I am one of seven. Very much to the grief and sorrow of my poor patient
mother, all the rest of my little brothers and sisters met with a watery
grave. I did not know what mother meant when she told me this, with
tears in her eyes. I was too young then, but I think I know now. But I
was left to comfort my parent's heart. This was humane at least in my
mistress, because, although it seems the fate of us poor pussies that
very many of us come into the world to be speedily drowned, it is cruel,
for many reasons, to destroy all a mother's darlings at once.
Well, the very earliest thing that I can remember is being taken up in
the arms of a pretty young lady. I was two months old then, and had
been playing with a ball of worsted, which I had succeeded in getting
entangled among the chair-legs.
"Oh, what a dear, beautiful, wee puss!" said this young miss, holding me
round, so that she might look at my face. "And, oh!" she added, "it has
such lovely eyes, and such a nice long coat."
"You may have it, Laura dear," said my mistress, "if you will be kind to
it."
"Thank you so very much," said Laura, "and I know I shall be fond of it
always."
And I do not doubt for a moment that Laura meant what she said. Her
fault, however, and my misfortune lay, as you shall see, in the fact
that she did not know a bit how to treat a pussy in order to make it
happy.
Laura liked me, and romped with me morning and night, it is true; but
although cats are ever so fond of attention and of romps, they cannot
live upon either, and often and often I have gone hungry to my saucer
and found it empty, which made me feel very cold and sad and dispirited.
Yet, in spite of this, I grew to be very fond indeed of my new
mistress, and as I sometimes managed to catch a mouse I was not so very
badly off after all.
When I gazed at Miss Laura's gentle face and her sweet eyes--they were
just like my own--I could not help thinking that if she only knew how
hungry and cold I often was, she would surely feed me twice a day at
least. But my crowning sorrow was to come; and this was nothing less
than the loss, I fear entirely, of my mistress's affection.
My grief was all the more bitter in that I was in some measure to blame
for it myself. You see, I was a growing cat, and every day the pangs of
hunger seemed more difficult to bear; so one day, when left by myself in
the kitchen, I found out a way to open the cupboard, and--pray do not
blame me; I do think if you had seen all the nice things therein, and
felt as hungry as I felt, you would have tasted them too.
One little sin begets another, and before two months were over I was
known in the kitchen as "that thief of a cat." I do not think Miss
Laura knew of my depredations downstairs, for I was always honest in the
parlour, and she would, I feel certain, have forgiven me even if she had
known. As I could not be trusted in the kitchen, I was nearly always
tamed out-of-doors of a night. This was exceedingly unkind, for it was
often dark and rainy and cold, and I could find but little shelter. On
dry moonlight nights I did not mind being out, for there was fun to be
got--fun and field-mice. Alas! I wish now I had kept to fun and
field-mice; but I met with evil company, vagrant outdoor cats, who took
a delight in mewing beneath the windows of nervous invalids; who
despised indoor life, looked upon theft as a fine art, and robbed
pigeon-lofts right and left.
Is it any wonder, then, that I soon turned as reckless as any of them?
I always came home at the time the milk arrived in the morning, however;
and even now, had my young mistress only fed me, I would have changed my
evil courses at once. But she did not.
Now this constant stopping out in all weathers began to tell on my
beautiful coat; it was no longer silky and beautiful. It became matted
and harsh, and did show the dirt, so much so that I was quite ashamed to
look in the glass. And always, too, I was so tired, all through my
wanderings, when I returned of a morning, that I did nothing all day but
nod drowsily over the fire. No wonder Miss Laura said one day--
"Oh, pussy, pussy! you do look dirty and disreputable. You are no
longer the lovely creature you once were; I cannot care for such a cat
as you have grown."
But I still loved her, and a kind word from her lips, or a casual caress
was sure to make me happy, even in my dullest of moods.
The end came sooner than I expected, for one day Miss Laura went from
home very early in the morning. As soon as she was gone, Mary Jane, the
servant, seized me rudely by the neck. I thought she was going to kill
me outright.
"I'll take good care, my lady," she said, "that you don't steal
anything, at any rate for four-and-twenty hours to come."
Then she marched upstairs with me, popped me into my mistress's bedroom,
locked the door, and went away chuckling. There was no one else in the
room, only just myself and the canary. And all that long day no one
ever came near me with so much as a drop of milk. When night came I
tried to sleep on Miss Laura's bed, but the pangs of hunger effectually
banished slumber. When day broke I felt certain somebody would come to
the door. But no. I thought this was so cruel of Mary Jane, especially
as I had no language in which to tell my mistress, on her return, of my
sufferings. Towards the afternoon I felt famishing, and then my eyes
fell upon the canary.
"Poor little thing!" said I; "you, too, are neglected and starving."
"Tweet, tweet!" said the bird, looking down at me with one eye.
"Now, dicky," I continued, "I'm going to do you a great kindness. If
you were a very, very large bird, I should ask you to eat me and put me
out of all this misery."
"Tweet, tweet!" said the bird very knowingly, as much as to say, "I
would do it without the slightest hesitation."
"Well," said I, "I mean to perform the same good office for you. I
cannot see you starving there without trying to ease your sufferings,
and so--"
Here I sprang at the cage. I draw a veil over what followed.
