the barnyard would cry themselves hoarse. I concluded
that I was not a welcome visitor, so I left
the nest and jumped out of the window. I thought
it best not to go through the door with all those
cacklers in wait for me.</p>
<p>The stable was empty, because Elsa the cow, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>
Kate the horse, were out in the pasture. Elsa had
large brown eyes and a beautiful brown coat with a
white star on her forehead, and she was very gentle.
Guy generally rubbed her back and sides and shooed
off the flies while grandma milked her, and we cats
were always on hand at milking time. Just as soon
as grandma had finished she would always pour
some milk into our saucer, and it tasted just about
like our city milkman’s cream. (Once when Guy
came home from school he filled my saucer out of
the cream pail, and that’s how I know what city
cream tastes like.)</p>
<p>Elsa had once been the queen of a large milk-herd,
and she seemed very proud of her old Swiss
cow-bell which always hung at her neck, suspended
from a leather strap. Whenever it was time to
bring her in from the pasture, grandma or Guy
would take a little bucket containing salt, and stand
up on the fence and show it to Elsa. Then as
soon as she saw it she would come right along;
and, of course, she was always given some salt as
soon as she reached the barnyard.</p>
<p>It was Kate that brought us out from the steamboat
landing on that dreadfully hot summer day.
There was no real hard work for her to do on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>
farm. But she had served grandpa so well during
the years of her strength, that, although no longer
needed, still she was allowed to remain and enjoy
the rest and quiet. All the neighbors seemed to
know and respect her, and whenever any of them
passed by, she would go up to the fence and
whinney, in response to their greeting. Elsa was
her constant companion in the pasture, and their
lot was indeed a happy one.</p>
<p>Another animal on the farm was Billy, the pig,
though I am sorry to say his place was so uninviting
I did not care to visit him very often. But
really, poor Billy was not to blame; his “pen” was
so small, and there was no way for him to get out
when he wanted to; how could he keep it clean
and tidy?</p>
<p>Why he was singled out to be treated as a prisoner,
when all the other animals on the farm were
free to roam at will, was more than I could understand,
unless it was because grandpa was too ill to
attend to him. As I used to see Billy stare through
the cracks in the walls of the narrow gloomy prison
that shut him away from the great, beautiful world,
and as I listened to his ceaseless grunting, I could
not help but pity him. Although I did not understand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>
his language, I felt sure that he must be complaining
of his unhappy lot.</p>
<p>“How I wish that somebody would write a book
for Billy,” said mistress to Guy one day, as they
were passing his place, “so that people would be
made to think how unjustly he is being treated.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Guy, “it’s just as easy to have pigs
in clover as in a pen. Have I never told you about
the excellent arrangement Uncle Ellison has on his
farm?”</p>
<p>“No, you did not; what is it?” said mistress,
eagerly.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Guy, “his pig yard is quite a good
sized enclosure, extending at the rear into a little
grove where the pigs can lie in the cool shade when
it is hot. Adjoining this is a similar enclosure,
and every year the pigs are changed from one field
to the other, and the one last used by the pigs is
plowed up and sown to clover. In this way they
have a clean, wholesome and comfortable place all
the time.”</p>
<p>“This explains why Uncle Ellison gets a higher
price for his hogs than any farmer around there,”
said mistress. “If grandpa were well, I would tell
him about it; but perhaps you could make Billy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>
just a little happier by spading up the ground
inside of his pen.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Guy; “and perhaps the neighbor’s
boys will help me.”</p>
<p>So the next day the boys locked Billy into the
corn-crib while they turned the ground in his pen
with spades and freshened it; the trough was
scalded and scrubbed, and left in the sun to dry.
When Billy was led back to his pen, he grunted his
thankfulness to his friends the best he knew how.
As for me, I concluded to put Uncle Ellison’s plan
into my story; for who knows but some of the boys
who read it may be farmers some day, and will
want to try it?</p>
<p>While we were at grandpa’s one of his neighbors’
hogs was taken sick, and the man brought six little
white pigs up to grandpa’s because he wished
to separate them from their mother, for fear they
too might catch the disease. I never saw anything
prettier than those little pigs, and they were just as
clean as so many kittens. The man put them into
an old pen not far from Billy’s, and there they
squealed and grunted to their hearts’ content, and
stuck their noses through every little crack in the
pen. I noticed that some of the boards were loose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>
so that they could wiggle them up and down, and
each one tried to make them wiggle a little more
than the others had done before him. One day at
dinner-time, when I was in my usual place on the
window-sill, suddenly I saw a white streak shooting
through the orchard and out into the road, and just
then Guy jumped up and said: “There go the
pigs.”</p>
<p>They had succeeded in loosening one of the
boards and making their escape, and the last I saw
of them they were running down the road to their
mother as fast as they could, leaving a big cloud of
dust behind them.</p>
<p>This set me to thinking on pigs in general, and
I concluded that they are by nature intelligent and
clean, and like the rest of us, all they want is a
chance.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">VI<br>
<small>HOME AGAIN</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> morning very early mistress packed up her
things and Guy’s, and Kate was hitched up to the
carriage and brought up to the side of the house.
Everybody was very sad; and I couldn’t understand
what it all meant, till I saw mistress and Guy
bid grandpa good-bye. Grandpa was still lying in
bed, with Watch by his side, and they were all
crying.</p>
<p>Blanche and Goldie were just ready to go out
into the field, but they stopped to bid me good-bye,
and said they were sorry to have me go now
that they had got acquainted with me; and they
hoped that another summer I would visit them
again.</p>
<p>I was put into my bag as usual; and Guy took
me with him into the carriage. Kate took us to
the boat landing; and in a short time we were
afloat on the beautiful blue water.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>The boat was crowded with people, and it was
very warm. I was tired and wanted to sleep, so
mistress took me into her stateroom, where I lay
on the bed and had a nice rest. Soon after I
awoke we reached a place where we alighted and
took dinner at a large hotel. Guy carried the bag
in which I was, suspended over his shoulder by a
leather strap, and when he was seated at the table
he slipped the bag over my head and fed me on his
lap. You must remember that at that time I was
still a kitten, about half grown.</p>
<p>After dinner we sat on the lawn in front of the
hotel, and I was allowed to run around at will till it
was time to return to the boat. I was listening to
the music of the band, when I espied on the piazza
a poodle dog. As soon as he saw me, he came
down the steps and I, thinking to exchange greetings
with him, walked over to meet him. I don’t
know whether he objected to the curve in my
back, or the jug handle shape of my tail, but evidently
Mr. Poodle was not in the habit of meeting
lady cats. Instead of responding to my greeting
in a gentlemanly manner, he bent low on his forelegs
and barked at me.</p>
<p>At this I showed him the color of my teeth, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>
the length of my claws, and he immediately retreated,
his tail drawn tightly between his legs.</p>
<p>“What next?” you say. Well, I chased some
grasshoppers, and caught a fly or two, and by that
time we had to return to the boat to resume our
journey.</p>
<p>At the hotel mistress met some friends, who
were going on the same boat, and welcome ones
they were, for they were the first people we had
met on our entire journey that did not “exclaim”
at seeing a cat in the party.</p>
<p>The one I liked best of all was Miss Wallace, a
very lovely young lady, who held me on her lap
nearly all the time. I was very thankful to her, for
it was better than being out where I would get my
tail pulled and umbrellas poked into my side. Miss
Wallace told us about her kitty at home, Nellie, of
purest white; and she said she was just homesick
to see her, because she had been away over a
week.</p>
<p>“I suppose, of course, you left her in somebody’s
care,” said mistress.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Wallace, “I would not
think of such a thing as leaving her uncared for.”</p>
<p>I was not at all surprised to hear Miss Wallace’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>
answer, for I knew the moment I saw her gentle
face and soft brown eyes, that she had a tender and
sympathetic heart. I think I must have taken a
nap on her lap, for it seemed in a very little while
the boat stopped at the landing whence I had
started on my first trip a few weeks before.</p>
<p>The street cars took us quickly to the little
brown house on Poplar Avenue, which is dearer to
me than any farm, hotel, or floating palace that I
have ever seen. Dennis received us with a joyous
bark, and with that merry wag of his tail which
speaks such volumes of happiness. My cushion,
my pad, and the dear sunny porch were more precious
to me than ever before. Only one thing
worried me! I had grown too big for the hole
through which I used to crawl in under the porch,
and wondered where I would go for safety in case
of danger. But I soon found that Dennis was all
the “safety” I needed, for he stayed with me
nearly all the time; and whenever any bad boys or
dogs came into our yard he promptly chased them
out with that powerful bark of his. And I found
him to be a very useful as well as agreeable companion.</p>
<p>There is a beautiful song which I have often<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>
heard, that there is no place like home, but I never
really understood the meaning of those words until
I had been away from my home and my friend.</p>
<p>So you see I was doubly thankful, first because
mistress took me with her on her vacation, and
second because I had such a happy home-coming.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">VII<br>
<small>NEW COMPANIONS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> morning soon after we returned from the
farm Guy brought into the house, dripping wet, a
little Maltese kitty, which he said he found crying
in a vacant lot on his way to school. My heart
went out to the poor little thing, shivering with
cold and frightened, and coming from no one knew
where.</p>
<p>Mistress rubbed the kitty’s coat dry with a towel,
and smoothed it all out with a coarse comb. Then
she fixed her a nice warm bed in a little basket, and
in a short time she dozed off into a nap. As I sat
looking at the little stranger I was reminded of the
time when I was taken into this dear home in just
about as sorry a plight, and I made up my mind to
give her a better welcome than I had received from
Budge and Toddy.</p>
<p>Her nap over, the little kitty looked as plump
and bright as anything, and mistress named her
“Beauty.” She was a talkative little creature, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>
before the day was over had told me her whole history.
Said she, “My home is in a grocery store,
where I have been living with my mother and three
other kittens in a barrel. This morning our master
gave me to a boy to take home to his sister. But
he squeezed me so hard, I scratched him, and then
he threw me out on the wet grass and walked
away.”</p>
<p>“How cruel,” said I, “but don’t think that all
boys are like him, for I know some that are just as
kind as anybody.”</p>
<p>“Then I tried to go back and find my mother,”
said Beauty, “and I went up to the door of a place
that looked like my home, but as I stood there crying,
a man came out and picked me up very
harshly, and threw me out onto the sidewalk. It
seemed as if all the world were against me, and I
tried to crawl away to a place where no one would
find me, when a boy came along who picked me up
very tenderly, and it was he who brought me here.”</p>
<p>I told Beauty of my own experience as a homeless
cat and bade her be thankful that she had
fallen into such good hands.</p>
<p>During the evening we played together by the
beautiful moonlight, but all at once I missed her,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>
and when mistress called us in for the night I was
the only one to respond. I have no doubt that
Beauty went to look for her mother.</p>
<p>After Budge and Toddy left, mistress tied a
pretty colored ribbon around my neck, with the
street and number, 127 Poplar Avenue, plainly
written on it in black ink. She had also tied one
around Beauty’s neck, and for this reason she expected
that Beauty would be returned. But we
looked for her in vain.</p>
<p>One evening when mistress and Guy were talking
about Beauty, mistress said: “I presume she
has found a home; I only hope it is a good one.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think it is,” said Guy. “Anybody that
would steal a cat would not treat her well after he
got her.” And I think he was right, for it was just
as bad as stealing, to keep a cat that had the street
and number written on his necktie. How foolish
Beauty was to leave such a good home.</p>
<p>Not many days after Beauty’s departure, a little
girl brought us a light colored tiger kitty, which
she said she had found in front of a vacant house,
cold and hungry, and she brought her to us because
she thought it was our little Beauty.</p>
<p>Mistress petted the little thing, and praised the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>
little girl for being so kind and thoughtful in trying
to find its home. She asked the little girl to
take it to her own home and keep it, but she said
her mother would not permit her to have a kitty
because they lived in a flat, or she would be only
too glad to keep it. So then, rather than have the
little thing turned out without a home, mistress allowed
it to remain, and she named it “Beauty”
after the last one.</p>
<p>On the following morning one of our neighbors,
having seen two strange kittens in the yard
within so short a time, said to mistress: “What
are you keeping over there, a cat refuge, or a hospital?”</p>
<p>“Why both,” said mistress. “I wouldn’t turn a
stray cat away, much less a sick one.”</p>
<p>The lady said no more.</p>
<p>The little stranger seemed so thankful for a nice
warm basket (I shared mine with her) she hardly
left it the entire day, except to go to her meals.
She would lap a whole saucer full of milk, and ask
for more, and mistress fed her till she had all she
wanted. I tried to find out where she had lived,
but she seemed to feel so grieved at the way she
had been treated, that it was fully three days before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>
she finally consented to talk about it. Then she
told me that the folks all left the house and all the
things were loaded on a wagon and taken away.
Said she, “I waited day after day on the doorsteps
hoping they would come back. All I had to eat
was what I could find in the ash pile, and nights I
crawled into an old stovepipe.”</p>
<p>This was so much worse than anything I had
ever experienced, or even heard of, I hadn’t a word
to say in reply.</p>
<p>But evidently the cold and hunger that she had
suffered had had their effect on little Beauty. Although
she had the best of care, still a few days
later she was taken so very ill one night that it
caused her to groan most pitifully; and in the morning
when Guy came down, her lifeless form lay on
the floor, cold and stiff.</p>
<p>Mistress very tenderly wrapped the little dead
body in some soft white tissue paper, and put it in
a box, and Guy buried it in the rear of the yard,
marking the spot with a stake on which he printed:</p>
<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Sacred to the Memory of Beauty.</span>”</p>
<p>Then mistress planted some mignonette and pansies
on the spot, and Guy fenced it in with pieces<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>
of arched wire, so that it made a nice little flower-bed.</p>
<p>After it was all over I heard mistress say to Guy:
“Aren’t you glad we have been kind to this little
creature during the few days of her life that she was
with us?”</p>
<p>“I was just thinking how sorry I would be if I
hadn’t been kind to her,” said Guy. “Yesterday
when she whined so I was tempted to put her out,
but I am glad now I didn’t; I guess she was sick
then.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said mistress, “when animals act ill-natured
or fretful, it is generally because they are not
well; and instead of being impatient with them, we
ought to be all the more tender, and see whether
we cannot find out the cause of their trouble, and
relieve them.”</p>
<p>For several days after Beauty’s death I was again
without a companion, but I wasn’t so lonesome as
at first when Budge and Toddy went way, because
I had Dennis; and besides, it was still lovely summer
weather. I used to sit on the window-ledge
and watch for the school-children to come by; and
when I saw them, it made me very happy, for I
knew then that I would soon see my friend Guy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>
As soon as he came into the yard I’d jump down
and go into the house with him, and generally he
would give me some of his bread and milk. Then he
would practice a while on his violin, and I dearly
loved to listen to the music. Sometimes he would
mow the lawn and water it. He always had everything
very nice for mistress when she came home.
If only he could have stayed at home all day, Dennis
and I couldn’t have wished for a dearer companion.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">VIII<br>
<small>BUDGE AND TODDY THE SECOND</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">About</span> a month after the death of Beauty, a little
girl came one day with four tiny kittens in a basket,
some tigers and some Maltese, and I heard her beg
mistress to adopt one of them.</p>
<p>Mistress said at first that she did not care for any
more cats. But the little girl was so persistent, and
the kittens in the basket looked so bright and
pretty, mistress was persuaded to take a closer look
at them; and as I saw her take them up and fondle
them, I felt pretty sure what the result would be.</p>
<p>“I will take two,” said she, “for if I should take
but one away from her companions and from her
mother, it would get lonely and homesick; besides,
a little girl who tries to get good homes for helpless
kitties ought to be encouraged.”</p>
<p>This made the little girl very happy, for she knew
her kittens would have a good home with mistress;
and she went away with only two remaining in the
basket.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>My new companions were named Budge and
Toddy, after the two that had left us. I became
friendly with them at once, for I had learned by this
time that mistress was a good judge of cats, and
that I was perfectly safe in associating freely with
those of her choice. The only unpleasant thing
about Budge and Toddy was, they had fleas, and, of
course, I was visited by some of them; but after a
few baths with Spratt’s soap we got quite rid of
them. I will tell you how it was done, for mistress
seemed to know just the right way.</p>
<p>First she made a nice warm suds, and saturated
our necks thoroughly with it. She called this the
“dead line” because the fleas could not crawl into
our eyes, but had to stay back and be drowned.
Then she rubbed the suds into the skin all over our
bodies, and used a coarse comb so as to have it penetrate
the fur clear to the skin, carefully shielding
our eyes. Guy always assisted by holding us while
she did the washing. He would hold the front legs
in one hand and the hind legs in the other, which
gave mistress complete control of the body as it lay
in the suds, and Guy would turn it as she directed.</p>
<p>After we were thoroughly washed, mistress rinsed
us off in plenty of clean warm water, wiped us dry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>
with a Turkish towel, and gave us a good combing.
Then we lay on our cushions in a sunny spot of the
room, and in winter time she put the cushion near
the register. When dry, she set us on a big newspaper,
and gave us a thorough brushing, and it was
surprising how the dead fleas would drop out. Then
she folded the paper and burned it. After three
such baths the troublesome little things completely
disappeared.</p>
<p>Budge is a Maltese, very short and fat, with
shaggy coat, short bushy tail, and a white “breastpin.”</p>
<p>Toddy is long and slender, with a smooth, soft
coat and a long tail. He is a tiger cat like myself.
He is livelier and more mischievous than
Budge, and in a tussle generally comes out ahead.</p>
<p>Many times I have seen Budge quietly sitting on
his cushion, perhaps watching a fly, or purring contentedly
to himself, not suspecting any harm or
danger, when Toddy, stealthily aiming from a distance,
would jump upon him so suddenly as to
almost take his breath away. Then they would
roll over the floor, first one on top, then the other,
biting, kicking and mauling each other, until the
peaceful room was turned into a veritable arena.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>
One round was scarcely finished before another was
started. By turns they would hump their backs,
turn down their ears, bristle their tails, or sway
them swiftly to and fro, all the while eyeing each
other with most defiant expression. At last the
pent-up tempest breaks forth, but the battle proves
too fierce for Budge and after several more rounds
he seeks refuge on a chair only to find himself
further pursued. The chair has a cane seat, and
Toddy makes a fresh attack from beneath.</p>
<p>At last when it is all over, Toddy meekly kisses
his victim, and says: “Never mind, Budge, you
know I was only in fun.”</p>
<p>One morning when we were up in mistress’
room, she made a deep dent in our cushion and put
Budge into it. He was then still very small, and
it looked as if he was sitting in a little cave with
only his head outside.</p>
<p>Pretty soon Toddy came along, and when he
saw Budge in so snug a place, he walked all around
him viewing him from every side. It was a rather
cool morning, and he wanted to get in there too.
But seeing there was not enough room by the side
of Budge he got in front of him and began caressing
him and washing his face and neck. Budge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>
liked this so well that he moved closer and closer
to Toddy, and in so doing got partly out of his
cave.</p>
<p>This was just what Toddy wanted. When by
means of his cunning scheme, he had tempted
Budge out far enough, he put his paw behind him,
and with a masterly shove, ousted him from the
coveted place, and backed into it himself.</p>
<p>I have always thought that Budge laid this trick
of Toddy’s up in a corner of his little heart; for,
although he seemed to take it good-naturedly at
the time, yet he lay in wait when Toddy came
down the stairs. But it seemed as though Toddy
was expecting something of the kind, for the moment
Budge advanced toward him, Toddy jumped
up in the air, and Budge shot through under him
as though darting through an arch, so swiftly that
he ran pell-mell into a basin of water which was
being used to clean the floor.</p>
<p>“The charge of the Light Brigade,” said Guy,
coming down the stairs behind Toddy.</p>
<p>“No, it’s the Battle of Waterloo,” replied mistress.</p>
<p>With such playful companions as these, you can
imagine what delightful times I have had.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">IX<br>
<small>A HAPPY HOME</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> morning after breakfast mistress reads in
a book called the “Bible,” and when she closes it,
they both kneel down in the bay window while she
talks to the chair. Sometimes when the sun shines
so nice and warm upon her back, I just jump up
there and have a nice purr, which always makes
Guy laugh.</p>
<p>Some of the stories they have read in the Bible
were about men and women and children and goats
and sheep and cattle. I have listened breathlessly
many times for something about cats, but so far
not one has been mentioned. But perhaps those
things all happened before there were any cats.
One time the story was about an old man who
died leaving six daughters<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and they were afraid
that because they had no big brothers they would
not get their share. So they went to Moses, their
captain, and asked him about it, and he said that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>
they should have their share just the same as if
they were sons, instead of daughters. After the
story was finished mistress asked Guy, as she
usually did, what that meant, and what he had
learned from it. He studied for quite a while before
he answered her, then he said, “Well, I guess
that means women’s rights.”</p>
<p>Another time they were reading about a very
great king who sat on a throne, and a queen from
another country who had heard about his wonderful
wisdom came to ask him a very hard question
to see whether what she had heard was true.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
<p>“What was the question she asked?” said Guy,
after the reading was finished.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said mistress; “the Bible does
not tell us what it was.”</p>
<p>“I think I know what it was,” said he. “She
asked him ‘who made God?’”</p>
<p>After they have spent a half hour or so in this
way, they lock up the house and go away; but they
always leave a nice lunch for us, and a dish of fresh
water.</p>
<p>I know of many poor cats that never get a drop
of water at home. They have to go and hunt for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>
it in ditches and puddles, and then are blamed for
not keeping a clean, soft, fluffy coat. Anybody
ought to know that we can’t be expending moisture
through our tongue, washing and scrubbing our
coats, unless we can drink water whenever we want
it. Some people think it answers the purpose just
as well if they give us milk, and dear knows it’s
true enough of the milk that some cats get. But
we would prefer to have our milk straight, and our
water likewise.</p>
<p>Our principal food is fresh boiled meat, mashed
potatoes, and milk, and in summer-time we also get
sweet peas, asparagus, beans and corn. Once a
week we get salmon mixed with bread crumbs or
mashed potatoes.</p>
<p>Once I came very near getting into trouble
through my fondness for canned beans. I saw a
can on the ash pile, and in trying to get what beans
were left in the bottom I got my nose in too far.
