Produced by Charles Franks, Juliet Sutherland, Clare
Elliott, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
THE NOMAD OF THE NINE LIVES
By A. Frances Friebe
Illustrated by Clara R. Atwood
To
Rev. Francis H. Howley
President S.P.C.A
Preface
"Uncle, why don't you write the story of your life?" So says my nephew Tom
to me when he comes in and finds me sitting in a brown study before a
comfortable fire. I have finally granted his request, for I have spent
many an hour in relating my thrilling adventures to him and am sure that
he has enjoyed them and even profited by them. Thus have I been persuaded
to write this little book in the hope that it will be interesting to
people as well as to cats.
Of course I am only a cat, but I have tried to be a good one, and I think
that a good cat is of more use in the world than a bad human being. There
is no doubt but that cats are important members of almost every household.
What is home without a cat? Great is the comfort and companionship that
have been brought by them into the lives of solitary spinsters; earnestly
and faithfully have they slaved to free homes of destructive rats and
mice, and have also protected the corn in the farmers' barns. When one
reads of the terrible loss caused by these rodents, it is astonishing to
think that their destroyers could ever be ill-used or abandoned. I shall
quote as nearly as possible from a newspaper which I once heard my master
reading, so you can see how a good many faithful cats are treated:
"There are probably few people in the city of Boston
who realize that over 25,000 abandoned cats and 3,000
dogs are electrocuted each year by the Animal Rescue
League, by means of a cage which is charged with a
strong current of electricity. After entering and the
door is closed, they die without pain or struggle. June
is the time of year that people abandon dogs, cats and
other pets, for at this time they move to the seashore
and disregard their four-footed friends, leaving them
to wander in the streets. It is the aim of the Animal
Rescue League to procure and dispose of all animals
thus abandoned and, whenever possible, they are provided
with good homes. There were 27,607 cats rescued
by the League in 1912 and each year the number
increases."
Oh, the pity of it! This little story will, I hope, appeal to many, as it
shows how keen are the sufferings of a pampered pet, thrown on its own
resources and forced to wander day by day without food or water. Surely it
may save some poor beast from misery, and I sincerely hope that it will
not have been written in vain.
CHAPTER I
The first thing I remember is that all was dark, but that I could feel a
mother's loving caress and knew that there were other helpless things in
the same box with me. After several days, something large and strong
lifted us, box and all, and carried us up into a much more pleasant place;
I can still remember how good it smelled. Upon opening my eyes the next
day, I beheld the face of my mother and found that we were seven, and were
comfortably settled at the rear of a provision store. Mother did not feel
at all safe; that I could see by the uneasy manner in which she looked
about her, and started and trembled as people came to look at us. Once, if
I remember correctly, she tried to bite a small boy who would persist in
picking me up by the tail. Her claws showed also and she took good care of
us in many like emergencies. She continued to be uneasy, and one day when
Mr. Carver, the butcher, had stepped out on business, she took us one by
one in her mouth, lifting us carefully by the nape of the neck, and
carried us back into the cellar again.
It was dark and cold and we did not like it very well, but mother cuddled
us up in her warm embrace and tried to make us feel that it was best for
us to be away from people. When Mr. Carver came back and saw the empty box
he came down into the cellar and scolded poor mother, saying, "Now, old
lady, I want you and the kittens to stay upstairs, for I am going to give
them away; besides, I want you to kill the mice which are getting into
everything up there. You may keep one of your children, however, for we
need two cats here."
Mother looked worried, but followed as he carried us up again. We remained
there after that and grew larger and more attractive, so that one by one
my brothers and sisters were given away, with the exception of Tom's
father (who stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land, to a good old
age).
Our childhood was bright and happy, for mother taught us many things and
brought us up well. I remember that there was a door leading from the rear
of the store into a garden. Sunny days mother would take us out and give
us lessons in natural history. She taught us not to kill or maim
song-birds, but said that we could kill and eat field mice or little blind
moles, although we never saw any of them. She warned us that bees and
wasps were too heating to the blood, and not to eat them, but if very
hungry, a grass-hopper was not to be sneezed at; positively no toads,
however. How we played in the garden, chasing the elusive sunbeams,
rolling over and over, and learning to box and jump! It all came to an end
too soon, however, for one day a very neat little girl came in and said
that her father, who was janitor in a grammar school, wanted a kitten,
because the mice were getting the best of him.
She picked me up and I knew at once that I should like her, as she was so
gentle (some children are very rough and squeeze one so hard).
Mr. Carver parted with me unwillingly, for, as he expressed it, "I was the
smartest one in the bunch." I said good-by to mother with tears in my
eyes, for she had been very good to me.
Once she had even defied a dog who came into the store and ventured too
near our box. I still remember how handsome she appeared with her eyes
blazing, her arched back, and her open mouth, hissing and spitting at him.
Her sharp claws could be seen outside of her velvet paws, while we,
terribly frightened, crouched low and kept quiet. The dog ran away as fast
as he could, and never returned to trouble us.
She had taught us how to catch and kill rats and mice in the stillness of
the night, and had given us many an object lesson. Thus, when we left her
we had a knowledge of these things and had also been warned not to steal,
which, living as we did, in a meat market, had been a very hard task. She
had likewise taught us to be careful of our appearance, and especially to
keep clean. This latter she showed us by wetting her paw with her tongue
and washing her face with it, and, moreover, had told us we need not go
over our heads and back of our ears unless it looked like rain (so
considerate of her, for cats, as well as boys, hate to have their ears
washed). Of course she taught us to hate water and always to step over a
puddle; to keep good company or none; and above all things not to stay out
late at night, or walk on back fences. She did not approve of voice
culture, either, but later I shall relate my sad experiences in that
direction.