A CAT'S REFUGE
Where am I? Can I collect my thoughts and reflect a little—was there
ever such an unhappy cat? Only last night I sat and purred myself to
sleep beside my dear mother. Pressed close against her soft fur, I had
no thought of harm, and now where am I? But I must not be silly. Let me
close my eyes, and purr hard for a while, then sense will come to me.
I must not open them. When I look round this room, and see the shadowy
form of cat after cat, I think I will go crazy—and yet what a simpleton
I am. I am safe here. Danger is over; let me be thankful that I escaped
as I did.
Well, to go back to this morning. The east wind was out of the air. When
mother and I, and father, and Serena, and Jimmy Dory came yawning and
stretching out of the sitting-room and looked down-stairs, the hall door
was wide open, the sun was pouring in.
Mrs. Darley was so glad. She just loves sunshine. She went round the
house opening doors and windows, and just as soon as breakfast was over,
we all ran out on the sidewalk.
Cats get dreadfully tired of a back yard, and the back yards on Beacon
Hill are so sunless and dull. We like fun and excitement—a little mild
excitement—as much as human beings do. So my father and mother sat on
the big sunny stone door-step, while Serena, Jimmy Dory and I played on
the pavement.
We had a tiny round pebble that we were rolling with our paws. It was
such a funny little pebble. I pushed it, and danced, and caught it in my
paws and tossed it, and had a beautiful time, until my mother began to
warn me.
“Black-Face, don't go down the hill; there are bad boys there. Keep up
here.”
“I don't see any boys,” I said wilfully.
“They will soon see you if you go down there,” said my father severely.
I didn't believe him, and I thought my mother was fussy. I see now that
little cats have to learn by experience. Nothing would have convinced me
that there were bad boys at the foot of the hill, if I had not seen them
and felt the grasp of their unkind hands.
While we were playing, the little pebble suddenly began to roll down
hill. How fast it went! I watched it for a few instants, and then
something said: “Go after it, Black-Face!”
I tried hard not to. I looked back at my parents sunning themselves on
the door-step, I stared at Serena and Jimmy Dory who were cautious young
cats, and rarely disobeyed their parents.
“I'll just snatch it and run back,” I mewed hastily; then I ran.
I caught the little pebble, but alas! Something caught me. Just as I put
my paw on it, I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of boys standing
in a near alley. I turned to run, but it was too late. One of them
sprang toward me, and seized me by the back.
Then he started to race, not up the hill, but further down. I was nearly
suffocated with fright and pain, for the boy held me so tightly that I
could scarcely breathe. No one had ever clutched me like this before. I
had never been whipped. I had never been roughly handled, for Margaret
and Billy were good children.
This boy was a monster. His face was red and dirty, his eyes were
bulging from his head, and he stumbled as he ran, so that I was afraid
he would fall on me and kill me.
I may as well say here that the boy was not as bad as he seemed to me.
He had not stolen me. He was merely having some fun, or what he called
fun. He was some poor child that had had no one to teach him to be kind
to animals. He did not dream that I was suffering. He did not think that
a cat was capable of suffering.
So he hurried on and on, and some of the other boys ran yelling behind
him. I don't know exactly what streets he took. I was too terrified to
notice the way we were going, but soon I saw a river in the distance.
Was he going to throw me in it? Half choked as I was, I dug my claws in
his coat, and gave a frantic “Meow!” for, like all cats, I hate water.
“Boy,” called a policeman suddenly, “what are you doing with that cat?”
My captor was frightened and dropped me, and he and the other boys
turned and ran back. You may be sure that I made a dash for liberty. I
sprang wildly past the policeman, and not daring to follow the boys who
were going toward my home, I leaped into a narrow, dirty street where
there was a dreadful confusion of wagons, cars and throngs of people.
I threaded my way among them all—I don't know how I escaped being
killed—until finally I was forced to pause for breath.
Unfortunately some boys and girls saw me and gave chase. I don't think
they wanted to hurt me. They wished to catch me, but I was in terror
again, and ran into an alley. They followed me, so I sprang on a heap of
boxes, and then to a low porch.