Imagine my shame, when I could not get it out
again, and was obliged to go about with a tin can
for a muzzle till Guy came home and took it off.</p>
<p>In pleasant weather our food is left on the kitchen
porch, which, with our pads and cushions looks like
a little summer parlor. There we stay in the bright<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>
sunshine, or we play in the grass, climb the fences,
play hide-and-seek and roll in our catnip bed.</p>
<p>In cold weather a window is left open into the
basement so we can go down to the nice warm
furnace room, where we have a great big clothes-basket
lined with a clean soft pad. Mistress knows
that cats, like other creatures, want a bed long
enough so they can stretch themselves out full
length when they feel like it.</p>
<p>Of course, we sometimes sleep in other places
beside our basket. For awhile an old cap of Guy’s
lay on the basement floor, and I used to cuddle up
in it to take my nap, because it just fitted me. One
day I was just nicely settled in it when Toddy came
and lay on top of me, and no sooner had we got
ourselves nicely fixed for a nap than Budge came
crawling over both of us, trying to get on top of
Toddy. But Toddy’s body was too round and his
coat too smooth and slippery for Budge to get a
good hold, and after sliding off several times he
finally went and took his nap in an old sprinkling
can.</p>
<p>After supper we have the greatest frolic of the
day in the library. In his kittenhood Toddy was a
great athlete, and whenever a certain chair with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>
very high back happened to be near enough, he
would climb to the top of it and mount the high
bookcase, from which he would look down at the
rest of us with a very victorious air.</p>
<p>One evening Budge watched him from mistress’
lap, his little breast swelling with ambition to do
likewise. The moment Toddy alighted, Budge
mounted the high-back chair, and craned his neck
toward the desired spot. But he evidently thought
it too great a risk; for he gave mistress a very
pleading look which had the desired effect; she
moved the chair closer, and Budge scrambled up its
back, whence, with a bold leap, he easily spanned
the space to the bookcase.</p>
<p>On the top shelf are the pictures of some of our
friends. Miss Willard received his most respectful
attention, I suppose because she was the mistress
of the wonderful “Tootsie” we have all heard
about. Tender, lingering glances were also bestowed
upon our little friends Don and Winifred.
But the beautiful and charming Mrs. Cleveland received
his fondest admiration. So proudly did he
sway his bushy tail when standing in her presence
that several persons of less distinction were sent
reeling to the floor. Then, having been associated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>
for a little while in his life with great people he
sought his humble lodging behind the cook-stove
and took a nap.</p>
<p>One of my favorite places used to be on top of
the wash-stand in the bathroom. One day after
Guy had finished washing he left the water running
just a little tiny stream into the wash-bowl. I
thought it was a string, and in trying to catch it I
fell, and in an instant I was flat on my back in the
bottom of the bowl. I struggled to get on my feet
again, but it was of no use; the side of the bowl
was so smooth, there was nothing that I could get
hold of to pull myself up on, and Guy just stood
there laughing, and calling everybody in the house
to come and see the plight I was in. At last when
he had had all the fun he wanted at my expense, he
pulled me out, and I have steered clear of wash-bowls
ever since.</p>
<p>One of our dearest sports during those mirthful
days was playing hide-and-seek behind the
portières, and chasing each other from one room
into the other. But the race was usually of short
duration, for first thing we knew we were all in a
heap in the middle of the floor, and we were generally
in the midst of our frolic when the horrid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>
bedtime came and we had to go to our basket.
Sometimes we hid behind the bookcases so that
Guy couldn’t get us. But I know this wasn’t nice,
and I feel ashamed even now for ever having done
it.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">X<br>
<small>OUR HAPPIEST DAYS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">On</span> Saturdays mistress comes home earlier than
usual. Then we get our coats brushed, and wiped
off with a damp cloth, and we put on the finishing
touches with that dexterous little scrubbing brush
which every cat carries between his jaws. Then
mistress changes the covers of our cushions and
gives us clean pads.</p>
<p>I always purr when mistress brushes me, to let
her know that I like it; and Budge likes it so well,
he keeps turning himself so the brush will strike
him at every point. I believe the brushing and the
good food we get make us have such soft and
glossy coats, and such fine bushy tails.</p>
<p>One day after Budge had been thoroughly
groomed he concluded that he would go on an exploring
tour, and, being so nice and clean, he was
permitted to go wherever he pleased.</p>
<p>First he went on mistress’ desk, and pretended
to read a letter from grandpa; then he played a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>
tune on the piano. But nothing seemed to satisfy
him till he mounted the book shelves, his favorite
resting-place, and finding a nice shiny piece of
paper there he proceeded to lie upon it and purr
himself to sleep. But something was evidently
wrong about that shiny paper. He arose to go
elsewhere but the paper went with him. You see,
it was a sheet of fly-paper, and the fluttering noise
it made so frightened poor Budge that he ran from
one room to another in his frantic efforts to get
rid of it.</p>
<p>As quickly as mistress was able to get hold of the
poor creature, she pulled the paper off, but with it
came also a portion of Budge’s coat. This was
such a brand new experience for Budge, he concluded
to go to a quiet place to think it over; and
finding an old grape basket in the yard he crawled
in and fell asleep.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe37_0625" id="i_072_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_072_facing.jpg" alt="He Crawled in and Fell Asleep">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">“<span class="smcap">He Crawled in and Fell Asleep</span>”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Speaking of Budge’s favorite resting-place on the
book shelf reminds me of a story I have heard
mistress tell about “Röteli” a red tiger cat away
over in Switzerland that was fond of taking his
naps in the oven. One day the oven door was
shut without the cat being noticed, and a fire made
in the stove, for the housekeeper wanted to cook<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>
dinner. She heard some dreadful, agonizing cries,
but as she could not see the cat around anywhere,
and being busy with her work, she paid no further
attention. The roast was soon prepared, and as
the housekeeper opened the oven door to put it in,
behold there was poor Röteli lying almost lifeless
with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Immediately
the housekeeper knew just what to do:
she sprinkled Röteli with cold water and dropped
water on his tongue till he revived, and with the
good care he received, regained his health and
lived many years more. I hope that all housekeepers
who have cats will take warning, and always
look into the oven before they close it.</p>
<p>Sunday I like best of all, because then mistress
and Guy are at home all day, except a little while
in the morning. The first thing on Sunday morning
each of us gets a fresh ribbon tied around his
neck and, of course, then we make ourselves very
clean. Mistress ties the ribbon very carefully, so
that it does not pull our hair, and she cuts the
loops. The reason for this is, as I heard her tell
Guy, that once a cat was jumping across a fence,
when a loop of her ribbon was caught in one of
the pickets; and the poor cat hung there and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>
miserably strangled to death, before any one came
to her rescue.</p>
<p>On pleasant Sunday afternoons Guy brings the
porch rug and cushions out in the yard, and then
we have what we look forward to during the whole
week, a long visit from our mistress.</p>
<p>Sometimes mistress takes us for a walk, and I
never shall forget one pleasant moonlight evening
when we went out with mistress and another lady.
It was on a street that had no houses on it, only
tall grass and catnip, and we were playing a game
of hide-and-go-seek, when suddenly mistress called
us to her and picked up Toddy and me. She tried
to get Budge, too, but he was a little stubborn; instead
of coming to her, he ran to the middle of the
street, where a gentleman was riding, accompanied
by a big dog. In an instant the air was full of
howls, hisses, growls and fur, and Budge and the
dog were all mixed up in a cloud of dust. I
wanted to go too, but mistress held me so tightly I
could not get away.</p>
<p>The gentleman alighted from his wheel and
called “Hector,” but the poor dog could not get
away just then. When he finally became disentangled
he drew his tail very tightly between his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>
legs and ran away as fast as he could, still howling
piteously.</p>
<p>Mistress was evidently pleased with Budge for his
courage in so fearlessly attacking a dog much bigger
than himself, but she was also sorry for the poor
vanquished dog, and said so to his master. But the
gentleman said that the dog merely retired because
he was too noble to attack an animal smaller than
himself, and not at all because he considered himself
vanquished.</p>
<p>But however that may be, I’m afraid it wasn’t
very nice for Budge to engage in such a skirmish
on a Sunday.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XI<br>
<small>BETSY WHITEFOOT</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> time after Beauty’s death, one day an
old gray cat with white toes came on our back
porch, and helped herself to a drink of water.
She had a distressed and hungry look, and I am
sure she had not had a bath or a brushing in a long
time, for her coat was very rough and soiled.</p>
<p>Budge and Toddy were afraid of her, and ran
back of the ash bin; but I stayed to see what mistress
would do.</p>
<p>I noticed that in spots the hair on the cat’s body
was entirely gone; the flesh was covered with
bleeding sores, and her tail had scarcely any hair
on it.</p>
<p>Guy called us cats together and sent us into the
kitchen, but we could look through the screen door
and see what was going on. He gave the poor
creature a big saucer of fresh warm milk, which she
lapped up very greedily, asking for more till she
had finished three saucers full.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>When mistress came home she looked at the
cat, but did not touch her. She gave Guy some
money and a bottle and sent him to the drug store
for some medicine.</p>
<p>The poor cat was so tired she did not even wash
after eating, but lay right down on the old door-mat.
I think she had walked a long while before
she found a place where she was allowed to rest.
Before Guy returned from the store she was fast
asleep.</p>
<p>Mistress poured some of the medicine on a small
cotton pad, and placed it by the cat’s nose. Then
she quickly covered her up with a tub, and Guy
sat on top of it.</p>
<p>The cat whined and struggled for a few seconds,
then gradually her breathing became heavier, but
in less than a minute she was perfectly quiet. She
had gone to her long and peaceful sleep, and I
have no doubt that if she ever sees mistress in that
beautiful place they tell about, where there are no
homeless and hungry creatures, she will thank her
for the kind act which ended her wretched existence.</p>
<p>The tub was not removed till the following
morning, when Guy improvised a little casket for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>
the body and buried it by the side of Beauty,
marking the spot with a stake on which he wrote:</p>
<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Sacred to the Memory of the Unknown Dead</span>,”</p>
<p>and mistress planted some heliotrope upon it.</p>
<p>Meanwhile one of our neighbors was sitting on
her kitchen porch in full view of the whole proceeding,
and I expected every minute that she
would say something sarcastic about a “cat funeral”
or a “cat hospital,” as she had done before.
She was busily plying the needle on her beautiful
fancy work. As soon as mistress had finished
planting the flowers, the lady came to the fence and
said:</p>
<p>“I should think you would have your cats wear
black ribbons when they are attending a funeral;”
and without waiting for a reply, she held up her
fancy work and asked mistress how she liked it. It
was a doily stamped with a group of kittens playing
ring-around the rosies, and several of the figures
had already been worked in beautiful colored
silk.</p>
<p>“It must be pleasant, no doubt,” said mistress,
“to work beautiful figures of happy creatures upon
canvas; but I prefer to give joy and happiness to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>
the living. And as for the emblem you speak of,
to my mind flowers symbolize the transition of life
far more fitly than do the time-worn weeds of
mourning.”</p>
<p>The lady made no answer to this at all, and
mistress went into the house, leaving her alone
with her fancy work.</p>
<p>Before we were allowed to go on the porch
again, it was thoroughly scrubbed with boiling
water; the tub was scalded, and the old mat was
burned.</p>
<p>On the following day a neighboring cat, whom I
have since learned to know as Jack, came into our
yard, and I noticed that he persistently sniffed
around the little fresh mound.</p>
<p>“What is in there?” said he, after he had visited
it for the third time.</p>
<p>I told him about the sad occurrence of the day
before.</p>
<p>“Was it a gray cat with white toes?”</p>
<p>I told him it was.</p>
<p>“Poor Betsy Whitefoot,” said Jack, in tones of
real anguish. “I have shared my meals with her
ever since the Mortons went to their summer house
in the country. A better mouser never lived than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>
Betsy, and how they could so cruelly desert her is
more than I can understand.”</p>
<p>I could plainly see that Jack was filled with
wrath and bitterness toward the people who had
caused his friend so much sorrow, and I suggested
to him that we go up in one of the poplar trees
where we could talk over the matter quietly, and
without attracting attention.</p>
<p>Jack readily assented, and when we had found a
nice comfortable place he went on telling me more
about the Mortons.</p>
<p>“Last winter,” said he, “during that dreadfully
cold spell some kittens came to Betsy, and they
made her stay in the cold shed without even a box
or basket, and all that she could find to lay the
kittens on was some straw in a corner of the floor.
Of course the poor little things all got dreadfully
sore eyes; two became completely blind; and one
by one they drooped and died, till even Betsy herself
told me she was thankful they were out of their
misery, and that she hoped she would never have
any more. And by the way, there goes Will
Morton now,” said Jack, pointing down to the sidewalk.
“Take a good look at him, and always
avoid him if he comes your way.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>It was unnecessary for Jack to administer the
caution, for the lad was no stranger to me; indeed
he was the very boy who pelted me with stones on
that hapless day when I strayed away from my
mother. I never forgot him, for from time to time
I would see him pass our house, usually puffing
away at a cigarette, and accompanied by rough
looking hard-faced boys.</p>
<p>Jack could not restrain himself from telling all
that was in his heart about the dreadful Mortons.
Said he: “Last winter Will went on a journey
with his uncle, and he promised faithfully to write
to his mother twice a week. But during four
weeks he never wrote her even a postal card. And
many a Sunday when his mother thinks he is in
Sunday-school, I have seen him out in the alley
with his companions, smoking and listening to rude
stories. It all goes to show that he has as little
respect for her feelings as she has for those of her
cat.”</p>
<p>I was strongly tempted to tell Jack my own experience
with Will Morton, but I felt that he had
enough of heaviness on his mind, and I tried my
best to think of something pleasant. I told him
how kindly mistress had received Betsy, and how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>
gently she put her to sleep, and it seemed to lessen
somewhat the grief which he felt for his departed
friend.</p>
<p>“I am thankful,” said he, “that there are some
people in this world who realize that even a poor
sick cat has some rights, and I hope that the day is
not far off when every town and city will have a
place where dumb animals that are deserted or lost
or sick, can be taken in for protection and care.”</p>
<p>I told him that I hoped so too, for I knew that
only a short time ago, mistress had had an experience
which made us all feel the need of such a
place. I heard her tell Guy of a poor sick and
homeless pug dog she saw on the street, and how
she stopped to put a court-plaster over a raw spot
on his ear. Of course, the dog felt that she was
his friend, and he followed her to her office. But
she had no place to keep him, so she sent word to
the Dog Hospital about it. She might have called
the Humane Agent to come and shoot the dog,
but she thought he was a nice animal and worth
saving.</p>
<p>Well, the hospital man came and examined the
dog, said he was old and sick, not worth trying to
save, and that the only thing he could do for him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>
was to chloroform him and take him to the glue
factory. Mistress told him to do that; but she had
to pay him two dollars before he would do another
thing for the dog. A hospital of that kind is all
right for an animal whose master is able to pay;
it does not as a rule help poor homeless creatures.
My idea of a hospital is one where any animal, no
matter how poor or sick or unsightly, is welcomed,
and either nursed back to health or put out of its
misery. I have heard that in some large cities
kind-hearted people have founded such asylums.
But we must hope and pray that good people may
be found in every town and city, willing to devote
a portion of their means to the relief of suffering
animals.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XII<br>
<small>SUNSHINE AND SHADOW</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> pleasant Saturday afternoon I was awakened
from my nap by a sound as of rustling foliage, and
the room seemed to be suddenly filled with the odor
of fresh violets. I opened my eyes and saw a very
stately-looking lady, dressed in a beautiful silk gown
and a hat that was covered with gaily colored birds,
all having their wings spread as if about to fly away.
She was seated in the high-back chair, and I quickly
climbed up on it from the rear, and was just ready
to spring upon the birds, when she gave a dreadful
scream and ran out onto the porch.</p>
<p>At this, mistress came rushing down-stairs, and
the lady told her with frantic gestures and loud exclamations
what a dreadfully rude thing I had done
to her. Mistress led her back into the parlor, and
got her quieted as well as she could, but presently
Budge and Toddy, who had been napping in the
bay-window seat, also came into the parlor.</p>
<p>“Are all of these cats yours?” said the lady, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>
apparent astonishment. “I should think they would
be a dreadful nuisance.”</p>
<p>I could see that mistress was annoyed by the
remark, but she answered her very gently, and
said: “It depends on your treatment of cats, Mrs.
Cotton, whether they will be a nuisance or a
pleasure. I have always found them a pleasure,
and besides, I have a special purpose in keeping
pets.”</p>
<p>“A purpose in keeping cats!” exclaimed the
lady; “do tell me what it is.”</p>
<p>“It is to teach my boy to be tender and humane
toward all animals; and as we cannot afford expensive
pets like dogs and horses, we are satisfied
with cats.”</p>
<p>“You are the first person I ever heard speak of a
purpose in keeping cats,” said Mrs. Cotton. “I
always supposed that people had cats because they
just happened to come to them.”</p>
<p>“That is not the case with these cats,” replied
mistress. “We formerly lived in a flat where we
could not keep pets, and that is one of the reasons
why I went to housekeeping.”</p>
<p>“But do you not find it very expensive to keep
house for just you two?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>“We do,” said mistress, “but it is the money that
is wisely expended, after all, that brings the largest
returns. To many people, no doubt, our modern
flats are a great boon, affording comfort and safety
that they could not possibly secure elsewhere. But
to my mind, the landlord who banishes children
from his flat is a public benefactor, however selfish
may be his motives. A child should have a home
in the truest sense of that precious word, a home
with lawn and garden, with room for pets and tools
and playthings, affording him ample opportunity to
give wholesome expression to his feelings. It is the
life lived day by day in the home that moulds and
fashions a child’s character, rather than any training
he receives in school. Spend your money right
now in <i>forming</i> correct ideas, and encouraging expression
of them, rather than save it by ignoble
economy, only to be spent later in the vain attempt
to <i>reform</i> a character perverted and dwarfed
through narrow and contracted living.”</p>
<p>“I have never before had my thoughts turned to
this subject,” said Mrs. Cotton, looking very earnestly
into mistress’ face, “but I believe what you
say is true. I am so thankful my children are still
young, that I may profit by your excellent ideas.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>
And as for cats, I never before thought they were
good for anything, having been brought up to think
of them as uncanny creatures, something to be abhorred
and dreaded. But as my little boy has
written Santa Claus to bring him a kitty for a
Christmas gift, I suppose I will have to give up my
prejudice.”</p>
<p>“It is the superstition of a by-gone age,” said
mistress; “but a happier day is coming, when the
cat will be given her rightful place as a household
pet; and through gentle treatment her nature will become
still more refined and ennobled. Notwithstanding
all that has been said about their selfish disposition,
my cats have at times shown great consideration
for each other. For instance, once I gave
them their milk in a narrow dish, where only one
could lap at a time, and to my great surprise they
took turns. On another occasion I had prepared
a plate of meat for them, arranging each cat’s
portion by itself. Budge and Meow were not
present, so Toddy ate his portion and left theirs
untouched.”</p>
<p>“That is certainly remarkable,” said Mrs. Cotton.
“I shall no longer object to having one in our
house. But I fear we shall no sooner have become<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>
attached to her before she will leave us. My neighbor
has had three very pretty kittens given her during
the last six months, and not one stayed longer
than a week.”</p>
<p>“Where does she keep them?”</p>
<p>“Oh, they stay around the yard, and when it’s
cold they crawl under the barn, or if they get a
chance they go up in the haymow.”</p>
<p>“No wonder,” said mistress. “A cat, with her
domestic instincts, in order to become attached to
a place, must have a cozy, comfortable corner
somewhere in the house that she can call her very
own. It may be nothing more than a basket with
a pad or a cushion in it, but it must be permanently
located in a retired corner of a comfortable room.
A cat thus provided will become attached to her
own peculiar furniture, and even should the family
remove to another place, if she is carefully transferred
to the new home, and her corner is at
once fitted up in a quiet room where she can
be kept indoors for a few days, she will not go
away.</p>
<p>“And while we are talking on this subject, I
trust you will pardon me if I mention something
that may seem very trivial to you, but which I consider<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>
of great importance. A cat should have a
name, because it adds to her dignity, and commands
respect for her. Moreover it enhances her
commercial value to be thus individualized, and
lifted above the general mass of her kind.”</p>
<p>“I am very glad to know all these things,” said
Mrs. Cotton. “You certainly have interested me
in this subject as I never have been before in all
my life.”</p>
<p>Before Mrs. Cotton went away that afternoon she
actually came over to the window-sill and gave
Budge several gentle strokes. I suppose she chose
Budge because he is the smallest.</p>
<p>“How docile and confiding,” said she; “they
seem to know no fear at all; and such soft and
glossy coats I never saw before.”</p>
<p>“Their confiding and docile nature is due to
kind treatment,” said mistress, “and the soft and
glossy coats are the result of good food, plenty of
fresh water and clean pads.”</p>
<p>As Mrs. Cotton took her departure, it seemed as
though her face wore a far more kindly expression
than it did when she came in.</p>
<p>Of course, I was delighted to hear all these good
things, and especially that we cats are useful, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>
serving our dear mistress such a good purpose.
May the time be near at hand when the sunshine
of love and good-will shall chase away every
shadow of hatred and cruelty!</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>
<figure class="figcenter illowe39_5" id="i_090_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_090_facing.jpg" alt="Jack">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Jack</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<h2 class="nobreak">XIII<br>
<small>JACK</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span> was a large black Manx cat that lived on
Poplar Avenue, the friend of Betsy Whitefoot, as
you will remember. His tail was only about an
inch long, and his hind legs were higher than his
front ones.</p>
<p>One day when jack’s mistress called at our house
he followed her, and, having known him since the
death of Betsy, I gave him a hearty welcome.</p>
<p>“Where did you get this beautiful cat?” said
mistress, the moment she saw Jack.</p>
<p>“My husband brought him home one bitter cold
day last winter,” said Mrs. Vandervere. “He saw
some boys chase him through an alley. The poor
creature was so thoroughly frightened that for
several days he stayed almost constantly behind
the cook-stove, refusing to come out. We thought
the boys had cut off his tail, but when I came to
wash him I discovered that he never had one.
When he recovered from his fright we found him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>
to be a very affectionate cat, and now we feel as
though we could not do without him. Often when
I am sewing he sits on my shoulders, and he used
to have a fashion of pulling pins out of my waist
with his teeth and drop them on the floor. But
one day he pulled out a crooked pin and swallowed
it, and by the way he acted we thought Jack would
not be with us much longer. A raw egg, however,
seemed to do him good, and in a few days he was
all right again; but he has never pulled out any
more pins.”</p>
<p>Jack and I with Budge and Toddy had been
lying in our sunny bay-window, but while his mistress
was still talking we two got up and went out
into the yard. Jack went straight to Betsy’s grave
and sniffed around a while, then he mounted the
fence and showed me the shortest cut over to his
house, and he also invited me to visit his catnip
bed, in which he turned several somersaults. Then
he led the way through the cellar window up into
the house, and in the library beside the fireplace
was his basket, a beautiful willow trimmed with red
ribbons, and a soft cushion inside. Jack told me
that was his “corner.” After a while we went outdoors
again, and he showed me how far he could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>
jump. It was from the top of the porch railing
to the ground; and when I am a full-grown cat
I expect to be able to do the same.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe44_3125" id="i_092_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_092_facing.jpg" alt="He Told Me an Interesting Story">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">He Told Me an Interesting Story</span>”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>After that day Jack came to see me quite often,
and he seemed especially to enjoy our beautiful
sunny porch, which, with its pads and cushions
and baskets, looked very much like Miss Virgie’s
playhouse.</p>
<p>Whenever I visited Jack, we used to sit on a
garden bench that stood in his yard, and upon
which his mistress always left a blanket for Jack’s
special comfort.</p>
<p>Jack was a great fellow to talk about old times,
and one day when we were enjoying a sun bath on
the bench he told me a very interesting story.
