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. 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.
VIII
BUDGE AND TODDY THE SECOND
About 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.
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.
“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.”
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.
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.
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.
After we were thoroughly washed, mistress rinsed us off in plenty of
clean warm water, wiped us dry 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.
Budge is a Maltese, very short and fat, with shaggy coat, short bushy
tail, and a white “breastpin.”
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.
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. 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.
At last when it is all over, Toddy meekly kisses his victim, and says:
“Never mind, Budge, you know I was only in fun.”
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.
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 liked this so well
that he moved closer and closer to Toddy, and in so doing got partly
out of his cave.
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.
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.
“The charge of the Light Brigade,” said Guy, coming down the stairs
behind Toddy.
“No, it’s the Battle of Waterloo,” replied mistress.
With such playful companions as these, you can imagine what delightful
times I have had.
IX
A HAPPY HOME
Every 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.
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[1] 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 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.”
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.[2]
“What was the question she asked?” said Guy, after the reading was
finished.
“I don’t know,” said mistress; “the Bible does not tell us what it was.”
“I think I know what it was,” said he. “She asked him ‘who made God?’”
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.
I know of many poor cats that never get a drop of water at home. They
have to go and hunt for 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.
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.
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.
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 sunshine, or we play in the grass, climb the fences,
play hide-and-seek and roll in our catnip bed.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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 for a little while
in his life with great people he sought his humble lodging behind the
cook-stove and took a nap.
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.
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
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.
X
OUR HAPPIEST DAYS
On 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.
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.
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.
First he went on mistress’ desk, and pretended to read a letter
from grandpa; then he played a 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.
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.
[Illustration: “HE CRAWLED IN AND FELL ASLEEP”]
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 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.
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 miserably strangled to
death, before any one came to her rescue.
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.
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.
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 legs and ran away as fast as
he could, still howling piteously.
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.
But however that may be, I’m afraid it wasn’t very nice for Budge to
engage in such a skirmish on a Sunday.
XI
BETSY WHITEFOOT
Some 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.
Budge and Toddy were afraid of her, and ran back of the ash bin; but I
stayed to see what mistress would do.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The tub was not removed till the following morning, when Guy improvised
a little casket for the body and buried it by the side of Beauty,
marking the spot with a stake on which he wrote:
“SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THE UNKNOWN DEAD,”
and mistress planted some heliotrope upon it.
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:
“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.
“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 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.”
The lady made no answer to this at all, and mistress went into the
house, leaving her alone with her fancy work.
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.
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.
“What is in there?” said he, after he had visited it for the third time.
I told him about the sad occurrence of the day before.
“Was it a gray cat with white toes?”
I told him it was.
“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 Betsy, and how
they could so cruelly desert her is more than I can understand.”
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.
Jack readily assented, and when we had found a nice comfortable place
he went on telling me more about the Mortons.
“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.”
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.
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.”
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 gently she put her to sleep, and it seemed to
lessen somewhat the grief which he felt for his departed friend.
“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.”