The children discovered me there, and while some tried to coax me down,
others threw stones at me. I looked up desperately. There was no help
for me on the ground, for a big boy had begun to climb on the porch.
I examined the sloping side of the house roof. Then I leaped on it. Two
or three times I fell back, but at last I succeeded in making my claws
hold. They were fine sharp ones, or they never would have done so.
In two minutes I was on the very roof of the house, panting hard, my
heart almost out of my body, everything black before my eyes; but I was
safe.
There I saw that I was free from pursuit. The children had gone away. At
the same time, the roof was not very comfortable. It was cold and
slippery, for, by this time, the lovely sun had gone behind a cloud, and
soon I began to be very uneasy.
I thought of my father, and mother, and Serena and Jimmy Dory—that
distressed group at the top of the hill—for I had had one glimpse of
them as I was snatched by the boy. Oh, why had I not minded my mother,
and not run away from home? What was going to become of me? Must I spend
the night in this dreadful place?
I thought of my little blue and white saucer that Mrs. Darley's kind
cook filled with milk for me every noon. “Oh, meow! meow!” I cried
pitifully. “Will no one help a poor little cat?”
A skylight in the roof opened, and an old man's face looked out. Such a
kind face, but still I did not trust him, and moved away to the other
end of the ridge pole. “Little cat,” he said seriously, “there is help
even for such as you. I will go seek it,” and he disappeared.
I did not know what he meant, so I continued to cry piteously. I wanted
my mother and dear Mrs. Darley. I was too far up to be heard from the
street, but a few persons opened near-by windows, and looked at me
indifferently.
“Only a cat,” they said. “Let her get down the way she came up.”
“Oh, dear! dear!” I mewed, “must I stay on this roof till I perish from
hunger?” For now it was beginning to get dark and cloudy and to look
like rain. “Oh, meow! meow!”
Just as I was giving up hope, the skylight opened again.
“There she is, sir,” I heard the old man say, then a young man put his
head out, and looked at me.
He had a good face. I'm only a kitten, but I've found out that if a man
spends his life in doing good, he has a good face.
I trusted him, and yet I was afraid to go to him, if you can understand
that.
“Kitty,” he said soberly, “over there,” and he waved his hand toward the
heart of the city, “is a place where lost dogs and cats are sheltered.
Come to me, and I will take you to it. Come——” and he held out his hand.
“Oh, meow! meow!” I said, “if I go to you, perhaps you will throw me
away down there in that raging, horrible street.”
“No, Pussy,” he said seriously, shaking his head. “No, I never have
deceived an animal. Come here, and I will put you in a nice basket where
no one will see you, and I will carry you through the noisy street.
Here——” and he threw me a tiny piece of liver.
Now, I am very fond of nicely cooked liver. I think it is vulgar to eat
it raw. Fortunately, I caught the liver, and it did taste good, and made
me think more of the man. He still had some in his hand. I smelt it, so
I crept timidly toward him along the roof.
“Poor Pussy! poor Pussy!” he kept saying, and presently I was eating
from his hand, and he was stroking my ears as I ate. Then he stepped
back quietly into the room. He didn't try to catch me, but he put the
liver down where I could reach it.
I peeped in through the skylight. The young man and the old man were
talking. “Yes, sir,” the younger one was saying, “we've got a refuge for
dogs and cats, but it isn't half large enough. I look at the matter this
way. The animals are put in the world by the same Creator that put us
here. They've got their rights. Give them their share of room on mother
earth, and if you don't love them, and love to take care of them, and
you worship only your own selfish, old body, then take care of the
animals out of that same love for yourself.”
“That's so, sir, that's so,” and the old man nodded his head.
“Because,” the young man went on, “a neglected animal is a diseased
animal, and a diseased animal is a menace to the millionaire as well as
to the pauper. Germs of disease can't be fenced in. So I say, kill sick
and homeless creatures, if you can't get a good home for them.”
“Would you kill that cat?” asked the old man pointing to me.
As his hand pointed toward me, my nose pointed straight for the
skylight, but the young man re-assured me.