He said that his ancestors came from an island
across the ocean, and that he hoped some day to
visit that country.</p>
<p>I described to him my journey last summer on
the steamboat, and our visit on the farm, and it
made him even more anxious to go.</p>
<p>Continuing his story, Jack said that he was a
lineal descendant of the famous cat that made a
fortune for Richard Whittington, who was “Thrice
Lord Mayor of London.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>At this point I interrupted Jack to have him explain
to me the meaning of “ancestor,” and “lineal
descendant.” Jack was so friendly with me, I did
not mind asking him, and he willingly explained it
to me.</p>
<p>He said that the cat that lived with Richard
Whittington very many years ago had a son named
Tom; Tom had a son named Toby; Toby had a
son named Jack, and so they kept on having sons
till it finally came down to him, and that made Tom
his ancestor, and him a lineal descendant.</p>
<p>Jack then told me of some of his experiences.
He said that his ability to catch rats used to be
quite as good as that of his early ancestor, but that
since he lived in his present home, he had not much
practice, there being no rats in the neighborhood,
except an occasional one around the ash barrel.</p>
<p>I asked him where he learned the business, and
he told me that he used to live in a down-town
boarding-house, where he sometimes killed as many
as twenty rats in one day. But the cook caught
one alive one day, and tied a string around his
neck with a little bell attached, and let him go back
to his hole; and the ringing of the bell so frightened
the other rats that they all went away. Said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>
Jack: “My occupation was gone, and as the
boarding-house keeper had no further use for me,
she got some boys to chase me away.” And then
he added with some bitterness: “That was the way
she rewarded me for my services.”</p>
<p>I told Jack that I thought the treatment he received
was very cruel. Indeed, I think a dose of
chloroform administered to a cat one has no further
use for, is much more humane than chasing him
away, especially in cold weather. Of course, I
didn’t tell Jack so; and indeed I am glad it was not
done in his case. But not every cat is so fortunate
as to be picked up by a kind-hearted person and
taken to a good home.</p>
<p>Continuing our conversation I said to Jack:
“Don’t you think your present beautiful home and
kind mistress came to you as a reward for your industry
in the boarding-house?”</p>
<p>He said he had never thought of it in that light
before, but that he believed it must be so, and that
he would forgive his former mistress for her unkindness.</p>
<p>At this time Jack’s mistress called him into the
house, and I returned to my home, thankful that I
had such a genial fellow as Jack for a neighbor.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XIV<br>
<small>CHRISTMAS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I shall</span> never forget the delightful time we had
on Christmas Day.</p>
<p>Imagine my surprise when on a beautiful winter
morning we were decked out the first thing with
bright new ribbons. I knew it was not Sunday, so
I thought it must be Christmas, having heard Guy
say that Christmas was just like Sunday.</p>
<p>After we had our ribbons tied, we were called
into the library, and there on our bay-window seat
was a beautiful lily plant with seven snow white
bells on it, which filled the entire house with their
fragrant odor. On the table stood a tree, like some
I have seen in the country, and under the tree were
three beautiful new pads, one orange, one blue and
one pink, and a large willow basket with a soft
cushion in it. Hanging on the branches of the
tree, instead of apples or cherries as in grandpa’s
orchard, were rubber balls, spools, and white muslin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>
bags filled with popcorn. The spools had little
tufts of bright colored worsted sticking out at each
end, and they were suspended on narrow ribbon
long enough to reach nearly to the table, which
made it handy to play with them. The balls had
something inside, which, when we squeezed them,
would come out and tickle our noses, but we could
never see the thing that came out. We used to try
to catch it, but how could we catch a thing we
couldn’t see?</p>
<p>After we had admired the beautiful tree for a
while, Guy took down a bag for each of us. The
muslin of which the bags were made was so thin
that you could see the popcorn that was inside.
The bags were tied at each end with pretty colored
ribbon, which made them look just like little white
sausages; but how to get them open and get at the
popcorn was what puzzled me. But cats know just
as well as people, that “in union there is strength,”
so all three of us took hold of the same bag. It
was tied with blue ribbon and belonged to Budge.
For a while we played with the bag, each one pulling
in a different direction, and in a few minutes
the whole floor was littered over with popcorn.
For a while we were very busy helping ourselves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>
and I am sorry to say that each growled at the
others while eating, for fear they would get the
most: it tasted so good.</p>
<p>While we were busy eating the popcorn, Dennis
came in, wearing a beautiful new silver collar with
his name and address: “Dennis Hilton, 129 Poplar
Avenue,” inscribed upon it, and a yellow satin
bow in the ring. Of course, we invited him to
have some popcorn. But Dennis was more interested
in our new pads and basket than in the popcorn,
and after smelling of them all very cautiously,
he stretched himself out on my pad at full length
and took a nap. I was so glad he was too big for
the basket.</p>
<p>I wondered all the morning why Jack didn’t come
over, but in the afternoon we met accidentally on
the fence ledge, and he told me that they had also
had a Christmas over at his place; and he invited
me to go over with him.</p>
<p>He said that on the night before when he was
out in his poplar tree, he saw an old gray-haired
man with a long, white beard, and wearing a furry
coat and cap, drive down our street in a chariot
drawn by reindeer, and that the chariot was loaded
with the most beautiful toys and bonbons, such as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>
children like, and that he stopped at every house in
the neighborhood except Eddie’s.</p>
<p>Said I: “May be that’s Santa Claus, that we
hear so much about; but they say he always travels
in a sleigh.”</p>
<p>Jack said he guessed not, unless there was snow
on the ground.</p>
<p>By this time we had reached his yard, and he invited
me in and showed me his presents. He had
a beautiful new brass collar with “Jack Vandervere,
111 Poplar Avenue” inscribed upon it. He also
had a box of sardines which tasted perfectly delicious.</p>
<p>Mistress sometimes gives us salmon and it is very
good; but I like sardines better because they are
whole, and it is such fun to toss them around and
play “catch” with them. If they would only wiggle
a little, it would be still more fun to play with
them.</p>
<p>Jack had many other presents, but the one that
interested me most of all was a little box that sings
when you pull a string. His mistress pulled the
string for me, and the very first song that came out
was one I have heard mistress sing, about an Owl
and a Pussy Cat that went to sea and got married.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>
Another song that came out of the box was “My
Pussy has gone from her Basket.” It seemed to be
gotten up on purpose for pussies. Perhaps if I am
a real good cat, the little old man will bring me a
song box some time. Next Christmas eve I shall
watch for him from my poplar tree.</p>
<p>While I was admiring Jack’s presents and listening
to the lovely music, in came Willie Cotton, carrying
in his arms a beautiful jet black kitten with
amber eyes and a white “breastpin.” It had a yellow
ribbon around its neck, to which was fastened
a note, as follows</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Labrador</span>, Dec. 25.</p>
<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Willie</span>:</p>
<p>“This will introduce to you Nicodemus.
I have sent him to you because you belong to the
Band of Mercy, and want some animal to love and
care for. Fix him a comfortable place in some
room where he will be obliged to be neat and orderly
in his habits. He will make you no trouble,
if you will take him out into the yard every morning,
noon and evening, and always take him to the
same place.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="indentright">“Your faithful friend,</span><br>
“<span class="smcap">Mrs. Santa Claus</span>.”</p>
</div>
<p>As Nicodemus was a Manx cat, Jack treated him
very kindly, and invited him to have some sardines<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>
with us. While we were eating, the box played a
song that I have often heard about some little fishes
that asked their mother if they could go and play.
I can’t repeat the song but I will tell you what I
remember of it. Their mother said no, but the little
fishes went anyhow; and the result was that
they got so far away from home they could not find
their way back again. At last they were caught in
a net with a lot of other fishes, and taken to the
cannery.</p>
<p>“Perhaps these are the very ones,” said Jack, as
he pointed to the box that was fast becoming
empty. I don’t know whether Jack’s object was to
save his few remaining sardines or not; but, anyway,
I did not care for any more just then; and as
the sun had gone down, I bade Jack and his guest
a very good-evening.</p>
<p>And so ended our Christmas.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XV<br>
<small>OLD BLACKIE</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> often wondered how it happened that
a busy woman like mistress was so much interested
in cats, till one evening the mystery was cleared
up. A lovely lady whom Guy called “Aunt
Minnie” was staying with us at the time—and by
the way we cats are very happy whenever she
comes to visit us, because then somebody always
sends such beautiful flowers.</p>
<p>I had climbed up into mistress’ lap to listen to a
story she was reading about some Cat Club. But
as it was only about Angoras and Persian cats, and
not a word about Maltese and tigers, it did not interest
me very much, and I curled up and took a
nap. When I awoke, mistress was talking, and the
first I heard was:</p>
<p>“When I was a little girl in Switzerland, we had
horses, cows, dogs, cats and rabbits, and I was very
fond of them all. I suppose the reason I have become
so fond of cats is because I have for many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>
years been deprived of the other pets, and for some
time while boarding, I didn’t even have a cat. But
just before Guy was born we started housekeeping
in a down-town cottage, and on the very first day
an enormous black cat came to the kitchen door,
pleading for admittance. Having found that there
were mice and rats in the cellar, I gladly let him
in and from that day I never saw a rat or a mouse
in the house. We fixed him a comfortable corner
in the basement, and named him ‘Tom.’ From
the first he acted like one thoroughly familiar with
the premises, and no wonder: I learned afterward
from the neighbors that he had lived in that house
for many years with successive tenants.</p>
<p>“But one morning I heard some very queer noises
in the basement, and when I went down to see
what it was, I found Tom lying in his basket with
four of the tiniest kittens I had ever seen, and looking
up at me so pleadingly, as if to say: ‘You’ll be
good to them, won’t you?’</p>
<p>“We knew then that ‘Tom’ was not an appropriate
name for our cat, for whoever heard of a
mother cat named ‘Tom’? So we told Guy’s
nurse to find a new name for her, and because she
was so black, Emma named her ‘Old Blackie.’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>“What has become of Old Blackie and her
kittens?” said Aunt Minnie.</p>
<p>Mistress continued: “Blackie raised her family,
two tigers and two Maltese; the Maltese were
named ‘Jumbo’ and ‘Fritz,’ the tigers ‘Meow’ and
‘Peggy.’ Jumbo and Peggy were adopted by the
doctor who attended Guy; Fritz was taken home
by our milkman, and I kept Meow. But the following
year Guy’s health was not good, and we
went to my father’s to spend the summer on the
farm. In the meantime some more kittens had
come to Blackie, and I arranged with my neighbor’s
little girl to take care of the whole family
during my absence, and to find homes for the little
ones, if she could. Meow we took with us, in a
large bird cage covered with a cloth.”</p>
<p>As I listened to the story of Old Blackie, I was
reminded of old Peter, a cat that was deserted by
his people who left him in the cellar. He was
nearly drowned when the landlord found him, and
took him to his own beautiful home; and he
named him Peter, because he had found him walking
in the water.</p>
<p>Aunt Minnie had by this time become so interested<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>
in mistress’ story, that she asked her to
also relate the history of Meow.</p>
<p>“That was my first experience traveling with a
cat,” said mistress. “Emma took care of Meow,
and I held the baby.</p>
<p>“On the farm Meow became very popular, and
she and grandpa were the best of friends. I well
remember how at meal-times she would always sit
on the broad window-sill in the dining-room, and
as soon as grandpa finished, and began to lean
back in his big armchair, she would spring on his
shoulder and caress him. Then he would prepare
her a dainty dinner and carry it out to the kitchen
with her perched on his shoulder. I also remember
that when her first kittens came she was determined
to put them into my bureau drawer. But
I took her out into the kitchen and made her a
nice soft bed in an old cheese box, where she
raised her family and became a very good mother.”</p>
<p>“But where is Meow now?” said Aunt Minnie.</p>
<p>“When the summer was over and the time approached
for our departure,” said mistress,
“grandpa had become so attached to Meow, he invited
her to stay with him; and as she had a family
I was glad to let her remain.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>“And is she there yet?” asked Aunt Minnie.</p>
<p>“No,” said mistress. “She lived there seven
years, and then grandpa went to live on another
farm. On the day they moved he put her into a
bag to take her to the new house; but, instead of
putting her into a closed room until she recovered
from the excitement caused by the removal, he
opened the bag in the yard, and she ran away as
fast as she could.</p>
<p>“Some months later grandpa learned that she
had gone back to the old place; for on the morning
after the new family moved in, they found
her lying in her cheese box, very ill and unable to
move, and on that same day she died. She had
traveled three miles and crossed a wide creek in
order to reach her old home.”</p>
<p>When I heard this story I remembered mistress’
remark on that first morning, that I looked like
“Meow,” and it dawned upon me why I was given
that name. And having become acquainted with
grandpa I was glad to be named after an animal
that had given him so much pleasure, and I was
more determined than ever to be a good and useful
cat. That’s why I never beg when I sit at the
table, and very often when mistress has finished I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>
jump from my chair up to her shoulder and kiss
her cheek. Sometimes I can hardly wait till she
gets through.</p>
<p>But I am very sorry that Meow left grandpa in
such a hasty manner, and no doubt the good old
man thought she was a poor homeless cat until
he heard of her death. I would not be afraid at
any place to which Guy or mistress might take me,
as long as they were with me.</p>
<p>Having heard the history of Meow, my namesake,
Aunt Minnie wanted to know what had become
of Old Blackie.</p>
<p>“Old Blackie,” said mistress, “came to a very
sad end. During my absence I had my milkman
leave milk for her every day, and my butcher
brought her meat regularly; I also left a dozen
cans of salmon so that Blackie and her kittens
could have one every week. After we had been
gone about two months, the little girl wrote that
Blackie had died, and that she had found homes
for all the kittens but one, which she would like to
keep herself. Upon my return home I learned
that Blackie’s death was due to gangrene poisoning,
caused by eating salmon that had been left in
the can after opening.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>“This is a very sad ending to a most interesting
story,” said Aunt Minnie; and I thought so too.
I think we cats ought all to feel very grateful to
Old Blackie, because it was she that got mistress
interested in cats again, after she had been so long
a time without any, and in this I am sure Blackie
did all cats a great service.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XVI<br>
<small>MY GREAT SORROW</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> evening when we cats had had our usual
frolic in the library and bedtime was drawing near,
I went to the door, as usual, and gave mistress the
look which told her that I wanted to go out. She
opened the door in the kindest manner, and as it
was a beautiful moonlight night I mounted the
fence and went over to Jack’s house, for I had
something very important to tell him. I had heard
Guy tell mistress that very evening not to let us
stay out much evenings, because he had been told
that it was the fashion in schools and colleges to
dissect cats, so they can see how we are put together.
He said that one of the boys had told him
that they just go out nights and get any cats they
can catch, or that will come to them; and that the
majority of cats gathered up in this way are somebody’s
pets because they are so much more tame
than others, and more easily caught.</p>
<p>When I told this to Jack, it made him very indignant.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>
“The idea of such an outrage perpetrated
on us poor unsuspecting cats,” said he.
“Where is the Humane Agent? Why don’t he
arrest the thieves?”</p>
<p>I told Jack that from what I had heard, one
might steal all the cats in Christendom, except the
highly favored Angoras and Persians, and he could
not be arrested, because the law does not protect
cats.</p>
<p>When Jack heard this he could hardly contain
himself for anger, and he invited me to go over to
his yard and sit on the bench with him, where we
could talk the matter over quietly. But just then
his mistress called him, and being a very obedient
cat, he went right into the house. I went over toward
my poplar tree, and as I neared my house I
heard my mistress calling me also. But it was
such a pleasant evening, the moonlight was so
beautiful and the stars shone so brightly, I really
could not bear the thought of going in. Even the
whetting of the carving knife did not tempt me,
and I did not heed my dear mistress’ call. It
seems as though I could hear even now that tender
voice falling softly on the night air: “Come,
Meow, come,” before she finally closed the door.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>
How dearly I paid for my disobedience, I will tell
you.</p>
<p>After staying up in the poplar tree awhile, I concluded
to go in, but the doors were all shut, and the
house was dark. I called at the kitchen door, but
nobody heard me, so I crawled into a soap box in
which I found an old blanket, put there for me, no
doubt, by my thoughtful mistress. But for some
reason or other I could not get that dreadful dissecting
story off my mind, and while I sat in my
box thinking about it, I saw an old black cat,—not
Jack—come along on the fence ledge and descend
into my yard. I jumped up immediately and asked
him what business he had prowling around in my
yard at that time of night.</p>
<p>“I am looking for you,” said he, “and I want you
to go with me to visit a friend down by the railroad.”</p>
<p>On the whole the cat had quite a distinguished
appearance, and I must say I felt somewhat flattered
by his attention. Besides that, he was so polite and
kind, and I so lonely. Well, to make a long story
short, I accepted his invitation.</p>
<p>My companion said we must hurry, as it was a
long distance, so we started on our journey at once.
We walked to the end of Poplar Avenue, farther<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>
than I had walked before in all my life; then
we crossed several railroad tracks, and for a short
distance we went on the top of a fence inclosing a
beautiful yard with trees and shrubs and flowers.
Quite a distance from the fence stood a large white
mansion, and there my companion alighted and
bade me follow him.</p>
<p>“Here is where my friend lives,” said he, “and
his name is Cæsar Augustus Napoleon, so you can
imagine he is no ordinary cat.”</p>
<p>I felt very proud to think I should soon meet
such a distinguished cat, but we had not gone many
steps when a very loud bark frightened me, and I
saw an enormous bulldog come toward us. I retraced
my steps to the fence, and ran away as fast
as I could. But I must have gone the wrong way,
for I could not find the railroad tracks which we had
crossed.</p>
<p>When I had gone far enough to be out of the
dog’s reach, I rested for a few minutes, and bethought
me what to do. A short distance from the
fence was another beautiful mansion, and it looked
so inviting in the clear moonlight, I went over on
the porch and sat upon the door-mat. There was no
dog around to frighten me, so I rested quietly, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>
was just about ready to doze off into a nap when
my black companion came along, limping on three
legs, his head bleeding, and one of his eyes completely
closed. He had traced me to the porch,
and came up and sat down beside me, but said
nothing—goodness me, what could he say?—and
as I was very tired, I soon fell asleep. When I
awoke he had gone, and I felt I was very fortunate
to be rid of him, for was he not the cause of all my
trouble?</p>
<p>Sad and strange thoughts passed through my
mind on that unhappy morning, and I could only
hope that the “Kind Providence” that I had so
often heard mistress tell about, would be good
enough to help even a poor little homeless cat like
me.</p>
<p>I stayed on the porch all night, lonely, and shivering
with cold. I, who had always been used to
sleeping on a nice soft pad or cushion even in the
house, there on that cold night had to sleep outdoors
on a straw mat. But we must expect sorrow
and shame for disobedience. After all my greatest
sorrow was caused by the thought of how dreadfully
my dear mistress would feel in the morning at
not finding me.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>If only the dear children who read this story
would take warning from my sad experience, and
never disobey their parents, I could feel that some
good had come out of my great sorrow.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XVII<br>
<small>THE KIND PROVIDENCE</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> it was morning, a man came out of the
stable door back of the mansion and began sweeping
the walks. I started to go away when he came
near me, but he called to me in such a kind way, I
lingered, though half afraid, for a few moments.</p>
<p>Instead of sweeping the porch where I was sitting,
he passed by, only sweeping the steps, talking
gently to me as he went along. I could tell by the
tone of his voice that he was a kind-hearted man,
and when he returned, I followed him into the
stable.</p>
<p>There I saw four beautiful horses, each in a clean
large stall, and they all looked so happy and self-respecting.
One was much darker than the others,
and I wondered whether possibly he was the
“Black Beauty” I had heard so much about. The
man then began to brush and comb the horses,
talking to them, and whistling and singing part of
the time. When he had finished, he gave them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>
their breakfast of oats and hay. During all this
time I sat contentedly in a corner under the manger,
quite forgetful of the unhappy night I had
passed.</p>
<p>After a while a boy, about Guy’s age and with
just such blond, bushy hair, came into the stable,
followed by an enormous white and yellow St. Bernard.
I was terribly frightened when I saw the
dog, but I didn’t let him know it; it isn’t a cat’s
way, you know. In a jiffy my back went up, and
my tail took on the shape of a jug handle. But
the dog didn’t pay a bit of attention to me. He
lay down calmly and quietly, and in such a dignified
manner. I said to myself “here is a real gentleman.”
Gradually I moved a little closer to him,
and lay down also. The boy then came over to
where I was and said: “Why, kitty, what is your
name?”</p>
<p>I said “Meow.”</p>
<p>But he evidently did not understand me, for after
a while he said, “Come, Tommie, and see my sister,”
and he took me up in his arms and carried me
into the house.</p>
<p>There I found a beautiful young lady by the
name of Miss Dorothy. She had laughing blue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>
eyes and long golden hair, which hung down her
back in a graceful braid, tied at the end with a blue
ribbon. There was also Mr. Banks her father, and
Miss Beggs, the housekeeper. Arthur—that’s the
boy’s name—set me down by the side of his sister,
and told her where he had found me.</p>
<p>I am very thankful to the kind Providence that
put it into his heart to love animals and to show
kindness to a poor little homeless cat like me.</p>
<p>Miss Dorothy took me to the bathroom, where
she sponged off my coat and wiped it dry with a
towel. Then she gave me a good combing, and
tied a fresh ribbon around my neck, for the one that
I had on was all soiled and ragged. She did not
like the name Tommie, so she called me Tootsie, a
name which I trust I never dishonored, during the
short time I bore it. Miss Dorothy also put a soft
silken cushion at the foot of her bed, and that was
my “corner” during all the time I stayed with her.</p>
<p>But my new ribbon came very near causing me
serious trouble. Miss Dorothy had tied it so
loosely that it was quite uncomfortable. I tried to
slip it over my head, and in so doing my lower jaw
became caught in it, and I was unable to close my
mouth. The worst of it all was, my jaw was caught<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>
in such a way that I could not make an outcry or
give any alarm. I just tumbled over and over myself
in my frantic effort to get the troublesome thing
off, and Miss Dorothy looked on, evidently thinking
I was playing. Finally I just sank down, exhausted,
and then she noticed my trouble, and with
the scissors quickly cut the ribbon. After that she
tied it more carefully.</p>
<p>I happened to be in the dining-room one day
when they were arranging the dinner-table, and as
four chairs were placed when there were but three
persons to sit down, I concluded that the fourth
was for me; so I jumped up next to Miss Dorothy.