And now my appetite was appeased, but my conscience was awakened. How
ever should I be able to face my mistress again? Hark! what is that?
It is Miss Laura's footstep on the stair. She is singing as sweetly as
only Laura can. She approaches the door; her hand is on the latch. I
can stand it no longer. With one bound, with one wild cry, I dash
through a pane of glass, and drop almost senseless on to the lawn
beneath the window.
It was sad enough to have to leave my dear mistress and my dear old
home, which, despite all I had endured, I had learned to love, as only
we poor pussies can love our homes. But my mind was made up. I had
eaten Miss Laura's pet canary, and I dare never, never look her in the
face again.
Till this time I had lived in the sweet green country, but I now
wandered on and on, caring little where I went or what became of me. By
day I hid myself in burrows and rat-haunted drains, and at night came
forth to seek for food and continue my wanderings. So long as the grass
and trees were all around me, I was never in want of anything to eat;
but in time all this changed, and gradually I found myself caning nearer
and nearer to some great city or town. First, rows upon rows of
neatly-built villas and cottages came into view, and by-and-by these
gave place to long streets where never a green thing grew, and I passed
lofty, many-windowed workshops, from which issued smoke and steam, and
much noise and confusion. I met with many cats in this city, who, like
myself, seemed to be outcasts, and had never known the pleasures of home
and love. They told me they lived entirely by stealing, at which they
were great adepts, and on such food as they picked out of the gutter.
They listened attentively to my tales of the far-off country, where many
a rippling stream meandered through meadows green, in which the daisies
and the yellow cowslips grew; of beautiful flowers, and of birds in
every bush. Very much of what I told them was so very new to them that
they could not understand it; but they listened attentively,
nevertheless, and many a night kept me talking to them until I was so
tired I felt ready to drop. In return for my stories they taught me--or
rather, tried to teach me--to steal cleverly, not clumsily, as country
cats do. But, alas! I could not learn, and do as I would I barely
picked up a living; then my sufferings were increased by the cruelty of
boys, who often pelted me with stones and set wild wicked dogs to chase
me. I got so thin at last that I could barely totter along.
One evening a large black tom-cat who was a great favourite of mine, and
often brought me tit-bits, said to me, "There's a few of us going out
shopping to-night; will you come?"
"I'll try," I answered feebly, "for I do feel faint and sick and
hungry."
We tried some fishmongers' shops first, and were very successful; then
we went to another shop. Ill as I was, I could not help admiring the
nimble way my Tom, as I called him, sprang on to a counter and helped
himself to a whole string of delicious sausages. I tried to emulate
Tom's agility, but oh, dear! I missed my footing and fell down into the
very jaws of a terrible dog.
How I got away I never could tell, but I did; and wounded and bleeding
sorely, I managed to drag myself down a quiet street and into a garden,
and there, under a bush, I lay down to die. It was pitilessly cold, and
the rain beat heavily down, and the great drops fell through the bush
and drenched me to the skin. Then the cold and pain seemed all at once
to leave me. I had fallen into an uneasy doze, and I was being chased
once more by dogs with large eyes and faces, up and down in long wet
streets where the gas flickered, through many a muddy pool. Then I
thought I found myself once again in the fields near my own home, with
the sun brightly shining and the birds making the air ring with their
music. Then I heard a gentle voice saying--
"Now, Mary, I think that will do. The cheese-box and cushion make such
a fine bed for her; and when she awakes give the poor thing that drop of
warm milk and sugar."
I did awake, and was as much surprised as pleased to find myself in a
nice snug room, and lying not far from the fire. A neatly-dressed
servant-girl was kneeling near me, and not far off a lady dressed in
black sat sewing.
This, then, was my new mistress, and--_I was saved_. How different she
was from poor Miss Laura, who, you know, did not _mean_ to be cruel to
me. This lady was very, very kind to me, though she made but little
fuss about it. Her thoughtfulness for all my comforts and her quiet
caresses soon wooed me back again to life, and now I feel sure I am one
of the happiest cats alive. I am not dirty and disreputable now, nor is
my fur matted. I am no longer a thief, for I do not need to steal. My
mistress has a canary, but I would not touch it for worlds--indeed, I
love to hear it sing, although its music is not half so sweet to me as
that of the teakettle. Of an evening when the gas is lighted, and a
bright fire burning in the grate, we all sing together--that is, the
kettle, canary, and myself. They say I am very beautiful, and I believe
they are right, for I have twice taken a prize at a cat show, and hope
to win another. And if you go to the next great exhibition of cats, be
sure to look for me. I am gentle in face and short in ears, my fur is
long, and soft, and silky, and my eyes are as blue as the sea in summer.
So you are sure to know me.
Ida sat silent, but evidently thinking, for some time after I had
finished.
"That is quite a child's story, isn't it?" she said at last.
"Yes," I replied; "but don't you like it?"
"Oh yes, I do," she said--"I like all your stories; so now just tell me
one more."
"No, no," I cried, "it is quite time we returned; your auntie will be
back, and dinner waiting; besides, we have about three miles to walk."
"Just one little, little tale," she pleaded.
"Well," I replied, "it must be a very little, little one, and then we'll
have to run. I shall call the story--"
------------------------------------------------------------------------