“No,” he said thoughtfully, looking me over, “that is a young, healthy
kitten, and part Angora. We'll get a home for her.”
By this time I had had enough liver, so I went smelling round the little
table where the old man kept a basin and pitcher of water, and like the
perfect gentleman that he was, he got up, and gave me a drink.
Then I went to sleep. I was dreadfully tired, and I knew that I could
trust those two men, so finding that the softest place was the middle of
the old man's bed, I jumped up there and had a beautiful nap while they
went on talking.
I didn't sleep very soundly, and as soon as the young man rose, I rose
too. He stretched out a hand, took me up gently, and put me in a nice,
lined basket. Then he covered me up, and said “Good-bye!” to the old
man.
I didn't like the basket, but I wasn't frightened. Soon I heard round me
the roar of the street, then the jarring of an electric car. Then, after
a good while, I felt that the young man was walking rapidly along
another street.
In a few minutes he stopped short, opened one door, then another, and
then the noise of the street fell away, and I heard other noises.
“Well, Mr. Green!” a woman's voice exclaimed, “here you are at last. Do
give me whatever you have got. Two urgent calls are waiting. One for a
mad dog in a yard on Tremont Street, which, of course, means a poor
wretch which has been chased till he is foaming at the mouth, and
another for a cat and kittens deserted in a cellar on Washington
Street—Do hurry.”
I felt some one take the basket and lift the cover.
“Oh! a kitten, and half Angora,” and a pleasant-faced young lady looked
down at me. “Well, she must go in the cat-room. Mercy!” and she slightly
raised her voice.
I stared about me. I was in a kind of office. There was a large desk and
many pictures of animals were on the walls. Then a nice,
motherly-looking woman came in, took me up as if I had been a baby, and
carried me into a hall, and up some stairs. She talked kindly to me all
the way up, and presently she opened the door of a room, put me down
gently, paused an instant or two to see what kind of a reception I met
with, then went away.
I gazed about me. Where was I? Was it a party? I had never seen so many
cats together, not even in the biggest yard congress on Beacon Hill.
The room was large and beautifully neat and clean. Around the walls were
boxes and baskets, and in many of them cats lay asleep. Others walked
about the room, some ran up to me—mostly young ones—and asked my name
and where I came from.
I put up my back at first, but when I saw they were all kindly disposed,
I put it down again.
“What is this place?” I asked, sitting down against the door.
“Why, this is a cats' home,” said a young thing with a yellow face.
“Have you never heard of it? Sick cats, lost cats, starved cats, bad
cats, good cats, young cats and old cats are all brought here. You're
kept several days, and if you're not claimed, you're mercifully
destroyed, or else given away. I say, do you suppose you'll be claimed?”
“Be what?” I asked.
“Be claimed. Will your folks come to look for you? I wish mine would,”
and she gazed wistfully at the door.
“I believe they lost you on purpose,” said a little white kitten
spitefully.
My new friend had to box her ears for this, so I turned to another cat
who was politely offering to show me around.
She pointed out the warmest sleeping places in the room, then she took
me out through a little swinging door to the roof-garden.
Just fancy—a roof-garden for cats. I was delighted with it. There were
little trees in boxes, and big pans of water, and a wire netting over
all to keep the cats from running away.
“No boys could chase you here,” I said.
“Oh, no,” my new friend replied. “No one chases us. It is a lovely
place, but still it has a serious drawback.”
“A drawback,” I repeated, “what is it?”
“You will see—just wait.”
I have seen. I have found out that all these cats are homesick. Now
bedtime has come, it is dreadful. They all look sad, and some of them
are moaning in their sleep. They have all been used to human beings. Cat
society is not good enough for them.
Down below in the courtyard, for this is a dogs' home as well, we can
hear the big animals crying out and howling. They are dreaming of their
dear masters and mistresses. Oh! I hope Mrs. Darley knows about this
sheltering home for animals, and that she will come in the morning to
get me. Good night, dear father Piebald Prince, and Mother
Dust-and-Ashes. I am not with you, but I hope you will sleep well, and
not think about me. Good night, Serena, and Jimmy Dory. You are often
provoking, but I love you both.