She seemed very much pleased, and welcomed me
with a pat on my back; but Mr. Banks frowned,
and said I must not be allowed such liberties. At
this Miss Beggs offered to take me out of the room,
but Miss Dorothy begged so hard for me to be allowed
to stay, Mr. Banks finally consented, saying
that if I continued to behave as well as I had so
far, he would not object.</p>
<p>“She is no common cat,” said Arthur; “she acts
as if she were accustomed to sitting at the table.”</p>
<p>Miss Dorothy gave me a loving look and said,
“You are a treasure, Toots.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>Before the meal was quite finished, “Dr. Fogg”
was announced, and Miss Dorothy arose from
the table saying that she was expecting him for
dinner.</p>
<p>Miss Beggs then took me up-stairs, but after dinner
I went down to the library, and spent a very
pleasant evening with Dr. Fogg and Miss Dorothy.</p>
<p>I had given myself such a vigorous scrubbing
while up-stairs that my fur was stuck together in
little tufts all over my body; but Miss Dorothy
picked me up and smoothed it all out, and put a
pretty fresh ribbon around my neck.</p>
<p>Then Dr. Fogg took me for a while, and after he
had looked me all over he said I was a good
healthy cat.</p>
<p>“How can you tell?” said Miss Dorothy.</p>
<p>“Because her nostrils are cold and moist,” was
the reply. “A sick or famished cat has dry, hot
nostrils. This cat also has many good points,”
added the doctor: “short nose, short thick tail,
short round ears and soft silken fur.”</p>
<p>“You are a lover of cats, I take it, or you would
not be so well versed in cat-lore,” said Miss Dorothy,
with evident pleasure.</p>
<p>“You would think so if you could see my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>
Remus,” replied the doctor, the while gently stroking
my back. “I wouldn’t part with him for a
fortune. Better than any medicine to a restless
overworked mind is a sleek healthy cat for a bed-fellow,
for the electricity with which his fur is
charged will induce sleep when all other means
fail.”</p>
<p>“How perfectly wonderful,” said Miss Dorothy.
“I must get one for papa. Where did you get
Remus?”</p>
<p>“Remus,” said the doctor, “was one of a pair of
black kittens that belonged to old Black Betty at
the college. Betty had the mange several times,
but the students always cured her by rubbing her
sores with a mixture of lard and sulphur, which she
would immediately lick off. During her last attack,
however, she seemed to have a presentiment that
her hour had come. One morning, while my
father was lecturing to the students, Betty brought
in one of her kittens, laid it at his feet, looked up
into his face and mewed. Then she went and
fetched the other, and repeated the same action,
after which she returned to her basket, and ten
minutes later the janitor found her dead. Father
regarded those kittens as a sacred trust, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>
insisted that both be kept in our house; so sister
appropriated one, and I the other; and this is how
I came into possession of Remus.”</p>
<p>When the doctor began to talk about the things
that they did at the college, I expected to hear
quite a different story. I am glad now to know
that they do some other things for cats in colleges
besides dissecting them.</p>
<p>“By the way,” said Miss Dorothy, “I read in
to-day’s paper that in some place where diphtheria
is raging, all the cats have been killed because it is
supposed that they spread the disease. And in
another place where the smallpox has broken out,
the health officer proposes that it is necessary to
kill off all the stray and homeless cats and dogs
before the disease can be stamped out. What do
you think of that?”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” said the doctor. “Everything that
lives, from a fly to an elephant, is liable to carry
germs, and one of the most prolific conductors of
germs is the rat; so you see that even the persecuted
alley cat has a reason for her existence.
Indeed, the congested districts of a large city would
be uninhabitable, and we would see the scenes of the
famous mouse tower enacted over again, were it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>
not for the services of this much maligned and misunderstood
creature.”</p>
<p>“It seems to me,” said Miss Dorothy, “if there
were anything in this theory about cats and dogs
spreading smallpox, for instance, they would themselves
be subject to the disease. But whoever
heard of a cat or dog dying of smallpox, or even
being afflicted with it?”</p>
<p>“I am sure I never did,” replied the doctor.</p>
<p>As for me, the things to which I had been listening
filled me with astonishment and indignation,
and I retired to my corner on Miss Dorothy’s bed
to think matters over. Would that there were
more such kind-hearted people to speak for the defenseless
as Miss Dorothy and the doctor.</p>
<p>But I must return to my story. Bernie, the dog,
was a noble, dignified animal, and not the least bit
jealous of the attention that was being paid to me.
Often when I was out in the yard, he would invite
me to lie beside him in the sunshine, and when I
did so he would put his head down close to mine
and look into my eyes, just as if he wanted to tell
me something real nice. His coat was always
clean and fluffy, because he had a bath regularly
once a week, and his “corner” was in the rear hall,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>
where he had a white fur rug for his resting-place.
But he spent most of his time outside with Arthur
and the coachman.</p>
<p>During the first day or two at Miss Dorothy’s I
really suffered hunger, although I was in the midst
of plenty, for the cook never thought of giving
me a morsel of anything. She would throw the
nicest tidbits of meat and fish that came from the
table right into the garbage can, and let me hunt
for food the best way I could. Of course, I was
not used to eating out of garbage cans, and really,
I’d starve rather than do such a vulgar thing. After
a few days of such scanty fare as I could get by
catching flies and grasshoppers, I jumped up on the
pantry table one morning to see if I couldn’t find
something more substantial, and what should I
see there but a great big fish. I grabbed him by
the tail and jumped down, but the fish got to the
floor before I did. I then took hold of him and
pulled him over to the cellar door, and was just
starting down the stairs to take him to a quiet
place, where I could have my feast undisturbed,
when the cook came in.</p>
<p>“Faith an’ I knowed all the time ye was a thief,”
said she, jerking my treasure away from me; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>
then she called Miss Dorothy in to see what her
new pet was up to. Miss Dorothy took me up in
her arms, but did not say one unpleasant word to
me. She knew that no respectable cat would
steal, unless actually driven to it. She asked the
cook when I was last fed, and upon learning that
no one had paid any attention to me in the way of
food, she told Miss Beggs to see that I was properly
cared for at every meal thereafter, and after
that I fared better. Miss Beggs would gather up
the choicest little remnants of meat or chicken or
fish on the plates, and mix them with a little
mashed potato or rice in such a way that it made
the daintiest meal for me.</p>
<p>So you see the kind Providence did take care of
me, even though I am only a cat.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XVIII<br>
<small>A WELCOME VISITOR</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Dorothy</span> had many lovely neighbors, but
the one I liked best of all was Mrs. Stevens. One
day when the two ladies were visiting, I happened
to be in the room, and Miss Dorothy told Mrs.
Stevens how I had come to her a homeless little
stranger. Mrs. Stevens said that her children had
been wanting a little kitty for a long time, but that
she had never allowed them to have one till Mrs.
Cotton persuaded her to do so.</p>
<p>When I heard the name of Mrs. Cotton, I was so
overjoyed, I jumped on the floor and turned several
somersaults, and Mrs. Stevens laughed heartily at
my antics.</p>
<p>One day while napping on my cushion, I was
awakened by a familiar voice in Miss Dorothy’s
room. It was a lady, and she asked Miss Dorothy
if she could take charge of the Band of Mercy for a
while, as Miss Wallace the leader, had been called
away.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>Of course having heard the story of Beautiful
Joe, I know all about the Band of Mercy.
It is a place where little boys and girls sing
and speak lovely pieces. Here is one I heard
Guy read to his mother from “Dumb Animals:”</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Three little kittens, so downy and soft,</div>
<div class="indent">Were cuddled up by the fire,</div>
<div class="verse">And two little children were sleeping aloft,</div>
<div class="indent">As cozy as heart could desire;</div>
<div class="verse">Dreaming of something ever so nice,</div>
<div class="verse">Dolls and sugar-plums, rats and mice.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The night wore on, and the mistress said,</div>
<div class="indent">“I’m sleepy, I must confess,</div>
<div class="verse">And as kitties and babies are safe in bed,</div>
<div class="indent">I’ll go to bed too, I guess.”</div>
<div class="verse">She went up-stairs, just a story higher,</div>
<div class="verse">While the kittens slept by the kitchen fire.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“What noise can that be?” the mistress said.</div>
<div class="indent">“Meow! meow!” “I’m afraid</div>
<div class="verse">A poor kitty-cat’s fallen out of bed!</div>
<div class="indent">The nice little nest I made!”</div>
<div class="verse">“Meow! meow!” “Dear me! dear me!</div>
<div class="verse">I wonder what can the matter be!”</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The mistress paused on an upper stair,</div>
<div class="indent">For, what did she see below?</div>
<div class="verse">But three little kittens, with frightened air,</div>
<div class="indent">Standing up in a row!</div>
<div class="verse">With six little paws on the step above,</div>
<div class="verse">And no mother cat to caress or love!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>
<div class="verse">Through the kitchen door came a cloud of smoke!</div>
<div class="indent">The mistress, in great alarm,</div>
<div class="verse">To a sense of danger straightway awoke:</div>
<div class="indent">Her babies might come to harm.</div>
<div class="verse">On the kitchen hearth, to her great amaze,</div>
<div class="verse">Was a basket of shavings beginning to blaze.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The three little kittens were hugged and kissed,</div>
<div class="indent">And promised many a mouse;</div>
<div class="verse">While their names were put upon honor’s list,</div>
<div class="indent">For hadn’t they saved a house?</div>
<div class="verse">And two little children were gathered tight</div>
<div class="verse">To their mother’s heart ere she slept that night.</div>
</div></div></div>
<p>The mention of the Band of Mercy brought to
my mind little Willie Cotton, and instantly it
dawned upon me that the strange lady was Willie’s
mother. Mrs. Cotton carried a bunch of delicious
sweet violets, as usual.</p>
<p>“I will be most happy to do anything I can for
Miss Wallace,” said Miss Dorothy, “and if you
think I am able to lead the Band, it will give me
great pleasure to do so.”</p>
<p>While Miss Dorothy was speaking I got up from
my cushion, and jumped into her lap, but Mrs.
Cotton did not seem to notice me at all; she was
so interested in the Band of Mercy. Then, although
I knew it was very rude to do so, I jumped
over on Mrs. Cotton’s lap. I felt that I must in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>
some way attract her attention. Mrs. Cotton
petted me a little, so I climbed up to her face and
kissed her nose. At this Mrs. Cotton seemed to
take alarm. Perhaps she thought I was on the
way up to her hat again; but I wasn’t, for the
birdies had all flown away.</p>
<p>“What an affectionate little creature,” said she,
holding me firmly in her lap. “Where did you get
this cat?”</p>
<p>“She came to us a couple of weeks ago,” said
Miss Dorothy, “and made herself so thoroughly
agreeable that I have had her as my constant companion
ever since.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Cotton looked at me more closely and said,
“She looks like a cat that my neighbor, Mrs. Paxton
has lost, and she has been very unhappy over
it; only a few days ago she said she still hoped to
find her again.”</p>
<p>Miss Dorothy looked very sad. “Is there any
way by which you could prove that this is Mrs.
Paxton’s cat?” said she, “for, if she is, I want to
return her.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Cotton put her hand to her forehead evidently
trying to recall my name, when I cried out
“meow.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“Oh, ‘Meow’! that was the cat’s name. Meow!
Meow!”</p>
<p>At the sound of my name I could hardly contain
myself. I kissed Mrs. Cotton’s cheek many times,
and then, seeing Miss Dorothy looked sad, I went
over and kissed her too.</p>
<p>“I believe you are right,” said Miss Dorothy,
“and if Tootsie belongs to Mrs. Paxton, she shall
have her back. I named her after Miss Willard’s
cat because she seemed so well-bred and so dignified.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Paxton will be delighted to see you,” said
Mrs. Cotton, “for I feel quite sure that this is her
cat.”</p>
<p>“We shall all be very sorry to give her up,” said
Miss Dorothy, as she accompanied Mrs. Cotton to
the door.</p>
<p>At the dinner-table Miss Dorothy told her father
and Arthur what Mrs. Cotton had told her.</p>
<p>“There is only one thing to do, daughter,” said
Mr. Banks.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Miss Dorothy, “I am going to take
her over to-day.”</p>
<p>Then I knew that that would be my last day at
Miss Dorothy’s, and wishing to give my dear mistress<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>
all the pleasure I could, I immediately set to
washing myself and smoothing my fur.</p>
<p>To be sure I felt sad to leave my new friends
who had been so very kind to me, still I was overjoyed
thinking of the happiness it would give my
mistress to find me again.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XIX<br>
<small>A JOYFUL REUNION</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Soon</span> after dinner that same day the carriage
drove up to the side entrance, and Miss Dorothy
wrapped me in a small blanket and took me away
with her.</p>
<p>She held me on her lap all the way and said loving
words, telling me how she would miss me if I
belonged to the other lady. My head was out of
the blanket so I could see where we were going.</p>
<p>After a short drive on a beautiful avenue we
turned down a quiet side street, and there, to my
great delight, I saw the long row of poplar trees so
dear to me. They seemed like so many old friends,
standing there to welcome me home. Another
familiar sight was Eddie riding his velocipede, and
when next I saw Jack seated on his window-sill, I
knew that we must be getting close to Number 127.</p>
<p>Presently the carriage stopped and Miss Dorothy
alighted, leaving me on the seat in care of the good,
kind coachman. In a few minutes, which seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>
hours to me, Miss Dorothy returned to fetch me
into the house. My dear mistress met me at the
door, and the moment she saw me she said, “Meow,
why did you leave me?” at the same time taking
me out of Miss Dorothy’s arms. I climbed up to
her face and covered her cheeks with kisses.</p>
<p>Poor Miss Dorothy watched me very closely, but
after such a greeting she could have no doubt that
I was the lost Meow.</p>
<p>“I am sorry to take her from you,” said mistress,
“for you must have become attached to her if you
have had her all this time.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Miss Dorothy, “she has been a most
agreeable companion; I shall miss her sorely.”</p>
<p>Then the ladies chatted for a few minutes, Miss
Dorothy telling mistress how I was found by her
coachman, and mistress telling her when I disappeared;
and as the two dates were only one day
apart, both rejoiced that I had been fortunate enough
to find a new home so soon.</p>
<p>“I will see that you get one in her place,” said
mistress, trying to console poor Miss Dorothy, as
she arose to go; and I went on the window-sill to
see the carriage roll away.</p>
<p>The next thing I did was to look around for my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>
companions, Budge and Toddy. On entering the
library I saw upon the table a vase of beautiful
flowers, and Budge and Toddy up there walking
around the vase, admiring the flowers, and smelling
them. I went up to them but they did not seem to
remember me, and acted rather uppish—I mean with
their backs. But after a while they recognized me
as their former playmate, and their backs went down.
Of course they wanted to know all about my absence,
and they told me of all the searching that
had been done, and how mistress would go out in
the yard day after day and call for me.</p>
<p>“Even Dennis was hunting for you all over the
neighborhood,” said Toddy.</p>
<p>“And Jack came over every day,” said Budge,
“to inquire whether you had returned.”</p>
<p>When it got to be time for the children to come
from school, I went to the window to watch for
Guy. But after all the children had passed by, and
he did not come, I went to his room.</p>
<p>There I found a strange lady dressed in blue, and
wearing a white cap and apron, and somebody was
lying in Guy’s bed. I jumped up on the bed, as I
had often done, and saw that it was Guy; but he
looked so pale and thin, and to my great surprise,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>
he took no notice of me. The house was very still,
and everybody spoke in a whisper; I could not understand
what it all meant.</p>
<p>During the afternoon a very tall gentleman
called, with a hand bag. They called him “Doctor.”
I heard him talk to the strange lady about
“temperature” and “quinine” and “hot compress”
and other things that I had never heard of
before.</p>
<p>At supper-time Dennis came in and I went
up to him and looked into his eyes. He put
his nose down close to mine and gave a soft low
growl; perhaps he was scolding me for having
stayed away so long. Early the next morning
I scampered over to Jack’s house. I found him
seated on the ledge of the fence, intently watching
the ash box, but as soon as he saw me he came to
meet me.</p>
<p>“Where have you been?” said he, joyfully, as
he rubbed his side up against me in the most friendly
fashion. “I never expected to see you again, for I
was afraid some of those dreadful college boys had
got hold of you.”</p>
<p>At this moment Jack’s mistress came out into the
yard, and when she saw me she too seemed delighted,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>
and to fitly celebrate my return, she brought
out the song box and made it play “The Cat Came
Back.”</p>
<p>Of course, I had to give Jack an account of how
I happened to disappear so suddenly, and when I
told him about my black companion and that woeful
night he expressed great surprise.</p>
<p>“That explains Nig’s absence,” said he. “His
people, the Mortons, have missed him for several
weeks. I don’t blame him for leaving, because
they made him stay outdoors on the coldest
nights; and they gave him his food in an old tin
pan big enough to water a horse with; and his
usual fare was plain boiled potatoes, or oat meal
mush.”</p>
<p>I told Jack the condition Nig was in when I last
saw him, but he said that was nothing unusual for
Nig, and that he had often seen him with both eyes
closed after a night’s outing.</p>
<p>It was many weeks before Guy went to school
again, and as soon as he was able to be up, the
nurse permitted me to stay in his room all the
time; so I spent many pleasant days with him.
He told me about a big Maltese cat that came to
the house just before he was taken ill, and how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>
they took her in and fed her as long as she stayed,
because they wanted to do by her as they hoped
some one was doing by me. I hope the kind
Providence helped her to find her home again.</p>
<p>As soon as Guy was strong enough, the nurse
taught him how to knit, and he was trying to make
a pair of slippers to surprise his mother on her
birthday. Oh! the fun I used to have playing with
that ball of yarn. Often when it was wound around
me, Guy would have to straighten it out before he
could go on with his knitting. But once it came
near costing me my life. The nurse was out on an
errand at the time and Guy had dozed off to sleep,
so I concluded to go down-stairs and get a little
fresh air. But when I had gone half-way down
the stairs something began pulling me back.
Harder and harder I jerked, and harder and
harder it pulled, till it finally broke and I got
away. The yarn was wound around my neck so
many times, it seemed like a rope, and I was
gasping for breath at the foot of the stairs, when
the nurse came in. She quickly cut it with the
scissors, or I fear I should never have lived
to tell the story of my happy home-coming.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XX<br>
<small>A NEW HOME</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">As</span> soon as Guy was well again, he and mistress
began to pack boxes and trunks, as if getting ready
for another journey; and sure enough, one pleasant
day as I sat on the window-sill, a big moving van
drove up in front of our house.</p>
<p>As soon as mistress saw it she took us cats up to
the attic, where we stayed the rest of the day.
We looked out of the window, and saw one thing
after another carried out of the house, and really
we wondered with some misgivings as to what was
happening to our dear home; even our basket had
been put into the wagon. As we sat thinking
these sad thoughts, and wondering what was going
to be done with us, Guy came in with a big
covered willow basket. He placed us inside of it,
closed the cover, fastened it, and took us down-stairs
and handed us to the driver. Then he too
mounted the wagon, seating himself in front with
the driver. I was so glad to see him go with us,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>
and he kept our basket close by his side so that I
could see him through the cracks in the basket, and
could hear his voice. The rumbling of the wheels
was not very pleasant to listen to, and Budge and
Toddy were terribly frightened; you see they had
never traveled, as I had, and didn’t know what it
all meant.</p>
<p>But our journey was very short. We stopped
in front of a little white house with vine-covered
verandas, where Guy jumped down and took us in,
and mistress was there to welcome us. She took
us at once up to the attic, and when we emerged
from the basket, what should we find but our pads
spread out in the sun with a saucer of milk by the
side of them. There we stayed until morning, but
we did not sleep very much; why? There were
too many cozy nooks and corners to explore, and
besides that, Toddy said he saw a mouse poke her
head above a little hole, and we all watched the
hole with him. But I am half afraid the mouse
must have seen us, for she took care not to return.</p>
<p>In the morning Guy called us down-stairs and
showed us all around the premises, and we were
delighted to find such a large green yard with
shrubs and trees. In front of the house were three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>
big maples, where we could climb up in case of
danger from big dogs.</p>
<p>When we entered the house, we found our dear
basket and cushions in a cozy corner of the library,
and it just seemed as though 127 Poplar Avenue
had been carried down bodily in the moving van.
Off mistress’ room was a delightful veranda and it
was just the nicest place for us cats, because it used
to make the dogs so furious to see us where they
could not chase us. Mistress put one of our pads
on the veranda, and in very warm weather we
stayed out there all night. Budge used to go to
sleep on the railing, and it was a common thing to
hear his cry down below in the early morning.
But the tumble didn’t seem to do him any harm.</p>
<p>On the very next day after we had moved, I was
sitting on the window-sill in Guy’s room, looking
down into the yard. On top of the board fence
separating our yard from our neighbor’s was a big
yellow cat, and below on the lawn stood a small
white and yellow dog whom they called “Jip.”</p>
<p>“Those are some of our new neighbors,” said
mistress, “and we will see if we can get on good
terms with them.”</p>
<p>With that she raised the window, and threw out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>
some raw beef. The cat jumped off the fence, and
she and the dog both ran for the meat. Mistress
threw down several more pieces, and when it ceased
to come dropping down, both looked up very wistfully.</p>
<p>About this time another cat appeared, a weak,
sickly little creature, looking timorous, and very
unhappy. I felt sure that mistress’ heart would be
touched at sight of her. The cat and dog had
eaten all the meat, so mistress gave some to Guy
to take to the little kitty. But she was afraid of
him and would not come near, although she seemed
very hungry. So Guy took a piece of the meat
and threw it to the kitty, at a little distance, and she
devoured it most greedily. Then he threw another
piece not quite so far, and she came and got that.
