Yet Jocko’s life was not a life of ease,—
We think to do entirely as we please,
Age teaches otherwise. One evil day
A cat approached the cushion where he lay
And tore away his inoffensive hair
And left him with his leathern skin laid bare,
Silent upon the rug. His Betsey-Jane
Found him with tears and kissed him well again;
But she herself, forgetful of her grief,
Laughed when they dressed him in a handkerchief
Just like a doll, but Jocko did not mind,
He still forgave her for his heart was kind.