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 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.”
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.
On the same occasion mistress read another piece which she cut out,
saying it would be a good thing for my story. It said:
“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.”
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.”
“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.”
“I have already begun,” said Toddy: “don’t you remember, Budge, the
other day when you did 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?”
“Yes,” said Budge, “and I helped you whip Pug, when he came into Mrs.
Watt’s yard?”
“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.”
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.
“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 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.”
XXVII
ANOTHER HOME
One 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.
“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.”
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?”
“We intend to take him along,” said Teddy; “we would take Judy too, but
mamma thinks two cats will be too much trouble.”
“Oh, no,” said mistress, “you must either take both, or leave both. If
they are separated so long they will become estranged, and then they
will no longer live together peaceably.”
“Then you will have to keep Punch, too,” said Dorothy.
“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.”
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:
Rockaby, hushaby, Pussy, my dear,
The dogs are all chained and there’s nothing to fear!
“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.”
When Teddy returned, mistress fixed up a cozy corner for our little
summer boarders, as she called Punch and Judy, in the kitchen.
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.”
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.
One morning a few days later we cats were all taken to the attic, where
we stayed for a long time.
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 a-wheel with mistress, tied securely
into the Switzerland bag.
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.
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.
For a time it was very noisy down below, and Punch and Judy were
terribly afraid; but after a 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.
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.
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.
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.
It don’t seem to be so with our mistress; for each time she has moved
so far as I know she has 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.
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.
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 that as for Nellie we wouldn’t waste any time trying
to be neighborly.
[Illustration: “TODDY, MRS. SMITH’S PARTICULAR FRIEND”]
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.
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.
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.
Punch and Judy were obliged to stay in the 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.
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
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.
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.”
So you see we have found some very delightful neighbors in our new
house.
XXVIII
BOOKER T. WASHINGTON AND ADMIRAL DEWEY
Just 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.
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.
[Illustration: BOOKER T. WASHINGTON]
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.”
“Well, read on,” said his mother, “and let’s see what this teacher
did.” So Guy read the piece 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.
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 ones who never
gave a cat any affection, and consequently don’t deserve any in return?
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.
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.
“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.”
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, 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.
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.
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 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.
I was very curious to know what caused Goldie to act so, and at the
first opportunity I asked him the reason.
“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.”
“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.
“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.
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.
“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.”
Before Goldie went to live with George and 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.
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.
XXIX
TWO FAR JOURNEYS
I suppose 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.
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 morning
nap, and I found a very cozy little place between the folds of that
beautiful robe.
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.