By throwing each piece a shorter distance, the
kitty at last came close enough to Guy to take it
out of his hand.</p>
<p>While Guy was feeding the kitty he inquired of
a little boy in the next yard if he knew to whom
the dog and cats belonged.</p>
<p>“The yellow ones belong to us,” said the boy,
“and the little kitty has no home at all; she belonged
to the people that moved away.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span></p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_140_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_140_facing.jpg" alt="The Two Were Holding a Friendly Talk in the Garden">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Two Were Holding a Friendly Talk in the Garden</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>At this mistress went quickly down the stairs,
and when I next saw her, she had captured the
timorous creature, and the two were holding a
friendly chat in the garden. After that Guy made
the little waif a comfortable bed in the basement,
and mistress gave her the name of “Daisy,” while
Guy named the yellow cat “Buttercup.”</p>
<p>Maple Road down our way was richly blessed
with children in those days, so much so that the
boys called it “Youngsters’ Boulevard.” And they
were all such dear children.</p>
<p>On our right was Charlie Watt, and on our left
were the Moody children, Marie, Anita, Madeline
and Charlie. On the opposite side of the street
were Florence and Lee Harrison, and a little way
down the street were our friends Don and Winifred,
whose pictures we had often seen above the bookcase.</p>
<p>Often when mistress went over to Winifred’s
house, Toddy and I followed her, and we used to
play with Winifred and Katy—her dolly. Budge
is too bashful to go out in company, so he usually
stayed under the porch till we returned. I guess
this is why Guy called him the “Home Guard.”</p>
<p>Very often Winifred came to visit us. But she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>
never ran after us nor mauled us around as children
are so apt to do. She would sit down on our cushion
and wait till we went and sat by her side. This is
why we all like her so well. If all children would
do this, it would be much more pleasant for us to
live with them.</p>
<p>I cannot tell you how much I would like to see
Jack and Dennis, but since I have found so many
lovely friends in our new home, I don’t miss them
as much as I did at first.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXI<br>
<small>OUR WINGED FRIENDS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">We</span> soon discovered that cats and dogs were not
our only new neighbors on Maple Road, for one
morning early we noticed a pair of robins flitting
around the upper piazza. It was plain that they
had come to stay for a while at least, for they were
building a nest among the vines, and they had it
nearly completed. The nest was about half-way
between the two posts. If it had only been at the
post, we cats could have seen what was inside of it.</p>
<p>Two little red-breasted robins were flying back and
forth, fetching all sorts of things in their beaks;
straw and strings and moss and grass, which they
twined around in the most curious fashion. One
would step inside and pat it down with his breast,
while the other went after more stuff. At one time
one of them brought a black rag, which they both
looked at, and chattered over a great deal, but evidently
concluded not to use for they dropped it
on the ground. Then, in her endeavor to help the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>
robins mistress carried out a loose wad of cut
worsted and placed it near the nest, but they did
not make use of that either. Evidently they knew
what they needed better than anybody else, in the
building of their little home.</p>
<p>A day or two after the nest was finished, Guy
stepped on a chair and looked inside, and found
one little blue egg in it. After this mistress and
Guy were very careful not to go on the piazza
while the robins were in the nest, for fear they
would be frightened, and would desert their
eggs.</p>
<p>About three days later Guy looked again into
the nest, and saw two eggs in it; and a week later
when he looked again, there were four.</p>
<p>After the four eggs were laid, one of the robins
stayed on the nest nearly all the time, the other
one coming many times during the day, always
bringing his mate something to eat. Mistress named
them Robert and Rena.</p>
<p>We cats wanted to go out on the piazza the
worst way during those days, but the door was
always shut.</p>
<p>Sometimes when both robins were away, mistress
or Guy would go on the piazza and scatter bread<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>
crumbs, but the naughty little sparrows would
come and take them away from the robins.</p>
<p>It was very hard for me to be a good cat in those
days, especially when mistress would be standing
inside the screen door, and Robert on the flower
box answering her call. She would say “Pretty
Robbie” and he would say, “Take care”—I suppose
he meant by that she should take care not to let
any harm come to his little mate. But just as soon
as mistress opened the door, he would fly on the
neighboring roof and scold very hard till she shut
the door again.</p>
<p>Sometimes when I sat on the window-sill behind
the glass pane, Robert would come just as close to
me as he could, talking bird-talk to me. I think
he said: “You can’t catch me,” for he seemed to
think the screen or the window-pane made the
porch railing a very safe place for him.</p>
<p>Robert and Rena seemed to have it all understood
between them how their housekeeping was to
be managed. Robert continued very faithfully to
bring food to Rena, and occasionally she would fly
out for a little exercise, Robert staying in the nest
till she returned.</p>
<p>After a time we began to hear very queer sounds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>
coming from the piazza, and a great commotion
seemed to be going on in the little nest. Tiny
beaks could be seen, reaching above the edge, and
Papa Robert seemed to be busier than ever. He
would bring so much food at a time that the worms
and insects could be seen dangling on each side of
his beak. Sometimes he gave it to Rena, and she
would chew it up and drop a portion into each little
beak while he went off for more; and sometimes
he would feed the little ones himself.</p>
<p>They say that accidents happen even in the best
regulated households, so it’s not surprising that they
came near having one in Robert’s family. I was
sitting on the window-sill, and Rena was standing
on the flower box chatting with mistress who stood
just inside the door. The screen door happened to
be unfastened and Toddy forced it open without
mistress noticing it. So swiftly did he dart upon
the flower box, that he nearly toppled over, and
poor Rena just barely escaped his claws.</p>
<p>As soon as Rena reached a safe distance in the
maple tree, she turned to Toddy and gave him a
dreadful scolding. “You ugly cat,” said she,
“aren’t you ashamed to think of robbing my poor
little babies of their mother? You are more cruel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>
than the horrid huntermen who shoot poor birds
with their guns; because they wouldn’t think of
coming in babytime.” Toddy was evidently very
much ashamed, for he sneaked into the house and
went straight to his basket, and didn’t show his face
again that day.</p>
<p>If I had had Toddy’s chance of getting out onto
the porch, I should have done quite differently. I
would have climbed up on the wire netting and the
vines to the nest where the little birdies were, because
they couldn’t fly away. Oh, what a feast that
would have been—four birds, one after the other.
It sets my teeth on edge to think of it.</p>
<p>One afternoon, when both the robins happened
to be away, mistress went on the piazza to await
their return.</p>
<p>Rena came first, and perched on the neighboring
housetop, chatting with mistress, although I think
it sounded more as if she were scolding. Gradually
she came nearer the piazza, and finally perched on
the vines opposite the nest. But although her poor
little babies cried most piteously, she would not go
near them. But when mistress went into the
house, hardly had she shut the door, when Rena
flew to the nest and began feeding her babies.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>That evening a gentleman called upon Aunt
Minnie, who was visiting us, and Mistress told him
about the queer conduct of Rena.</p>
<p>“That’s easily explained,” said the gentleman:
“Robins are noted for concealing their young,
although they will build their nests in the most frequented
places. If you will take notice after the
young are hatched, there will not be a sign of the
shells lying around, neither will you find any in the
nest after they leave, for they carry them all away.”</p>
<p>“Do you think they will come again next year?”
inquired mistress.</p>
<p>“They may if left to themselves, and their nest
not tampered with in the meantime,” said the gentleman.</p>
<p>It was not many days before it became evident
that the birdies were outgrowing their little home.
Before their wings were well covered with feathers,
they could be seen stretching them at full length,
and fluttering over the nest, and one day when
both Robert and Rena were out, Guy teased his
mother to let him look into the nest. Mistress
consented, so he took a chair out unto the piazza;
but unfortunately the screen door slipped from his
grasp and closed with a very loud noise. This so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>
frightened the birdies that a regular struggle began
in the little nest, and one was forced out over the
side. The poor thing spread his little bare wings
and tried to fly, but it was a desperate effort, and
after fluttering aimlessly about, he finally landed on
Buttercup’s porch. Both mistress and Guy went
down in great haste to get him, but the little truant
would not be caught, and his wings seemed to be
gaining strength with every second of exercise.
He fluttered across the street, and hovered around
on the lawn, till finally Mr. Harrison picked him
up and put him in a tree, and there Robert and
Rena found him and took care of him. I watched
him from the window-sill, and I couldn’t help having
some thoughts that are hardly proper for a
good cat.</p>
<p>By the time mistress returned to the piazza, every
one of the robins had left the nest, and we cats
saw them no more.</p>
<p>Mistress gave many anxious sighs during that
afternoon, and Guy tried to comfort her as best he
could. “If God takes care of the sparrows,” said
he, “don’t you suppose He will also take care of
the robins?”</p>
<p>Mistress did not speak for some moments, then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>
she said: “Well, my boy, some day you will be
leaving your home just as the birdies left theirs to-day,
and dangers will surround you. Then my dear,
may you lean hard on the Book wherein you read
that God takes care of the sparrows.”</p>
<p>I am very glad I have had a chance to get
acquainted with the robins, and I hope next spring
they will come to us again.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXII<br>
<small>NEW NEIGHBORS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the rear of our yard there was a very tall
fence post with a flat top, and on it I loved to
sit in the sun and watch the chickens in the adjoining
yard.</p>
<p>Near the chicken-coop was a kennel wherein
lived Napoleon, a black shepherd dog, whom they
called “Nap” for short. When I first knew Nap
he was chained almost constantly, and often for
days at a time he was without food or water. His
howls and cries were pitiful, and all the neighbors
talked about what an outrage it was to treat a dog
so mean. One day our mistress called Nap’s
mistress over to the fence and engaged her in a
friendly talk, and after a while she asked why Nap
was always chained. The lady said it was because
her husband considered him a very valuable dog,
and did not wish to lose him.</p>
<p>“Have you ever tried to bind him to his home
with love and affection?” said mistress. “I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>
found in my experience with animals that it will
forge a chain far stronger than iron.”</p>
<p>The lady said she would speak to her husband,
and I am sure she has, for after that Nap had his
meals more regularly, and he was free to roam
where he pleased; and he proved himself very
useful to the old hens in helping to keep strange
cats out of the yard, while their chicks were small.</p>
<p>One Sunday morning when mistress was out
in the yard with us, Nap came over to our fence
barking for joy, and peeping in at us between the
pickets. He seemed so happy to be at liberty.
Mistress had brought a lunch out for us, and she
offered him some of the meat, which he devoured
greedily. I was glad to share my breakfast with
him, for having known Dennis so long, I cannot
help feeling very friendly toward all dogs.</p>
<p>But Budge and Toddy evidently did not care to
share their meat with Nap, so they did what cats
often do when they meet with an unpleasant surprise;
they sang a song. Budge’s voice is a baritone,
Toddy’s a tenor and mine a soprano. But I
did not join them on this occasion.</p>
<p>I suppose you have often listened to cat concerts,
and perhaps you have wondered why cats’ music is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>
always so sad and doleful. The reason for this is
that cats sing only when they are sad or in trouble,
when they are contented and happy, they purr.</p>
<p>As soon as the song was ended, Napoleon began
to whine, and thrust his nose between the pickets
again. I think he wanted more song, but Toddy
evidently thought he wanted more breakfast, for
the moment his nose was well through between the
pickets, Toddy made a lunge for it, and this proved
to be Napoleon’s Waterloo. Before he could
withdraw, his nose was a perfect network of
scratches, with blood oozing out of them like so
many small beads.</p>
<p>After Napoleon had retreated, mistress called us
into the house, but in the afternoon I went out
there again and jumped over on Nap’s side of the
fence into the tall grass. But the old speckled hen
drove me back with her cackle as she had often
done before. She probably thought I was another
naughty cat like Buttercup who stole her chickies;
but, really, I was only looking for grasshoppers.
Now, although I am not much acquainted with
Napoleon, I have given him a place in my book,
because I want my readers to stop and think how
cruel it is to keep a dog chained all the time, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>
to leave him without his regular supply of food and
water.</p>
<p>I will now tell you about Bunny, a little Manx
cat that came to our house every evening at supper-time.
She did not offer to stay only just long
enough to get something to eat. Guy named her
“Bunny” because she has only a little stump of a
tail, and when running she would raise her back
just like a rabbit. I think Bunny must have come
from the same country that Jack did, for she was
the same kind of a cat, only she was gray, just like
Budge. In fact she resembled Budge so much that
we were all horrified the first time we saw her.
We thought it was Budge himself, and that some
one had cut off his tail.</p>
<p>But while Toddy and I were busy smelling of the
stranger, and mistress was bewailing the sad fate
of her pet, in walked Budge, tail and all, carrying in
his mouth a dead sparrow, which he laid at mistress’
feet with a great deal of pride. Then Toddy
and I left off examining Bunny and turned our attention
to the bird.</p>
<p>Mistress often used to say she wondered where
Bunny got the rest of her meals, and where she
kept herself; so one evening after Bunny had eaten<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>
her supper, Guy and I followed her; and what do
you suppose we found? We traced Bunny into a
vacant lot, and there under some shrubs was a little
cave, dug into a bank of autumn leaves. This was
Bunny’s home, and in it she had living with her five
as chipper and lively little Manx cats as one could
wish to see. Guy interested Don and Teddie in
the little Bunnies, and the two boys brought them
food mornings and noons; so that thereafter they
had three square meals a day. The boys also
found good homes for them as soon as they were
old enough to leave their mother.</p>
<p>In the rear part of Mrs. Watt’s yard the grass is
allowed to stand all summer so it becomes very tall.
It was just a capital place for us cats to play hide-and-go-seek,
and to catch grasshoppers. I heard
mistress say to Charlie one day that she wondered
what we cats found to interest us so much in his
back yard; so I thought I would show her. The
following Sunday, when she sat on the piazza, I
carried a hopper up-stairs and laid him down at her
feet. She was busy reading and did not notice him
at once; but when he began flying around and I
after him, she laid her book down and watched us.
After the hopper had landed on the floor several<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>
times, and I had had several rounds with him, he
seemed pretty well tired out, and remained still for
a few moments. Mistress picked him up, and seeing
he was not the least bit injured, she placed him
on the vines, which was very nice for the hopper,
but rather cruel to me, I thought. But nothing
daunted, I went down-stairs and fetched another
one. As I laid him on the floor mistress seemed
horrified, for she thought I had mutilated him carrying
him so far. She had not known up to this time
where the first one came from. She was just
reaching out to take my treasure from me, when
Mr. Hopper flew toward the ceiling, which led her
to conclude that he must be all right, and she did
not interfere with me any further. Thus during
the warm summer weather I had many pleasant
times with my little playfellow, the grasshopper.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXIII<br>
<small>OUR SUMMER OUTING</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the time came again for mistress and Guy
to take their outing, they were quite puzzled what
to do with so many cats.</p>
<p>“It was easy enough,” said mistress, “to take
one cat when we traveled by boat, and went to
grandpa’s. But three cats, and traveling on
wheels, and stopping at hotels, is quite a different
thing.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you can make an arrangement with
Charlie Watt to take care of them,” said Guy.</p>
<p>Mrs. Watt was sitting on her veranda, and before
mistress went away that morning, she went
over and asked whether Charlie could take care of
us during her absence; and as Charlie was present
and said he would be delighted to do it, his mother
assented.</p>
<p>I was very thankful, for Charlie and his mother
had always been very kind to us.</p>
<p>Soon after that, one morning, two gentlemen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>
called, and mistress and Guy rode away with them.
Our basket and plate had been placed in Mrs.
Watt’s kitchen, and Charlie fixed us a very nice
meal at dinner-time, and we played with the grasshoppers
in his yard, so the first day went off all
right.</p>
<p>But the very next day we saw what threatened
to destroy our peace of mind at Charlie Watt’s. His
neighbor had a great fat pug dog, who acted very
ungentlemanly from the first, and tried his best to
frighten us, peeping between the fence pickets and
barking as loud as he could. That very morning
the grocer had left our gate open, and Pug who had
been watching for such a chance, came in, snorting
with rage. It was clearly a declaration of war; but
to my great surprise, Budge, who is usually very
timid, was the first to take up arms against the
enemy. With the most artistic curve in his back,
and bristling his tail to suit the occasion, he started
out, single-handed and alone. Of course, Toddy
and I were not slow to follow such a courageous
leader, and for a time the peaceful yard resembled
a torrid race-track, with Pug in the lead and myself
on the home-stretch.</p>
<p>As round after round took a little wider range,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>
Pug was nearing the corner where the ash pile is
located, and stumbling over a tin can, he fell to the
ground, and we three on top of him. Being such
a fat fellow, he was much more easily exhausted
than we, who are lithe and agile; and once down,
surrounded as he was, his defeat was complete.
Nothing remained but an ignominious surrender.
He crouched like the coward that he was, begging
for mercy. But we did not let him off until we
had thoroughly humbled him, chasing him back
several times when he attempted to go, and that was
the last difficulty we ever had with Pug.</p>
<p>One night during mistress’ absence, we heard a
terrible noise, and the next morning Buttercup’s
mangled and bleeding body lay in our front yard.
It was said that a dog had done the awful deed.</p>
<p>But the cat population was not diminished by
Buttercup’s sudden taking off, for on that very same
morning, Daisy had a little spreckled kitty in her
basket—only one. But that was enough for poor
little Daisy to take care of, for she had a rattle in
her throat, which Dr. Smith called “consumption.”
I think that is why Daisy was not invited to go
with us to Mrs. Watt’s. But Charlie gave her food
and water daily at the basement window, and after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>
Buttercup was gone, she had her own little kitten
to keep her company.</p>
<p>We were just enjoying our vacation very nicely,
when one morning Budge disappeared, and that
night we could not find him anywhere, although
we could hear his doleful cry coming from some
place, no one knew just where. I tremble to think
what would have become of poor Budge, if mistress
hadn’t come home in time to save him.</p>
<p>Late the next afternoon she and Guy rode up to
the curb. I was lying on the grass, and Toddy was
in the hammock with Charlie.</p>
<p>As soon as I heard mistress’ voice, I rushed out
to meet her, and she picked me up and petted me,
and said how glad she was to get home again.
Then Mrs. Watt told her the distressing news that
Budge had not been seen for two days. As soon
as Guy reached his room up-stairs, he heard a
muffled “meow” coming out of the wall, and in
reply to his name Budge answered “meow,”
“meow.” In the cellar his voice could be heard
very plainly, so mistress went there and tried to
coax him down with a piece of raw beefsteak. He
was just above the studding; having taken fright
at something, and crawled up between the boards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>
of the inside and outside wall, to the second
story.</p>
<p>After trying for several hours to coax him down,
mistress went at ten o’clock at night to get a carpenter
to open the wall. The good man had already
gone to bed, but he arose and came with
mistress. He pried away a base board in Guy’s
room, and Budge stuck his head through the opening,
and mistress pulled him out. Toddy and I
were very glad to have our companion with us
again, and I hope another time Budge will know
enough to run up a tree, instead of getting himself
into such a predicament.</p>
<p>The day before mistress came home, a water
spaniel puppy arrived from the country, that had
been sent to Charlie as a present. He looked just
like Dennis, and I hoped he would grow to be as
good and wise a dog; but it was not to be so, for he
only lived a few days after he came. They named
him “Brownie.” So innocent and unsuspecting was
he, he would walk right up to us cats and kiss our
noses. If he had been a big handsome dog like
Dennis, we would not have objected so much. But
lady cats don’t care to be kissed by silly little puppy
dogs. But no matter how many times Toddy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>
scratched his face, Brownie was so forgiving; the
very next minute he would go up to him again. As
for Budge, whenever Brownie came near him, he
growled so deep down in his throat that once mistress
actually looked up into the sky and asked
Guy whether he heard that thundering, and Brownie
did not venture any farther. After getting several
more scratches and a good many taps, he finally
stayed away from Toddy. But he came to me
whenever he wanted to, and I tried to teach them
by my example that a little innocent, harmless
puppy is not to be treated like a big, saucy, ferocious
dog.</p>
<p>If Brownie had not disobeyed his mistress I
think he would be with us still; but the day after
we returned home he came into our yard between
the fence pickets and helped himself to a dinner
that was intended for three cats, a little more than
a puppy dog ought to attempt at a single meal.
But Brownie evidently thought himself equal to it,
and when he went away, our plate was empty. He
could not go back the way he came, but had to go
around the house and through the gate. That was
Brownie’s last visit to us, for that same evening,
after suffering dreadful agonies in spite of all that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>
mistress and Mrs. Watt did for him, poor Brownie
lay down on the lawn and died.</p>
<p>I couldn’t help thinking of poor Dappledun, of
whom it is written:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“He ran in clover up to his knees,</div>
<div class="indent">His trough was filled with stuff;</div>
<div class="verse">Yet he’d jump the neighbor’s fence, and act</div>
<div class="indent">As if he hadn’t enough.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“If only he could have been content</div>
<div class="indent">With his feed of oats and hay,</div>
<div class="verse">Poor headstrong, foolish Dappledun</div>
<div class="indent">Had been alive to-day.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“But one night when the rack was filled</div>
<div class="indent">With what he ought to eat,</div>
<div class="verse">He thrust his nose out of his stall,</div>
<div class="indent">And into a bin of wheat.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“And there he ate, and ate, and ate,</div>
<div class="indent">And when he reached the tank</div>
<div class="verse">Where Johnny watered him next morn,</div>
<div class="indent">He drank, and drank, and drank.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“And when that night John carried him</div>
<div class="indent">The sweet hay from the rick,</div>
<div class="verse">He lay and groaned, and groaned, and groaned,</div>
<div class="indent">For Dappledun was sick.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“And when another morning came</div>
<div class="indent">And John rose from his bed,</div>
<div class="verse">And went to water Dappledun,</div>
<div class="indent">Poor Dappledun was dead!”</div>
</div></div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>Early the following morning I saw Mr. Watt
carry the little stiff body out to the rear part of the
yard, where he dug a deep, dark hole. There he
planted Brownie just as the rays of the rising sun
were gleaming over the housetop; and it seemed
as though even the proud and stately hollyhocks
were bending their heads in sorrow over our young
friend’s untimely taking off.</p>
<p>So you see we had all sorts of experiences during
our summer vacation.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXIV<br>
<small>RAISING A FAMILY</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Very</span> soon after we had gone to Maple Road to
live, one night a lot of little kittens came into my
basket; I suppose the kind Providence had sent
them, for it was not yet time for Santa Claus to be
around again. The little things squirmed and
whined most pitifully, and I covered them with my
body to keep them warm.</p>
<p>As soon as it was daylight I took a look at my
visitors, and there, behold, were six little blind,
helpless creatures, two tigers, two Maltese and two
black. “What will my mistress say,” thought I,
“when she sees this?” I must confess I awaited
her coming with some misgiving, fearing very much
that she would be displeased.</p>
<p>When mistress opened the door in the morning
I arose and went to meet her as usual, and I apologized
as best I could; but she did not even seem
surprised. She petted me just as she was wont to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>
do, or if anything even more fondly, and my saucer
of milk that morning tasted as if it was more than
half cream. While I was eating my breakfast,
Guy came out, and together they examined my
kittens, and praised them. “Aren’t they beauts,”
said he, as he fondled one after the other; “I wish
we could keep them all.”</p>
<p>After breakfast mistress lifted the pad with my
kittens out of the basket and made us up a fresh
clean bed with an old comfortable, which was large
enough to fall over the rim of the basket, and so
prevented any draughts from striking my little
ones. Then for many days mistress brought my
food and water to me, for with so many kittens I
was busy every minute washing them to keep them
sweet and clean.</p>
<p>At the end of about ten days my kittens began
to open their eyes; and to be able to crawl over
each other, and over me as well. One by one, as
their eyesight became stronger, they would crawl
up on the comfortable and look over the edge of
the basket; and very often one would step over a
little too far, lose his balance and tumble over unto
the floor. Then after a few minutes of groping
around he would begin to cry, and I had to go and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>
bring him back, unless Guy or mistress happened
to be there.</p>
<p>One day I heard mistress say to Guy: “These
kittens seem to be strong in their bodies but
weak in their limbs, they topple over when they
attempt to walk.”</p>
<p>“They need to exercise their limbs more,” said
Guy. “They ought to have a larger place to move
around in.”</p>
<p>Then mistress spread an old comfortable on the
floor in a sheltered corner of her room, and placed
a market-basket in the middle of it, in the bottom
of which was a bag full of stones to keep it from
falling over when the kittens should climb up on
the side of it. Mistress then put the kittens on the
comfortable, and in an instant they began hobbling
around and in and out of the basket. I lay on the
comfortable with them, and watched them with great
pleasure. Whenever one got far enough away
from the “gym” (as Guy called the basket) to feel
lonesome, he would whine; but at my call would
follow the direction of my voice, and promptly return.
