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.
“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.
The next thing I did was to look around for my 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.
“Even Dennis was hunting for you all over the neighborhood,” said Toddy.
“And Jack came over every day,” said Budge, “to inquire whether you had
returned.”
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.
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, 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.
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.
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.
“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.”
At this moment Jack’s mistress came out into the yard, and when she saw
me she too seemed delighted, and to fitly celebrate my return, she
brought out the song box and made it play “The Cat Came Back.”
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.
“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.”
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.
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 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.
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.
XX
A NEW HOME
As 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.
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, 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.
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.
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 big maples, where
we could climb up in case of danger from big dogs.
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.
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.”
“Those are some of our new neighbors,” said mistress, “and we will see
if we can get on good terms with them.”
With that she raised the window, and threw out 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.
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.
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.
“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.”
[Illustration: THE TWO WERE HOLDING A FRIENDLY TALK IN THE GARDEN]
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.”
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.
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.
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.”
Very often Winifred came to visit us. But she 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.
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.
XXI
OUR WINGED FRIENDS
We 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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
We cats wanted to go out on the piazza the worst way during those days,
but the door was always shut.
Sometimes when both robins were away, mistress or Guy would go on the
piazza and scatter bread crumbs, but the naughty little sparrows would
come and take them away from the robins.
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.
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.
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.
After a time we began to hear very queer sounds 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
One afternoon, when both the robins happened to be away, mistress went
on the piazza to await their return.
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.
That evening a gentleman called upon Aunt Minnie, who was visiting us,
and Mistress told him about the queer conduct of Rena.
“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.”
“Do you think they will come again next year?” inquired mistress.
“They may if left to themselves, and their nest not tampered with in
the meantime,” said the gentleman.
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 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.
By the time mistress returned to the piazza, every one of the robins
had left the nest, and we cats saw them no more.
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?”
Mistress did not speak for some moments, then 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.”
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.
XXII
NEW NEIGHBORS
In 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.
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.
“Have you ever tried to bind him to his home with love and affection?”
said mistress. “I have found in my experience with animals that it
will forge a chain far stronger than iron.”
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.
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.
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.
I suppose you have often listened to cat concerts, and perhaps you have
wondered why cats’ music is 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.
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.
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 to leave him without his regular supply
of food and water.
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.
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.
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 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.