By degrees they became so independent that
they would walk clear to the edge of the thick
comfortable, tumble over the “embankment,” and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>
meander off at their own sweet will; and so they
grew daily stronger.</p>
<p>One pleasant Sunday when mistress and Guy
were at home, the comfortable was spread on the
garden lawn, with the basket upon it as usual. At
first I protested most seriously against this innovation,
and started to take my kittens back to their
accustomed place in the house. But they had
grown so large, it was impossible for me to carry
them up the steps, and I had to let them stay. I
soon found, however, that the radiant sunshine was
as a tonic to them, filling them with joy and
strength and courage, and before the afternoon was
gone, I had become well pleased with the change.</p>
<p>Just as soon as the sunshine disappeared, Guy
put the kittens into the basket and carried them
back into the house, and after that I never objected
when they were given an outing.</p>
<p>Oh, how very happy I was in those days, with
my little ones basking around me in the beautiful
sunshine, for even in the house mistress always saw
to it that our comfortable was in a sunny place.
The basket became the scene of most wonderful
activity. Guy said it was horizontal bar, side
horse, long horse and race-track all in one; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>
here were performed some remarkable acrobatic
feats, all of which served to make my little ones
strong and steady. Of course I was very busy
training them in various ways, and first of all I took
great care to teach them clean and orderly habits.
In this respect mistress was always very helpful, for
she left each day a little box of fresh earth beside
my basket, and whenever she saw one hunt around
and get into a corner, she would go after him and
set him into the box, and very soon they understood
what it was there for.</p>
<p>As soon as they were old enough I tried to teach
them to lap milk with me from the saucer, and this
proved to be the hardest task of all. They seemed
to get the milk all up into their noses, instead of on
their tongues, and it was a veritable sneezing bee.
Then again some seemed to think that the saucer
was a bath tub. Topsy, one of the black ones,
walked deliberately into the dish, and when in the
middle of it, sat down and took a sitz bath. Guy
said he guessed she wanted to change her complexion.
But in a few moments she landed safely
on the other side. Meow Junior, one of the tigers,
was satisfied to merely face about and dip his tail
into the milk, much to the disgust of the rest. But in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>
a few days they had learned to lap milk very nicely,
and I thought it was time to take the next step in
their education; so I carried my piece of beef to
them, to teach them how to chew something solid.</p>
<p>When mistress saw it she was quite alarmed, and
promptly took the meat away. But I persisted,
fetching it back several times, till finally she let me
have my way, saying that a mother was the best
judge of what was good for her children. Then
seeing that only one could get access to the piece,
because he would growl so fiercely as to frighten
the others away, she gave a piece of meat to each
one. Of course, they could not chew very much
as yet, and the pieces were too large to swallow
whole, but it was excellent exercise for their jaws
and teeth, and a pleasant pastime as well.</p>
<p>On the first day that my kittens began to feed
from a dish, they also began to practice at washing
themselves, and it was a winsome sight to watch
their earnest endeavors to do their very best. I was
so thankful that mistress did not forget to keep a
saucer of water in a convenient place for them.
Then, having made their toilet, usually they would
lie down in groups of two, or three, and take their
after dinner nap.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>One day when I was on mistress’ bed with my
kittens, Guy laid his hat down by us, and Topsy
went over and lay on the crown of it. It being a
soft felt, her weight caused the crown to cave in,
but this seemed to suit Topsy all the better. She
settled down contentedly in the little round box
and began to purr so loudly as to attract the attention
of the other kittens. Meow Junior, seeing
that Topsy had found such a good thing, concluded
to join her; and so one by one they all deserted
me, and meandered in the direction of the hat.
When I looked up, to my great amusement the
five kittens were lying in a circle on the rim with
Topsy in the middle, and the hat had the appearance
of being trimmed with cats.</p>
<p>In telling this incident I hope I shall not set any
one to thinking that kittens would make suitable
ornaments instead of the poor unhappy birds that
do such melancholy duty on some ladies’ hats.</p>
<p>Thus for many weeks I devoted myself so constantly
to my little ones that mistress called me
“the good little mother.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXV<br>
<small>BREAKING HOME TIES</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was with the greatest pleasure that I gave
myself to the care of my babies; and oh, with what
pride I watched their progress from day to day, and
how very happy I felt when at my call they would
cease their playing and come and rest on my
bosom. But, sad to tell, to every mother there
comes a cruel and relentless day, when her darlings
are taken from her. When that day has come
and she mourns in her loneliness and sorrow, her
only comfort then is the thought that she has so
trained her little ones that they will be a pleasure
and a joy to the people with whom they live. I
know that this is what my dear mother endeavored
to do for me, and the same I tried to do for mine.</p>
<p>My kitties were about three months old, when
one day Miss Dorothy called. Mistress called her
“Mrs. Fogg,” but to me she will ever be only my
dear Miss Dorothy.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>She had a bunch of delicious English violets at
her waist, and as she held me on her lap I became
so intoxicated with their fragrance that unwittingly
I bit off a few of them. When Miss Dorothy discovered
that I liked them she gave me the whole
bunch, and, oh! what a feast! They were the first
I had had since Aunt Minnie visited us; and by
the way I must tell you about that. We cats are
very glad when Aunt Minnie comes, because then
somebody always sends such beautiful flowers to
the house. The last time they happened to be
English violets, and, of course, we went up to the
vase to look at them and to smell of them. Such
beautiful violets! Their fragrance filled the entire
room.</p>
<p>After dinner when Guy and Aunt Minnie came
into the library, I heard her say “What’s the matter
with these violets? Nothing is left of them but
the bare stems.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be jiggered,” said Guy. “I don’t know
where you’ll find them unless it’s inside of those
cats.” Just then the door bell rang and Aunt
Minnie’s friend came in. When they told him
about the sad fate of the violets he laughed
heartily, and said they would stop and get some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>
more on the way to the concert. So I fear that
the violets were not intended for our dinner.</p>
<p>But to return to Miss Dorothy; it was a beautiful
day, and mistress brought her into the garden
where my kittens were gathered around their big
saucer. As each one finished he sat down and
gave himself a good washing. Then they gave a
quite noteworthy performance of acrobatic skill on
the gym: some taking possession of the horizontal
bar, while others scaled the walls, or ran a race on
the edge.</p>
<p>I think I was the only one in the entire company
that was not perfectly happy that afternoon,
for I half-suspected what Miss Dorothy had come
for. She carried a very suspicious looking basket
with a cover on it; and sure enough, when she prepared
to take leave, mistress picked up my two little
tigers and carried them into the house, and in a
few minutes I heard the carriage roll away. That
was the last I saw of my little tigers. Oh, how my
heart ached; and yet I knew perfectly well what a
happy home they would have. What must a
mother’s feelings be who has to see her babies
taken away from her without this blessed assurance?</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>It was not long after Miss Dorothy’s visit, when
late one evening I missed Topsy, and Jasper one
of the Maltese. After searching for them in every
place I could think of, I finally gave up in despair;
but on the following morning I heard a very
familiar sound coming from the next yard. I
mounted the fence, and looking over there I saw
my kittens basking in the sunshine on a big rug in
Mrs. Moody’s yard. My first thought was to go
and fetch them back; but the fence was very high,
and the kittens were quite heavy; I had to give it
up. There was one thing that worried me: Mrs.
Moody’s dog Jip is a very saucy fellow; I did not
know how he would treat my babies, and I kept a
pretty close watch on him. But one day I saw him
lying on the rug with Topsy between his paws, and
Jasper on his shoulders, and after that I could
no longer entertain any unkind thoughts of Jip.</p>
<p>A few days after this, Teddy called with his little
sister Dorothy, a sweet little girl with beautiful
flaxen curls. They played with my kittens for a
long time, telling each other which they liked best;
and as they had brought a big covered basket with
them I rather surmised what they had come for.
In fact I have learned to heartily dislike people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>
who go around carrying covered baskets. But I
knew that I could not keep my babies much longer,
so I just tried to be brave, and resigned to my fate.
Teddy said he liked the black one, but Dorothy
preferred the Maltese.</p>
<p>“What are you going to call them, Teddy?”
said mistress.</p>
<p>“I shall call them Punch and Judy, or some
names that fit together like that,” answered Teddy.</p>
<p>“But how will it be next summer, when you go
to the Lake Shore?”</p>
<p>“We will have some one take care of them while
we are gone,” said Dorothy.</p>
<p>This satisfied mistress, and she told them they
could have the kittens.</p>
<p>Then I went out to see if I couldn’t find another
mousie for them, and after long waiting at a neighboring
ash pile I finally captured one, and I
hastened to bring my babies this last offering. But
when I reached the garden I found my basket
empty, and the old comfortable that had been our
rallying place, deserted. The dreaded hour had
come; I was a broken-hearted mother, bereft of all
my little ones. I cared nothing more for the mousie
so I let it go. Of course, I cried, and searched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>
every nook and corner on the premises before
giving up my last hope. When at last I entered
the house, mistress took me up very tenderly and
spoke comforting words to me, and that night for
the first time in many weeks I slept again at the
foot of her bed.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXVI<br>
<small>A FRIENDLY CHAT</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Budge</span> has a habit of sitting on all fours with his
paws curled under, his tail drawn tightly around his
body, and his eyes half closed; and whenever Guy
sees him in that position he says “behold the
Sphinx.”</p>
<p>One summer evening when we three were out on
the piazza, I asked Budge what his thoughts were
on such occasions. “Generally about dogs,” said
he. “I have been trying for a long time to think
what dogs are good for anyhow, and as I can’t
think of a single thing, I wonder why there should
be any dogs in the world at all.”</p>
<p>I told Budge he must not judge all dogs by these
saucy curs that come into our yard to eat up our
dinner and bark at us. Said I: “Have you never
heard of Owney, the Postal dog, that has traveled
all over this country, bringing joy and good cheer
to the hearts of the poor toiling men that work on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>
the cars? Or of Mose, that lived for many years
in an engine-house, and attended every fire, cheering
on the horses and the men, and no doubt helping
to save many lives? Or of Barri, the noble
St. Bernard, that saved the lives of more than forty
travelers who were buried beneath the snow? Or,
have you forgotten our dear friend Dennis, that
used to protect us from the attacks of fierce dogs
when we were small kittens on Poplar Avenue?”</p>
<p>“I never heard of Mose or Owney or Barri,” said
Budge. “I wish you would tell us more about
them.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said I, “those were high-minded and
noble animals, and useful in their day and generation.”</p>
<p>“That’s just what I want to be too,” said Budge.</p>
<p>“And so do I,” said Toddy. “But aren’t there
any noble and useful cats in the world?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said I: “I can mention the names of cats
as well as dogs for your example: Toots Willard,
for instance, who contributed over $20.00 towards
the temperance cause from the sale of his photographs,
and who writes letters to the Union Signal,
urging and encouraging his comrades to support
the good work; Meow, my namesake, who was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>
such a joy and comfort to grandpa for seven years;
and Blackie and Jack, the famous rat-catchers.”</p>
<p>“Now that you mention it,” said Budge, “I am
reminded that there are many useful and valuable
cats who have not even a name to be remembered
by. Only a few days ago a lady who works in a
commission house, told our mistress that they have
fourteen cats in their place, and that indeed without
them they could not carry on their business, for the
rats and mice would ruin everything if the cats didn’t
drive them away.” Here Toddy took the word:</p>
<p>“This reminds me,” said he, “of a story I once
heard about a man who owned a warehouse, and
who had four sons. In the warehouse lived a big
Maltese cat named Jimmie, whose favorite resting-place
was on top of the bookkeeper’s desk, where
he was wont to take his daily nap. In course of
time the father died, and the four sons divided the
warehouse between them. They also divided the
cat so that each one knew which quarter of Jimmie
belonged to him. One day soon after the division
the cat was bitten in the right foreleg by a rat he
had caught, and as that quarter of the cat belonged
to Paul, the youngest son, he bandaged it and
saturated the bandage with coal oil to take out the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>
pain. That day when Jimmie was napping on the
desk as usual, the bookkeeper laid down a lighted
cigar which rolled over toward Jimmie and ignited
the bandage. In an instant the poor creature was
enveloped in flames, and in his terrible anguish and
fright he ran up and down the warehouse, so that
it was set on fire, causing great damage. When all
was over the brothers had a meeting, and the three
agreed that as Paul’s quarter of the cat had done the
damage, he ought to pay them for their loss. This
Paul refused to do, and as they could not agree, the
four brothers then went before a judge; and how do
you suppose the judge settled it? He said it was
Jimmie’s three well legs that had enabled him to
run around the warehouse and scatter the fire, and
not his sore one at all. And so instead of Paul paying
his brothers for their loss, they had to pay Paul
for his. As for poor Jimmie, he died at his post of
duty a victim to man’s heedlessness.”</p>
<p>Another brave cat did service on the Battleship
Texas in Santiago Bay, and I heard mistress read
one evening how he stayed on the deck with the
soldiers while the Spanish bullets went whizzing
around him, and when every dog had gone whining
and howling down to the bottom of the ship.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>On the same occasion mistress read another piece
which she cut out, saying it would be a good thing
for my story. It said:</p>
<p>“The largest student lodging house in Ithaca
burned last night. Mrs. Stilwell, the boarding-house
mistress, stated this morning that she believes
her life and the lives of all the occupants were
saved by a favorite cat which went mewing up and
down the halls. She awoke and spoke in a quieting
tone to the pet, but it would not remain quiet
and came into her room and pulled with its claws
on the bedclothes until she got up.”</p>
<p>Said I “All this only goes to prove that no matter
where you put a cat, whether on land or sea,
amid peril or safety, if given a fair chance he will
always fearlessly and honestly do his part.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Budge, taking on his sphinx-like
attitude, “and what a pity these last mentioned
heroes didn’t have names, so their memory could be
honored and cherished by future generations of
cats. But I am thankful we have such a wise cat
as you for a companion, and I for one shall try and
be a better and more useful cat hereafter.”</p>
<p>“I have already begun,” said Toddy: “don’t you
remember, Budge, the other day when you did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>
something very naughty in mistress’ room, I called
you to me on the window-sill and covered myself
over you so mistress could not find you? And
when she came in, she was so touched by my effort
to shield you from disgrace, that she did not punish
you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Budge, “and I helped you whip Pug,
when he came into Mrs. Watt’s yard?”</p>
<p>“You have both made a very good beginning,”
said I, “and if you keep on you will both leave a
good example for other cats to be proud of, just as
we take pride in these we have talked about.”</p>
<p>And now, although we are never even mentioned
in the books of the proud and highly favored
Angoras, still I will return good for evil and relate
here an incident which I heard mistress read in a
newspaper, of the valor of an Angora.</p>
<p>“I shook the paw of a remarkable Angora cat at
the veterinary hospital the other day. He was there
to recover from an attack of influenza, and looked
thin and gaunt, although his yellow tail was as erect
and as bushy as ever. It seems this feline is devoted
to a little poodle that is his constant companion.
Twice the poodle’s life has been endangered by big
dogs, and in each instance this otherwise gentle cat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>
has flown upon the foe and killed him. One would
scarcely believe this gracious yellow creature was
the slayer of two fierce bulldogs, but such is his
record.”</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXVII<br>
<small>ANOTHER HOME</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day soon after Brownie’s death Dorothy and
Teddy came over with Judy, their little Maltese
kitty, all nicely cuddled up in a covered basket, and
asked mistress if she would keep her till they returned
from the Lake Shore.</p>
<p>“You know we promised to have some one take
care of the kittens during our vacation,” said
Dorothy, “and we couldn’t think of anybody that
would do it better than you.”</p>
<p>Mistress seemed very much pleased at this. She
praised the children for remembering their promise
so well and told them that Judy might stay. Then
she added, “But who is going to take care of
Punch?”</p>
<p>“We intend to take him along,” said Teddy;
“we would take Judy too, but mamma thinks two
cats will be too much trouble.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” said mistress, “you must either take
both, or leave both. If they are separated so long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>
they will become estranged, and then they will no
longer live together peaceably.”</p>
<p>“Then you will have to keep Punch, too,” said
Dorothy.</p>
<p>“Rather than have them separated, I will do so,”
said mistress, “but you must bring their basket and
cushions, so they will have some familiar objects to
attract them to this place.”</p>
<p>So Teddy went home and fetched Punch and the
cat furniture, and while he was gone I had a little
chat with Judy. She did not remember me at
first, and acted quite saucy for a while. But when
I told her that I was her mother, and how I had
nursed her and Punch, and raised them to be the
handsome cats they were, she snuggled up to me
and said, “Oh, yes; now I remember: you used
to wash us, and bring us mousies to play with; and
I remember also the beautiful lullaby you used to
sing to us:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Rockaby, hushaby, Pussy, my dear,</div>
<div class="verse">The dogs are all chained and there’s nothing to fear!</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Oh, how we did want our dear mother that first
night in our new home! We just cried and cried
till we finally dropped asleep.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>When Teddy returned, mistress fixed up a cozy
corner for our little summer boarders, as she called
Punch and Judy, in the kitchen.</p>
<p>That same evening the landlord called on mistress,
and I heard him talk in a very upbraiding
way about so many cats on his premises; and
finally he said in a lofty and scornful tone: “You
must either get rid of them, or leave the house.”</p>
<p>On the very next evening the trunks and boxes
were brought down from the attic, and mistress and
Guy started to packing as if they were going on
another journey.</p>
<p>One morning a few days later we cats were all
taken to the attic, where we stayed for a long time.</p>
<p>I was just raising another family, and I wondered
what was going to be done with me. But soon
after lunch time mistress came with a large covered
wicker basket into which she put me with my
kittens on a nice soft pad. Peeping through the
cracks of the basket I could see her put Toddy,
Punch and Judy into the laundry bag, and when we
were all fixed up Guy came to fetch us down-stairs.
There I discovered the moving van, all
loaded, and Guy, who is very strong, mounted the
wagon with us. Budge had the honor of riding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>
a-wheel with mistress, tied securely into the
Switzerland bag.</p>
<p>And now methinks I hear some of you say “but
what became of poor sickly Daisy, and homeless
Bunny?” I am happy to tell you that before we
left our old home both were cared for; Daisy with
her little kitty went to the beautiful and happy land
where sickness never comes, and where there is a
home for every cat; and Bunny and her kittens
were all provided with good homes through the
kindness of their friends Don and Teddy.</p>
<p>It was a very short ride on the moving van to
our new home, and when we halted it was in front
of a beautiful white cottage with a spacious vine-covered
porch. Mistress met us at the door, and
we were taken into a quiet room where we found
some salmon already prepared for us on our own
plate. Budge was there, too, acting rather shy, and
going around smelling of everything with his mouth
wide open. But presently Guy brought our pads and
cushions from off the wagon and fixed up a comfortable
place for me and my babies first, and then
for the other cats.</p>
<p>For a time it was very noisy down below, and
Punch and Judy were terribly afraid; but after a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>
while Guy came up and took us outdoors and
showed us all around. The moving van had gone,
and mistress was putting the things in order.
Looking across the back fence I saw a big corn-field,
and some vacant lots, so I knew we should
not lack for play-room; and indeed we soon found
that the corn-field was an admirable place for a
game of hide-and-go-seek.</p>
<p>When we returned into the house mistress had
fitted up three nice comfortable corners for us in
the kitchen, one for Punch and Judy, one for Budge
and Toddy, and a nice big one for me and my
babies. In the library there was a window-seat
just like the one we had had on Poplar Avenue.</p>
<p>On the same day a young lady came whom mistress
called Bettie. We thought at first she was a
visitor, because she was so kind and gentle to us
cats. But we soon learned that she was the housekeeper.</p>
<p>I have heard it said that the reason so many
people leave their cats behind when they move into
another house is because they believe it brings bad
luck to move one.</p>
<p>It don’t seem to be so with our mistress; for
each time she has moved so far as I know she has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>
taken with her to the new house from three to
seven cats, and each time it has been to a finer and
bigger house than she had before. And now we
even have a housekeeper. I should think it is
more likely to be the other way: bad luck comes
to people who cruelly desert helpless and dependent
creatures and leave them unprovided for.</p>
<p>On the other hand, the notion prevails among
some people, as I have heard, that it is good luck
to have a cat follow you. Of course, it may be
presuming too much for a cat to give her opinion
so freely; but it seems to me that this good luck
will only come to people who will take a kind interest
in a poor stray, and who will try to find out
where she belongs, or else procure another home
for her.</p>
<p>Our new house was on Elmwood Place, and we
found to our great delight that our next door
neighbors were Miss Wallace, and her little Nellie
that she told us about that day on the boat.
Nellie is a white cat, but why this should make her
think she is any better than we colored cats, I cannot
understand. She would sit for hours on her
window-sill, and hump her back and hiss every time
one of us came in sight; so we very soon concluded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>
that as for Nellie we wouldn’t waste any
time trying to be neighborly.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_190_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_190_facing.jpg" alt="Toddy, Mrs. Smith’s Particular Friend">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">Toddy, Mrs. Smith’s Particular Friend</span>”</p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Our neighbor on the other side is a little King
Charles spaniel “Bosie,” which is short for
Bo-Peep. If we happened to be out when he took
his exercise he would nearly bark himself hoarse.
But we soon gave him to understand that he was
not big enough to scare us.</p>
<p>Across the street at Mrs. Smith’s lived “Patsy,”
a water spaniel, who always came over at meal-time.
If he had not been sold and taken away I
dare say mistress would have been obliged to
change the location of our dinner plate, for Patsy’s
nose would almost cover the entire dish, and when
he had eaten all he wanted there never was a
mouthful left. Still we were sorry to lose Patsy,
for he was more like dear old Dennis than any dog
I have ever seen.</p>
<p>After Patsy went away, Toddy became Mrs.
Smith’s particular friend. He told me he liked it
over there because of the beautiful porch, with its
plants and rugs and cushions; and also because
Mrs. Smith was always there; whereas our own
house seemed to be deserted all day long.</p>
<p>Punch and Judy were obliged to stay in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>
basement all day, because mistress feared they
might go away in search of their home. I really
don’t think it was necessary to keep them indoors
because they would stay where their basket is
when once they got used to the place; but, of
course, mistress did not want to take any chances.
Poor Punch and Judy! They complained bitterly
at having to be housed in during that beautiful,
sunshiny weather. We used to peep in at the
basement windows, and it was pitiful to see how
they would shift their position so as to get the full
benefit of the sun’s rays that for a little while during
each day meagerly brightened their gloomy
abode. To be sure, mistress left them a nice lunch
each day, and balls and spools to play with; and
she tied strings in various places to tempt them
into amusing themselves. But a homesick cat
does not care much for these things. We were all
right glad when Teddy came to take them back to
their home, and I hope that hereafter when they go
to the Lake Shore they will take Punch and Judy
with them.</p>
<p>Among our new neighbors were Marjory and
Doris, two dear little girls who often came over
with their doll buggies to take my kittens out to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>
ride; and after a nice outing they would generally
sit on the porch and hold the kittens on their laps
a while. Doris’ little brother George used to come
over too, and sometimes he would try to hold a
kitten on his lap, but the poor little thing would
slide right through between his legs, which always
made George feel very badly, and caused him to
cry.</p>
<p>One evening George’s mother called, and mistress
told her about the children’s play with the
kittens, and how George cried because he could not
hold one in his lap. At this Mrs. Gafney laughed
heartily. “That explains,” said she, “why George
teases me so much lately to dress him up in Doris’
clothes and make a girl of him.”</p>
<p>So you see we have found some very delightful
neighbors in our new house.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXVIII<br>
<small>BOOKER T. WASHINGTON AND ADMIRAL DEWEY</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Just</span> before we left Maple Road the kind Providence
had sent me five kittens; but one day upon
awaking from my nap, three were missing. I
knew they could not have crawled out, for they
were only a few days old, and as I looked for them
I smelled the odor of that same medicine that mistress
gets for homeless and sick cats. I suppose
she thought I had too many to take care of; and
knowing that whatever she does is for the best, I
gave myself over wholly to those that remained
with me.</p>
<p>One of my kittens was black with white toes and
a white breast which mistress always called his
“white shirt.” The markings on his face were so
irregular that it made him look as if he had a
crooked nose. But he was clever and energetic.
His full name was Booker T. Washington, and I
used to hear mistress say that he was every whit
worthy of it. His immaculate white shirt front, together
with his dignified bearing, gave him a real
preacher-like appearance.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe44" id="i_194_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_194_facing.jpg" alt="Booker T. Washington">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Booker T. Washington</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>My other kitten was a Maltese, with white markings.
When still very small he was promised to
Miss Gracie Jones, one of our new neighbors on
Elmwood Place, who came over every day after
school and played with him. She named him Admiral
Dewey. But Booker was the great favorite,
and mistress would not promise him to anybody,
although many asked for him.</p>
<p>Soon after we became settled in our new home,
both my kittens were taken very ill. They seemed
to be in great pain at times, and they would moan
and cry out in their helplessness so that it was pitiful
to see them. At last they became so weak that
they were no longer able to walk from the basket to
their box; but mistress bore with them very
patiently, as did also Bettie. She would scald milk
for them and when it had cooled, feed it to them
from a spoon, with a napkin tied around their neck.
With such excellent nursing the two invalids began
gradually to improve, and Miss Gracie was overjoyed,
thinking she would soon be able to take
Dewey to her home. But all of a sudden her
mother was taken very ill, and the Doctor said they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>
must go to Denver to live for a long time. Then
Miss Gracie had to give up Dewey because Denver,
they say, is very far away.</p>
<p>For several days after Miss Gracie’s departure
Dewey sat on the window-seat almost constantly
looking for his friend; and when at last he despaired
of her coming he refused to play or to eat,
and thus he pined away, until one morning he did
not rise at all. When Bettie went to his basket
to see what was the trouble, Dewey lay there
dead. He had died of a broken heart, I verily
believe.</p>
<p>And right here let me relate a story that Guy
read to his mother one evening about a little waif
of a kitten that a boy found in the basement of his
school building in the great city of San Francisco.
He was a kind little lad, and anxious to help the
kitty, so he took her up to his teacher.</p>
<p>When Guy had read that far he turned to his
mother and said, “I know what my teacher would
do, if I should bring a cat into the schoolroom;
she would put the cat out and make me stay after
school.”</p>
<p>“Well, read on,” said his mother, “and let’s see
what this teacher did.” So Guy read the piece<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>
through, while I lay perched on his shoulder and
listened. The story went on to say how the teacher
took the kitty in and fixed her a comfortable place
behind the stove; how for many days she carried
her home for the night and brought her back in the
morning; and how she was such a well behaved
kitty and always stayed dutifully in her corner, during
study hours. But at recess and after school
kitty played at marbles with the boys, and caught
spools and strings for the girls. By and by some
of the children asked permission to take the kitty
home, and the teacher allowed them to take her
by turns as a reward for good conduct. One morning
on the way to school, a saucy dog frightened
the kitty, and she escaped from the arms of the
boy that was carrying her. But he succeeded in
getting her again, and after that somebody sent a
fish-net shopping bag to that school for the kitty to
be conveyed in. And now she has a different
home and a new master or mistress every day; yet
she is just as happy with one as another.</p>
<p>Now does not this refute the wicked slander that
cats have no love for people, but only for themselves
and for their comfortable homes? And is
it not true that those who say this are usually the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>
ones who never gave a cat any affection, and consequently
don’t deserve any in return?</p>
<p>The loss of little Dewey was indeed a hard blow
for Booker, but, fortunately, about that time he
made the acquaintance of a new cat in the neighborhood
named Molly Scott, a handsome tiger, and
his remaining days at mistress’ house were really
love’s young dream.</p>
<p>But even love’s young dream is of short duration,
if a cat may be allowed to express an opinion on
such a matter. One evening mistress wrapped up
Booker and took him out in the Switzerland bag to
visit a friend, and when she returned it was without
him.</p>
<p>“They would not let me bring him back,” said
mistress when Bettie inquired after Booker. “But
I am sure he couldn’t find a happier home anywhere,
for not only is every member of the family
perfectly in love with him, but even the housekeeper
begged me to let him stay, and promised to
give him the kindest attention.”</p>
<p>After Booker’s departure, for more than a week
his friend Molly came over every morning to look
for him. She would meow first at the back door,
then at the front door, and not receiving any response,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>
would climb up on the different window
ledges and call for her friend. But after a while she
fell in with a new cat by the name of Goldie, and
he, in time, came to fill Booker’s place in her
affections.</p>
<p>A word about Goldie: One cold winter evening
mistress brought home in a bag a yellow tiger cat,
which I thought from his appearance must have
come from the very slums of catdom. He was all bedraggled
with mud, and his face resembled that of
a sore-eyed poodle. But after a bath, oh, what a
difference! Then it turned out that the stranger
had a beautiful fluffy coat of sunshiny yellow and
white, with brown stripes intermingled, and the
name “Goldie” was thought none too nice for him.
The very first neighbor that saw him was ready to
adopt him, and this was Mrs. Gafney, the mother
of our little friends George and Doris. And there
Goldie is to-day, a delightful playmate, and an all-around
household treasure.</p>
<p>I noticed during the first few days Goldie was
with us that he would not allow any one to touch
his tail, and would claw and scratch whoever attempted
to touch it, even in a friendly way. Mistress
tried her best to teach Goldie better manners<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>
by scratching him on the head and gradually going
farther down his back. But just as soon as she got
near his tail, Goldie would begin to eye her suspiciously,
and indeed poor mistress’ hands were a
network of scratches before she had gained Goldie’s
confidence enough so that he no longer dug his
fierce claws into her flesh.</p>
<p>I was very curious to know what caused Goldie
to act so, and at the first opportunity I asked him
the reason.</p>
<p>“Reason enough,” said he. “If you had had
your tail pinched and twisted as mine has been by
a cowardly sneak of a boy, you would be wary too.
But I finally tired of such a life and started out in
search of a better home.”</p>
<p>“And how were you so fortunate as to fall into
the hands of our mistress?” said Budge, who had
come to hear Goldie’s story.</p>
<p>“Fortunate, I should say it was fortunate,” said
Goldie. “I will tell you all about it. After tramping
from door to door for several days, and sleeping
under barns and coal sheds, one evening I followed
two ladies up to a beautiful house. But evidently
they had not noticed me, for as soon as they
entered, the door was shut, and I was left behind.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>
I felt very badly, especially as I had learned from
their conversation that they were friends of cats.
As I sat there on the porch-rail wondering what
next to do, I noticed that it was not a very great
distance to a brilliantly lighted window, and being
anxious to attract the attention of those ladies I
made a bold leap and landed safely on the window-sill.
There in that beautiful room sat four ladies,
and a gentleman, and one of the ladies came at
once to the window and begged the gentleman to
open it. He did so, and I heard him say something
about a ‘poor apology for a cat’ as he took
me in and set me on a rug. Then one and another
began talking about me in a way that was anything
but complimentary, while the lady that had
asked to let me in sat on the floor beside me, looking
me over, and occasionally rubbing my nose
and head.</p>
<p>“I felt that I had at last found a friend, and sure
enough, when it was time to go home, she asked
for a laundry bag to carry me in, saying she would
give me a bath and prepare me for a home because
I was a very nice cat. And that is how I was
brought here that evening.”</p>
<p>Before Goldie went to live with George and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>
Doris, he spent some very happy days with us.
He was a fine mouser, and was always rummaging
around the barn over in the corn-field. Of course
he never succeeded in catching any mice for the
simple reason that the barn is too close to our
premises, and no mouse could exist there for a
single day.</p>
<p>And now speaking of mice, let me say right
here: never expect a poorly-fed, ill-treated cat to
catch them, because such a cat in time loses her
sense of smell so completely that she is unable to
scent mice at all. But on the other hand, the
better you treat her, the more she will do for you
in return.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXIX<br>
<small>TWO FAR JOURNEYS</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">I suppose</span> you have wondered why I never
mention Guy any more. Well, he has gone away
off to Boston to attend school. I well remember
when a new trunk was brought into the house, and
mistress packed all of his things into it so carefully.
When it was very nearly filled to the top, she tucked
in a box of candy and four little pictures; one of herself,
one of a darling little girl, one of a beautiful
lady with a baby in her arms that had a white circle
around his head, and one of a group of kittens all
standing in a row. On top of the pictures and the
candy she laid a new silk muffler, and a beautiful
soft, fluffy bath-robe, and before she could put in
any more she had to go down-stairs to see a
caller.</p>
<p>I had been with mistress all the morning, watching
the different things she put into the trunk, and
I felt myself getting quite sleepy; so while she was
down-stairs I crawled into the trunk to take my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>
morning nap, and I found a very cozy little place
between the folds of that beautiful robe.</p>
<p>I was just getting nicely settled, when I felt
Budge crawling in from the other side. “Isn’t this
fine,” said he, as his nose touched mine; and in less
time than it takes to tell it, we were fast asleep in
Guy’s new trunk.</p>
<p>This was very pleasant, but imagine my feelings
when I was rudely awakened by being squeezed
so hard that it is a wonder my body has not ever
since been flat instead of round; and as for making
an outcry, it was utterly impossible. But thanks to
the kind Providence, in an instant I felt the pressure
released. Just then I heard mistress say something
about the trunk being too full, and before I
got myself out of the folds of the robe, her kind
hands were upon me. As she pulled me out of
my hiding-place, she said, “For mercy sakes! cats!
did you want to go to Boston, too?” Then without
another word she quickly locked the trunk, for
the expressman stood ready to take it away. So
you see how near we came to going to Boston with
Guy.</p>
<p>After Guy had gone, some of mistress’ friends
advised her to break up housekeeping and to board.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>“Just think how much cheaper it would be for
you,” said Mrs. Cotton one day; “and with no
housekeeping to bother with, how much more
leisure time you would have.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how I would employ my leisure
more profitably,” said mistress, “than in maintaining
the dear home on which my boy’s tenderest
thoughts are centred, and around which cluster
those sacred memories that form the very ground-work
of a wholesome and rugged life. The very
first letter he wrote me started out: ‘I am seated
by my window as the sun is setting over my dear
western home.’ Now, would he have such fond
thoughts of his home, and would he be likely to
connect it with the beautiful spectacle of the setting
sun, were it reduced to a room in a boarding-house?”</p>
<p>“Again you have convinced me that your way
of thinking is right,” said Mrs. Cotton.</p>
<p>And so now, although Guy is no longer with us,
we are still in our dear home on Elmwood Place.</p>
<p>When the pleasant weather came again, mistress
began to make ready, as usual, for her summer outing.
Of course, we did not expect her to take us
along this time, because we had heard that she was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>
going way off to her “dear Switzerland,” as she
always calls it; and judging from what they say,
Switzerland must be even farther off than Denver.
But we knew that Bettie would be at home with us,
so we were content.</p>
<p>Just before mistress went on her long journey, a
lovely young lady came to help her get ready, and
the very first day they got to talking about us cats.</p>
<p>“You ought to get acquainted with Mrs. Bolton,”
said Miss Cummings, “for she is just as great a
friend of cats as you are and her home is a perfect
haven for strays.”</p>
<p>“I am very glad to hear it,” said mistress. “Do
please tell me about her cats.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Miss Cummings, “Mrs. Bolton has
fitted up a little shed at the rear of her house,
which is filled up in cold weather with loose straw.
Into this place stray or homeless cats and dogs
crawl through a small opening and find shelter.
Moreover they are fed and made to feel welcome.
I have known her to have so many of these transient
boarders there that it takes several pounds of
meat a day to supply them; and as soon as they
look sleek and plump Mrs. Bolton generally finds
good homes for them.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>“What you say is encouraging,” said mistress,
“because I am often criticised, and told that I
would do better to lavish my attentions on some
neglected child, than on cats. But children have a
hundred friends where cats have none.”</p>
<p>“That’s just what I have heard Mrs. Bolton say,”
replied Miss Cummings.</p>
<p>“And furthermore I have found,” said mistress,
“that my interest in cats has increased my love for
human beings, and indeed for all living creatures.”</p>
<p>But to return to the journey. When mistress
went away to Switzerland three lovely young ladies
came to live at our house, and Bettie kept house
for them. Toddy was living with Mrs. Smith and
Budge and I stayed at home. But if you should
ask me how we spent the long summer, I should
have to tell you that we passed a good share of it
sitting on the front porch railing, where mistress
had placed a shelf behind the vines for our
accommodation. There we sat day after day, looking
longingly up the street; each wanting to be
the first to tell the others the happy news of mistress’
return. At last the robins had sung their
good-bye songs, and the grasshoppers had taken
their departure. The leaves were beginning to fall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>
but we did not find any pleasure in chasing them,
as we had other years. Our days were passed
wearily and sadly, till one morning the joyful news
came that mistress had arrived in New York. Oh!
how it thrilled us with delight. Budge ran across
the street to tell Toddy, and we all went to work
to sleek ourselves up so as to look our very prettiest.
I had at this time three little kittens just ten
days old, and they had that very morning opened
their eyes. They, too, had to come in for their
share of grooming.</p>
<p>The next morning after breakfast a carriage
drove up to the curb, and in it was our mistress.
Toddy recognized her from way across the street,
and came over mewing a hearty welcome. Budge
gave vent to his feelings by means of the graceful
curves and spirals of his tail, and as for me, I welcomed
her with a succession of winks.</p>
<p>As soon as mistress had greeted us all, she inquired
after my kittens just as if she knew all about
them, and, of course, I showed them to her with
great delight and pride.</p>
<p>“Poor, dear Meow,” said she, “you tried to have
a pleasant surprise for my home-coming, didn’t
you?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>I winked assent, and then she proceeded to name
my babies. The dainty little gray with white
breast, she called Lady Jane Grey; the tiger Patsy,
and the black one Hiddigeigei, after a famous black
cat that lived many years ago in a beautiful castle
on the Rhine, and in a German book<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> you can
read what an honorable and useful cat he was.</p>
<p>When mistress took a second look at Toddy she
seemed visibly affected by the sad plight he was in,
for he had been in failing health all summer. His
once beautiful body was flabby and wasted, and
the once bushy tail stringy, and almost bare. For
several days Toddy received mistress’ most lavish
attention; then all of a sudden he disappeared, and
not one of us had any idea whither he had gone,
till one evening Mrs. Smith came over and inquired
for him.</p>
<p>“I took him to the hospital,” said mistress, “but
it was too late to save him; and he has gone to the
other side of Jordan.” Mrs. Smith said she was
very sorry to miss him, but that, after all, she
thought that was the best place for him.</p>
<p>So now, of course, although I don’t know where
Jordan is, still I am satisfied it must be a very good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>
place for cats, if Mrs. Smith and mistress think so;
and perhaps I ought to have made the title of this
chapter read “Three Far Journeys” instead of two.</p>
<p>About the time mistress returned from Switzerland
a lady and a gentleman came to live across
the street from us, and they brought with them a
white cat. Of course, after the way Nellie had
treated us we were in no great hurry to make the
acquaintance of Snowdrop, as they called him; but
we used to watch him from our shelf on the porch
as he would have his ups and downs with Goldie,
and we soon discovered that he was very much
like the rest of us in his daily conduct. True,
there were times when he would sit on his mistress’
sewing-table by the front chamber window,
and groom and primp himself just like Nellie, and
try to look pretty; but the very same day perhaps
he would be rolling in the gutter as if he thought a
dust bath the very best thing to improve his appearance.
Then also he was a great fellow to explore
the neighborhood, and after he had nosed
around in every nook and corner on his own side
of the street he came to our side one afternoon and
went over into the corn-field. Budge and I followed
him, and after the formal greetings common
to cats, we lay down in a sunny corner and had an
interchange of views.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_210_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_210_facing.jpg" alt="Snowdrop">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Snowdrop</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>“It seems to me you have a pretty lonesome
time of it, alone all day,” said Snowdrop, sprawling
himself out on the sun-warmed earth as he spoke.</p>
<p>We told him that we had become used to being
alone during the day, and what a kind mistress we
had, and how we regretted her long absence.
Then he told us what a long journey he made with
his mistress all the way from a great city called
Chicago to his present home.</p>
<p>“Are Chicago cats all white like you?” said
Budge.</p>
<p>“No, indeed,” replied Snowdrop, “my very best
friend and constant companion in Chicago was a
black cat named Topsy. She hadn’t a white hair
on her whole body; and she was the mother of two
kittens, one all black with white slippers, and the
other all white with black tips on her ears and tail.
And beside her I knew many other cats just like
these around here. So you see that Chicago cats
are no different from those in other cities.”</p>
<p>When I asked Snowdrop how he came to leave
Chicago and make such a long journey, he said:</p>
<p>“You see it was this way. One day a fine gentleman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>
came to our house, and then there was a
great feast with flowers and music and many beautiful
ladies. But my mistress was the most beautiful
of them all, for she was dressed all in white. Topsy
and I were there too, all decked out with beautiful
ribbons. But right in the midst of it this young
gentleman took my mistress and me away. I was
put in a large covered basket; but I did not mind
it, so long as my dear mistress was with me. I
slept all night in a chair beside her bed, and in the
morning early I was again put into my basket.
The next time when it was opened I stepped out of
it in my present beautiful home. If only Topsy
was here, my happiness would be complete.”</p>
<p>I told Snowdrop to come over and visit us
whenever he felt homesick for Topsy, and he
thanked me very kindly. But just at that moment
he heard his mistress’ call, and like an obedient cat,
he arose and went home.</p>
<p>Budge and I promised ourselves many delightful
times with Snowdrop; but, sad to relate, that was
the last we ever saw of him. We never knew what
had become of him till one day Goldie told us that
he saw a man pull Snowdrop off the porch-rail in
front of his house, and walk away with him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>Of course, his mistress was heart-broken when
she discovered that her pet had disappeared; and
when, after every effort to find him, she finally gave
him up for lost, she came over and selected my little
Patsy to take Snowdrop’s place as soon as he
should be old enough. But I do hope that before
that time comes, Patsy’s new mistress will put up a
shelf for him on her porch, high enough like ours,
so passers-by cannot reach him, and behind the
vines, so he can see without being seen.</p>
<p>Now I have told you about four far journeys instead
of two.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXX<br>
<small>THE BURGLAR MAN</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> very long after mistress’ return one evening
just after dark a big burglar man came into our
house. I knew he was a burglar because he crawled
in through the window, and he went into all the
rooms. Budge was terribly afraid of him and hid
himself under the ice-chest; but Toddy and I followed
him up-stairs to see what he would do. First
he pulled down all the shades, then lighted a little
lamp which he carried, and opened the closets and
drawers, and mistress’ trunk. He was just about
to do up some of mistress’ most beautiful dresses
into a bundle, when I heard the sound of three very
loud whistles on the outside. At this the man instantly
dropped everything and rushed down-stairs;
and just as he was running out of the back door,
Bettie came in at the side.</p>
<p>I did so wish I was big enough to grab him like
Beautiful Joe did old Jenkins, and hold unto him
till she could catch him. But being only a cat, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>
course, I could not do it. Still, if he had touched
my kittens I believe I should have summoned up
all the tiger within me in my efforts to defend
them.</p>
<p>During the evening many of our neighbors came
to the house to see what the burglar had done, and
from what they said I guess there is no telling
what he would have taken if the whistle hadn’t
sounded just when it did. For all I know he might
have taken my babies too. At any rate, I concluded
to put them where he couldn’t find them, if
he ever came again.</p>
<p>Among the neighbors that called that evening was
the gentleman that had brought Snowdrop from
Chicago. The moment he saw my basket he inquired
for Patsy, and mistress took him out and
handed him over to his future master.</p>
<p>“Feline stock is bound to rise,” said he, as he
fondly petted Patsy; “it is becoming the fashion
now to have real cats in schools and kindergartens,
instead of mere pictures of them.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said mistress, “the many-sided usefulness
of the cat is gradually becoming recognized. I had
a vivid picture of her future possibilities when on a
visit to a hospital for insane, where I saw sullen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>
and turbulent men and women subdued and
softened by the winsome ways of a kitten; and the
feelings that its presence seemed to awaken within
them seemed to me to point out a new way to
‘minister to a mind diseased.’”</p>
<p>The gentleman finally put Patsy back into my
basket and I felt quite relieved, for I had begun to
fear from the way he praised and petted him that
he was going to take him away.</p>
<p>That night I hunted for a good hiding-place and
before morning I had my darlings all safely tucked
away in the basement behind the kindling.</p>
<p>It was no small task to carry each one down the
stairs, for they were now several weeks old; but
you know a mother will endure almost any hardship
for the sake of her babies.</p>
<p>The poor little things had their rest so broken,
that when mistress and Bettie came down they were
still sound asleep, and I went up-stairs to get my
breakfast at the usual time.</p>
<p>As soon as mistress missed my kittens she and
Bettie began hunting for them in every nook and
corner, and they looked behind the kindling pile
several times; but I had put them in a hollow space
away back among the kindling where they could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>
not be seen. After a long search they gave it up,
hoping they would come to light by evening, and
my poor babies lay all that day on the bare stone
floor.</p>
<p>I soon discovered that I had made a mistake, for
before night their eyes were all watery, and they
were sneezing a regular concert, so that when mistress
returned in the evening it did not take her
long to find them.</p>
<p>She brought them up-stairs and wrapped them in
a flannel cloth. Then she fixed our basket with a
nice warm blanket, and set it in a sheltered corner
behind the cook-stove, and there she installed my
babies in their new quarters. For many days every
morning and evening she would take a basin of
warm water, and with a soft cloth wash out their
eyes; for the discharge would make such a thick
coating as to close them up completely in a few
hours. As the kittens were too small to be fed
medicine with a spoon, mistress had to devise some
new way of giving it to them. She dipped their
paws repeatedly into a mixture called catnip tea,
and, of course, they would lick it off.</p>
<p>But even with this ingenious invention it was
some weeks before my kittens recovered from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>
ill effects of that unhappy day on the basement
floor. I was very sorry to have caused my dear
mistress so much trouble, and my poor babies so
much suffering, but I did it to keep the horrid
burglar man from finding them.</p>
<p>A few days after the burglar man had visited us,
a handsome water spaniel came to the house and
begged for admittance, and mistress very gladly
took him in. I think the kind Providence sent him
to protect us, for from that time we have never been
bothered with burglars.</p>
<p>The dog was named Dennis, because he was the
very image of our old-time friend on Poplar
Avenue. He and I became good friends at once,
but Budge resented his presence so bitterly that for
many weeks they could not be allowed in the same
room; and it was only by very slow degrees, as
Budge saw that Dennis would not molest him, that
he came to tolerate him.</p>
<p>When my little kittens had become old enough
to run about outdoors, Dennis was very helpful.
He would lie near the curb in front of the house,
and if one ventured out from the side of the house,
he would promptly drive him into the back yard.
He was also fond of tantalizing us at meal-time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>
when his meat was thrown out on the grass for
him. He would stand off, pretending he did not
care for it, and just as quick as one of us would
attempt to go and take it, he would come with a
bound and a growl, and snatch it away from us,
then drop it a little further off, and repeat the operation.</p>
<p>Dennis was in the habit of absenting himself from
us every week for a day or two. Once he was
absent several days, and upon his return wore a
beautiful collar, which, however, was missing when
he returned from his next trip. I suppose some
folks thought they had found a nice dog, and
presented him with a collar; but finding him so
inconstant, they deprived him of it the next time
he came around.</p>
<p>I must not forget to tell you of the very practical
and effective way that mistress has of teaching
kittens to know and respond to their names. As
you probably know, she always gives a kitten a
name as soon as it is born. Then, whenever she
picks up one, she keeps repeating its name over and
over as she pets it. She also occasionally takes one
away from the rest, up to her room or into the
library, and there, whether engaged in reading or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>
writing, she looks up every little while and talks to
it, always calling it by name.</p>
<p>And right here let me tell you, a cat with a
respectable name feels a sense of dignity and self-respect
that is impossible to one only known by the
general name of “kitty.” Moreover, it gives him a
chance to exercise promptness and obedience,
qualities which are sure to endear an animal to his
master, because, when he hears his name called, he
can get right up and run, knowing that it means
him and not some other cat.</p>
<p>By the way, Bettie has left us, but it was for her
good that she went, and, of course, we would not
be so selfish as to be sorry about it, although we
miss her sorely. Ever since Bettie came, mistress
gave her lessons almost every evening, and Bettie
studied very industriously every spare minute.
Now she has gone to work in an office and is
living in a boarding-house.</p>
<p>“You are very foolish when you have a good
housekeeper, to put such high-faluting notions into
her head,” said Mrs. Cotton, upon hearing where
Bettie had gone. “You might have had her for
years, if you had just left her alone.”</p>
<p>“That’s true,” said mistress. “But the pleasure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>
of helping one who is striving to better her condition
fully repays for a little inconvenience.”</p>
<p>“You had her a year,” said Mrs. Cotton, “so you
did better than most people do, after all. These
girls are always on the move.”</p>
<p>“It’s because most people look upon them as a
mere convenience,” said mistress, “instead of as
fellow-beings with longings for happiness and advancement
like ourselves. Let housewives set before
their help a higher ideal and they will set in
motion within them forces which will root out the
ever-present longing for shifting about from place
to place.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Cotton acted as if she did not quite agree
with what mistress said. She looked at her watch
and said it was time for her to go; but before
leaving she came over to the bookcase where I had
been sitting and gave me a few gentle strokes.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXXI<br>
<small>A FRIEND IN NEED</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Just</span> before Bettie went away, mistress brought
home one evening two little tiger kittens with white
breasts and faces, but very thin and haggard looking,
and so distrustful. I heard her tell Mrs. Wallace
that she had brought them home to try and find
homes for them.</p>
<p>“But I couldn’t recommend these kittens to anybody
before I knew something of their habits,” said
mistress, “for if they turned out to be troublesome
it would hurt the reputation of our own kittens,
and so that is why I brought them home.”
Mistress named them Billee and Taffy, and started
at once to put them through the usual course of
training to fit them for nice homes.</p>
<p>Taffy was a very quiet little fellow, but Billee was
quite sociable. On the day after his arrival I had
occasion to do him a little favor, and in expressing
his thanks to me he grew quite talkative, and told
me something of his former life. Said he: “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>
was born in a stable that stood in the rear of some
stores, and we never had a mistress like you have.
Our master was very kind to his horse Jessie, and
he seemed to enjoy having us cats around after we
got old enough to play. But the old stable was so
infested with fleas, we never had a moment’s peace;
and my poor mother became thin and gaunt trying to
keep herself and us looking respectable. That bath
last night, I dreaded it at first; but when I saw those
fleas floating around in the suds I thought I ought
to be able to stand it for their sakes. If my mother
could have a bath like that and a brushing, and
then lie down peacefully on our clean soft pad, it
would be bliss unheard of to her. But she will never
leave that dirty old stable so long as she and Jessie
can share it together, and indeed I don’t think she
could have a more devoted friend; for many a
cold night did we sleep in Jessie’s stall cuddled
close up to her warm, sleek body. Near our stable
was a big hotel where our mother got daily many
choice bits of meat and fish, and this is how she
made her living and raised her kittens; and I tell
you it was pretty hard work for her to carry enough
food for so many hungry little mouths.”</p>
<p>“How many were there of you?” said I.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>“Six,” said Billee, “beside our dear mother,
who always gave us the best she had of everything.”</p>
<p>On the very same evening that mistress brought
the little kittens home, curiously enough we had
another new arrival, a Maltese cat with white markings.
She came up the sidewalk in front of our
house crying as if in great distress. Mistress
invited her into the house to have some supper, but
it was evident that hunger was not the cause of her
crying, for she did not touch a morsel of food.
When mistress examined her more closely, she
found to her horror that the poor thing’s breasts
were greatly swollen, and that evidently, some one
had robbed her of her kittens. Then mistress
picked up the two little new kittens, and laid them
on the pad by the old cat; and instantly the little
things began to nurse her, and were soon purring a
happy song of thankfulness. The “stepmother,”
as mistress called the strange cat, washed each kitten
in true mother fashion, and for several days enjoyed
real mother bliss.</p>
<p>All this was very nice for the “stepmother,” but
it proved disastrous to the kittens, for both took
sick and died. After that mistress rubbed the old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>
cat’s breasts daily with spirits of camphor, and in a
few days she seemed to be all right.</p>
<p>I asked the “stepmother” one day how she
came to leave home at such a critical time, and she
unburdened to me a tale of cruelty and abuse that is
almost beyond belief. She said that there being no
other place provided, her kittens were born in the
laundry basket, and that on the next morning when
they were discovered, the lady ruthlessly dumped
them out on the bare stone floor and ordered her son
to come and drown them. “So my poor babies were
dropped into a bucket of cold water right before
my eyes,” said she, “and I was powerless to save
them.”</p>
<p>“Pray, who are these people,” said I, “that
treated you in this manner?”</p>
<p>“Their name is Morton,” said she, “and Will was
the one that did the deed; but he is not to blame.
I remember years ago when he was a most tender-hearted
little fellow, and full of sympathy toward
the suffering. I shall never forget one bitter cold
day when a kitten followed him home from school
and he carried it into the house and begged to be
allowed to keep it. His mother let it remain till
Will’s bedtime arrived, when she compelled him to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>
put it outdoors, where it cried bitterly for hours;
and the next morning it was found on the doorstep,
frozen to death. And now that same mother wonders
why her son is so hard-hearted and brutal toward
her.”</p>
<p>“I’ve heard of the Mortons before,” said I, “and
I don’t blame you for leaving them. But you are
in good hands now—don’t fear.”</p>
<p>So the “stepmother” remained with us a few
days longer, and then she was taken by mistress to
a beautiful home, where they wanted a cat to live
in the stable with the coachman.</p>
<p>One cold day last winter, there strayed into our
basement two strange cats, both tigers, but very unlike
each other. One was sleek looking, full-grown
with beautiful, large eyes, and very confiding in
manner. The other was a shy, timid, shrinking
little creature, afraid of everybody, and yet hunger
evidently had driven her to seek help at our door.
Her coat was so rough and dirty, it was difficult to
tell what its real color was, and one eye was completely
gone from its socket. She was indeed a
pitiable sight, and I dare say very few people would
have allowed her to enter their door. Mistress
prepared her a plate of salmon, and the moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>
she smelled the odor, she began to dance around as
if she could hardly wait till it was ready. When at
last the plate was handed down to her she stepped
into it with both paws, and ate as greedily as any
dog I ever saw. Mistress let her have the dish all to
herself, and fed the rest of us from a different plate.</p>
<p>As soon as the poor creature’s hunger was appeased,
without stopping to wash, she went into a
dark corner behind the cook-stove and lay down to
rest. While she thus lay there, mistress said to
Bettie, “It seems to me the kindest thing we can
do to this poor creature is to gently put her to
sleep and end her troubles.”</p>
<p>“I think so, too,” said Bettie; “no one would care
to have such an unsightly animal around the house.
She will never be anything but a hapless vagabond,
to whom death would be a blessing.”</p>
<p>But after all the little stranger was allowed to
spend a few days of real happiness, and when one
morning we missed her, we knew that she had gone
to her long resting-place and was saved from further
sorrow.</p>
<p>As to the big cat, mistress said she felt sure that
she must be somebody’s pet, and she told Bettie not
to let her out under any circumstances.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>Several days afterward Budge told me that during
the first night of the big cat’s stay with us she
confided to him that her reason for leaving her home
was the fact that a new housekeeper who had lately
come, had just made her life unendurable; and
that in utter despair she had wandered away not
knowing whither to go.</p>
<p>The very next day after the stranger arrived she
became the mother of five kittens. I dread to think
what would have become of the poor thing and her
helpless babies on that cold winter night, if mistress
hadn’t allowed her to stay. But no doubt the kind
Providence directed her safely to our door.</p>
<p>A day or two after the little kittens came, there
was a notice in the newspaper: “Lost, strayed or
stolen, a full-grown tiger cat. Leave at ‘The
Elms’ and get reward.” When mistress saw it
she sent word to “The Elms” and they sent the
coachman, who identified the cat and took her and
her kittens home, wrapped up in a Buffalo robe and
tucked in a laundry basket which he had brought in
the coupé. The people at “The Elms” were so
grateful to mistress for sheltering their pet that they
sent her a basket of beautiful flowers.</p>
<p>Of course, it is not to be expected that every lady<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>
will turn her house into an asylum for stray cats; but
I have often heard mistress say, and so I believe it
is true, that many parents would have less cause to
mourn over selfishness and ingratitude in their
children if they would set a more generous and unselfish
example before them in their own treatment
of dumb and helpless creatures.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>
<h2 class="nobreak">XXXII<br>
<small>A KITTIE PARTY</small></h2>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> my kittens were of the proper age mistress
proposed they should have a chance to see all their
little friends, so we sent out invitations like this:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>“Meow will give a coming-out party on Saturday
next from two till six, to her kittens Hiddigeigei,
Lady Jane Grey and Patsy, assisted by Booker T.
Washington, Mollie Scott, Budge and Goldie.”</p>
</div>
<p>The happy day came at last, sunshiny and bright,
as if it had been made expressly for our party,
and at the appointed hour came also our little guests.
There were Marjory, Winifred, George and Doris,
and my new friends Frances, Arline, Earl, Lillian
and Burt. These, with Booker, Goldie, Budge, myself
and the kittens, made just sixteen in all.</p>
<figure class="figcenter illowe39_0625" id="i_230_facing">
<img class="w100" src="images/i_230_facing.jpg" alt="Hiddigeigei, Patsy and Lady Jane Grey">
<figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Hiddigeigei, Patsy and Lady Jane Grey</span></p></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Mollie Scott was also invited, but she did not
come. After it was all over she called and excused
herself, saying she had never attended a party, and
didn’t know just how it would be; but that she
had spent most of the afternoon on the back fence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>
taking note of what was going on, and that she
thought another time she would venture to try it.
Said I, “The way to learn to do a thing is to do it,
and you have probably missed the chance of your
life.”</p>
<p>At this Mollie gave me a very solemn look, and
as she turned to go I heard her mutter something
to herself about “no use crying over spilled milk.”</p>
<p>But to return to the party. Each of us big cats
wore a wide ribbon sash with a big bow tied
at the back, but the little kittens wore narrow ribbons
tied around their necks. Goldie wore white,
Booker crimson, Budge blue, and I orange; and the
kittens wore blue except Hiddigeigei who wore pink.
Our basket, handsomely decorated with fresh ribbon,
was placed in a sheltered corner of the library, and
let me assure you that we cats looked every bit as
festive and gay as did our guests.</p>
<p>For a while the children wanted to do nothing
else but play with the kittens, and I was only sorry
that I did not have enough to go around. I never
saw children handle kittens so carefully; no mauling,
no squeezing; they just laid them on their
breasts or on their laps, and stroked their backs and
scratched their heads and chins, as if they all knew<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>
just how kittens like to be treated. I half suspect
that mistress took them aside and showed them
how.</p>
<p>The kittens enjoyed the party much more than
we older ones. Budge—poor, timid, bashful Budge—he
never did like a crowd. When he saw such a
troop of children come in, he made for the basement,
where he remained in hiding behind the
laundry stove till mistress brought him up and put
him on top of the high bookcase; and there he
seemed to feel secure, for none of the children
could reach him. Booker and Goldie spent most
of the afternoon in hiding under the couch.</p>
<p>When my kittens had been played with long
enough, I went into my basket, and mistress understood
just what I meant by it.</p>
<p>“Children,” said she, “you see the kittens’
mother thinks her babies have had enough play for
the present, and she has gone to her basket to invite
them to come to her to have some dinner and
to take a nap. Now set all the kittens down on
the floor and see what they will do.”</p>
<p>When my kittens were set free I began crooning
to them, and oh, how it pleased the children to see
the little things stand still a second, prick up their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>
ears, and then run as one man in the direction of
the sound that a tired kitten loves so well to hear.</p>
<p>In less time than it takes to tell it, the three were
gathered at my breast and in another minute they
were purring contentedly, and Booker, dear
thoughtful child, stood guard in front of the basket.</p>
<p>Then some of the children sang beautiful songs
about kittens and birds, and Miss Wallace accompanied
them on the piano. I liked Lillian’s
song best of all; I will tell you the words of it:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“A homeless little kitten</div>
<div class="indent">Came to my door one day,</div>
<div class="verse">‘I’m cold and starved, please let me in!’</div>
<div class="indent">Its sad cries seemed to say.</div>
<div class="verse">I took it up and shut the door</div>
<div class="indent">Upon the bitter storm,</div>
<div class="verse">And put the little shiv’ring thing</div>
<div class="indent">Before the fire to warm.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="first">“I gave it milk to drink, and smoothed</div>
<div class="indent">Its pretty, soft gray fur.</div>
<div class="verse">‘Poor Pussy, stay with me,’ I said.</div>
<div class="indent">It answered with a purr.</div>
<div class="verse">And ever since that winter day</div>
<div class="indent">I have so happy been;</div>
<div class="verse">I gained a merry playmate when</div>
<div class="indent">I let my pussy in.”</div>
</div></div></div>
<p>When this song was finished they started a game
of Puss in the Corner, and they were just in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>
midst of it when the great Swiss cow-bell rang, inviting
the guests to luncheon. Then the children
were formed into line with mistress and Burt at the
head, and off they marched toward the dining-room
to the tune of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”</p>
<p>Several ladies assisted mistress with serving.
The table was decorated with daffodils, and indeed
daffodils were conspicuous all over the house. At
each plate stood a little red basket filled with candy
to take home.</p>
<p>When my kittens were all fast asleep I too went
to the dining-room, and those happy faces were indeed
a lovely sight. The children were just having
their ice cream and cake, and one of the ladies was
playing a soft, sweet air on the piano.</p>
<p>“This table-cloth is cleaner than ours,” said a
voice as I entered, and at this the ladies all smiled
at each other.</p>
<p>“This is starshine candy,” said Marjory.</p>
<p>“No, it’s moonshine drops,” said Arline.</p>
<p>The fact is, it was sunshine chips, as I heard
mistress tell Bettie when the groceries came.</p>
<p>“How old is your little brother?” said Lillian to
Doris.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>“He is three months and six years,” said Doris.</p>
<p>“My little brother came on the 4th of July,”
said Frances. “Papa bought him instead of fireworks.”</p>
<p>The ladies smiled some more.</p>
<p>“Our little brother is only two days old,” said
Lillian.</p>
<p>“I bet if my papa had known about it, he would
have bought him before your papa got him,” said
Winifred.</p>
<p>At this the ladies all smiled again.</p>
<p>When luncheon was over, Frances engaged the
attention of both old and young by her skill as a
climber and slider, and it seems to me that twelve
successful slides down the balustrade ought to have
been enough for her, but, no, she wanted more, and
in the thirteenth slide—biff, bang—down she went.
But fortunately she landed on the couch, so that
she escaped with only a bruise on her knee, which
mistress quickly covered with court-plaster. But
in descending, one of her heels struck Earl in the
stomach and knocked him against the wall, so that
he got a big bump on the back of his head.</p>
<p>Poor Earl tried hard not to cry, but the tears just
oozed out in spite of him. Mistress sent word to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>
Mrs. Wallace, his grandmamma, and in a few minutes
she appeared with a remedy, and attended to the
sore place in such an efficient way as only grandmammas
know how.</p>
<p>Booker turned the queerest somersaults, sideways,
frontward and backward trying to get his sash off,
and Goldie and he engaged in several pugilistic
encounters to the great delight and amusement of
the children.</p>
<p>Finally I thought I’d show them what I could
do, so I jumped on the piano and played a tune for
them. At this Budge took courage. He jumped
off the bookcase where he had been stowed away,
and joined me on the piano and we played a duet,
the like of which has never been heard on land or
sea.</p>
<p>While we were still playing, a gentleman came
with a big square box which he opened up and set
upon a very high three-legged stool. Then he had
mistress sit in front of it and the children all
around her. The curtains were drawn, and the
room was darkened, when, whiz—something blew
up and made an awful flash, and everybody said
“ah,” except poor little Burt; he said, “ouch,” and
began to cry. Some of the stuff from the “flash”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>
had blown toward him and burned his hand so that
it became very red and blistered. Mrs. Gafney
rushed across to her house to get some soothing
oil that was said to be the best thing in the world
for burns, and Burt’s hand was bandaged up.</p>
<p>It began to look by this time as though the
whole party would have to be sent home in an ambulance;
but the arrival of Don told us that it was
getting close unto six o’clock, for he had come to
take Winifred home; and in a few minutes all the
children, quite unwillingly, began to make ready
for their departure.</p>
<p>As they bade us good-bye, they all said that they
had had a very nice time, and mistress pinned on
the breast of each child one of those beautiful daffodils;
and so ended our party.</p>
<p>Here endeth also my story.</p>
<p>May the dear, kind Providence bless and keep
you all.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph3">LITTLE MAID SERIES</p>
</div>
<p class="center">As the title suggests, this series is especially<br>
adapted to young girls of from six to twelve<br>
years of age. They are pure stories<br>
told in a simple, attractive manner<br>
that cannot fail to become<br>
popular with mothers as<br>
well as their children.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/259.png" alt="decoration"></div>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="ph1"><span class="u">DIMPLE DALLAS</span></p>
<div class="hangingindent">
<p><i>Or the further fortunes of “A Sweet Little Maid.”</i>
<span class="smcap">By Amy E. Blanchard</span>, <i>Author of “A Dear
Little Girl,” “Thy Friend Dorothy,” etc.,
etc. 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</i> $1.00.</p>
</div>
<p>A charming addition to the “Little Maid Series,”
and a book that every little maid will love. As the
tale implies, it is a sequel to “A Sweet Little Maid,”
and we again meet dainty Dimple and funny little
Bubbles, with Florence, Rock, and all the other
friends. Some new friends are introduced, too,
who do not prove nearly so agreeable as our old
acquaintances; in fact, Cousin Ellen makes Dimple’s
home so unpleasant for her that she at last runs
away, and many a strange experience she must pass
through before she reaches home again.</p>
<p class="ph1"><span class="u">A DEAR LITTLE GIRL</span></p>
<div class="hangingindent">
<p><span class="smcap">By Amy E. Blanchard</span>, <i>Author of “Taking a
Stand,” “Thy Friend Dorothy,” etc. Illustrated.
12mo. Cloth.</i> $1.00.</p>
</div>
<p>This is a pretty, wholesome child’s story, one of
the sort that commends itself to children’s sympathies
and will be conned again and again. The
author is Amy E. Blanchard, who has written
several other acceptable juveniles. No mother need
hesitate ever putting this or any other of Miss
Blanchard’s stories into her little daughter’s hands.—<i>Detroit
Free Press.</i></p>
<p>Amy E. Blanchard is the author of quite a number
of pure-toned stories for girls, and her latest book
is “A Dear Little Girl,” who won the love of everybody
through the expression of a character at once
simple and innocent.—<i>Philadelphia Call.</i></p>
<p>The story of a bright, charming, tender, and good-hearted
little girl, whose kindness, amiability, and
natural and unaffected goodness charm all who come
in contact with her, and soften the heart even of
those who are inclined to be harsh and severe with
children. It is one of a number of books published
lately which give an insight into the feelings and
motives of childhood. It indicates how their seeming
faults are frequently the result of their good impulses.</p>
<p>The simple story is well told, and will interest
children and all who are interested in them.—<i>Pittsburg
Times.</i></p>
<p class="ph1"><span class="u">A SWEET LITTLE MAID</span></p>
<div class="hangingindent">
<p><span class="smcap">By Amy E. Blanchard</span>, <i>Author of “A Dear Little
Girl,” “Dimple Dallas,” etc., etc. Illustrated.
12mo. Cloth.</i> $1.00.</p>
</div>
<p>The heroines are a little white girl and a little
black girl, two very intimate friends. It is a charming
story for little girls—charmingly illustrated.—<i>Outlook.</i></p>
<p>This is a fascinating story, told in Miss Blanchard’s
delightful style, and it will be a very queer
little maid that will not enjoy reading about the good
times enjoyed by Florence, Dimple and Bubbles and
their dollies.—<i>Richmond Times.</i></p>
<p>Miss Blanchard has the happy knack of writing
in a way to interest little children, and this simple
tale is likely to interest many a young reader where
a more pretentious narrative would fail.—<i>Indianapolis
Journal.</i></p>
<p>Many charming stories for children have come
from the pen of this writer, and this new one adds
another lovable girl to the number with whom we
have already become acquainted. They have their
faults and little tempers as well as their sweet ways,
but we forgive them and love them all the more.
This Sweet Little Maid and her cousin have good
times together and also bad times when they get into
trouble, but through it all they claim our constant
interest and affection.—<i>Westminster Teacher.</i></p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p class="ph1">FOOTNOTES:</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Vid. Numbers xxvii. 1-8.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Vid. 1 Kings x. 1.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Vid. “Der Trompeter von Saeckingen,” by Scheffel.</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<div class="transnote">
<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p>
<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p>
<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p>
</div></div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUSSY MEOW ***</div>
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