"Ever see a cattery, Shireen? No, I dare say you never did; and of
course, Tabby, you never did? Well, I will tell you of the cattery in
which I was born, and there are many far less pleasant than that, I can
assure you.
"I remember it well, though it is many years ago. I don't say that I
can actually recollect the day of my birth, but I mind the days of my
kittenhood right well. And I can remember as if it were but yesterday,
the morning I and my brothers and sisters were all bundled off to a
show."
"To be sold, I suppose?" said Shireen.
"Yes, my dear," said Stamboul, "to be sold. But mind you, I don't blame
my old mistress in the least for this. She was at heart a lover of
animals; and if she kept us in a cattery, and restricted us of our
liberty to some extent, it was not altogether her fault.
"Mrs Rayne was a widow lady, and lived almost by herself in a pretty
house in the country. She had neither kith nor kin belonging to her, as
far as ever I could see. She had one faithful old man-servant and his
wife, who lived in the house and attended on her in every way. But Mrs
Rayne looked after the cattery herself. She fed us, and she gave us
milk and water."
"Thought cats never drank water?" said Cracker.
"A very great mistake, I assure you, sir," said Stamboul. "A cat won't
thrive unless she has water, and that water must be soft, and clean, and
sweet."
"Well, Stamboul," Cracker said, "a dog is never too old to learn."
"But," continued Stamboul, "I must tell you about the cattery. You see,
there was a little cottage down in the grounds, nicely shaded with trees
and all that, and with oceans of honeysuckle swelling all over the
porch, and clustering round the windows. It was only a two-roomed
cottage; but, nevertheless, Mrs Rayne conceived the notion of turning
it into a cattery, for this amiable lady had an idea that if she did her
best to improve the breed of cats in this country, she would be able to
get for them a somewhat higher place or standing as members of society.
"She had commenced by keeping a few--three I think--for her own
pleasure; but one by one they disappeared. They had been trapped,
poisoned, or shot by the keepers, so she saw that if she were to do any
good at all, she must protect her valuable cats, and at the same time
keep their breed and species select and pure. So she had a look round
the cottage one day, and was glad to find, to commence with, that it was
not damp. Dampness in a cattery is likely to give rise, directly or
indirectly, to many ailments incidental to cat-life.
"Then Mrs Rayne proceeded to furnish the cottage, after a fashion,
plainly and well. This, I may tell you, Mr Cracker, was quite as much
for her own sake as for the sake of the pussies. You see, she reasoned
thus, and very rightly too, cats have become like clogs, domesticated,
they have for countless ages given up their own wild life in the woods,
and hills, and cairns, and elected to live with mankind, and share his
joys and sorrows. In doing so, they give up, in a great measure, their
freedom; they become the willing slaves of man, the playmates of his
children, the gentle, soothing comforters to many a lonely human being,
who has nothing before him in this world except the grave. Well, then,
if pussy has done and does do all this, is it fair to keep her all her
little life like a wild beast, shut up in a cage, or banished to barn or
outhouse?
"No, and Mrs Rayne--although the cottage would be the home of the cats
_par excellence_--would often visit it and spend many an hour therein,
with her books or her knitting. She would even take her food there
sometimes, for a cat never looks upon any place as an ideal home if a
kettle never sings upon a hob by the fire, or a table is never spread
for breakfast, or for tea.
"So, when completed, the cottage not only had a nice low fire, protected
by a strong guard, to be put on when the fire was lit and no one in the
room, but there were in it a table and stools, a couch, and a nice
wicker easy-chair and footstool.
"There was a cupboard or two also, and there were brackets and
flower-stands, and a mirror or two, and nick-nacks on the mantelpiece as
well.
"In fact, this room--which was the winter end of the cottage--was so
comfortable, that no one could have told it was a cattery. The other
room was furnished as a summer-room, and needed no fireplace.
"There was in each a sanitary box of earth; but as the cats had at all
times free access to the garden by means of a little swinging door at
the bottom of the main door, this box was never used except for the
convenience of young kittens.
"You will now observe, Tabby, that Mrs Rayne, in a manner, lived among
her cats, so that she had their companionship and they had hers.
Moreover, as a special treat, she used to take one of them into the
house, frequently of a night, and whenever any cat was ailing she
treated it as kindly and considerately as if it had been a baby.
"The cat's garden itself deserves a word or two.
"You see, galvanised wire fencing is very cheap, as I dare say you,
Cracker, being a farmer's dog, know. Well, Mrs Rayne, first and
foremost, laid out the pussies' garden in front of and partly round the
cottage. She laid down a bit of a lawn; she planned walks, and planted
shrubs and flowers, for I can assure you, Cracker, we cats have an eye
for colour and effect as well. Then she surrounded the whole with a
high wire fence, covering in the top as well, so that birds might not
come in to eat pussies' food, and be eaten by the pussies in turn.
"The place was sheltered from the cast and north by a wooden fence, so
on the whole, either in winter or in summer, a more comfortable cattery
never existed to my knowledge, and I have seen a few.
"The garden was laid out then partly for effect, but partly, also, for
utility and luxury. The lawn was a delightful place for the young cats
to tumble and jump upon, when the spring and summer were in their prime,
and the grass and weed-tops, that grew on this wildery of a lawn, helped
to keep the cats in health.
"Then here and there, at different heights all round the wooden fence,
and the wire fence also, were placed shelf-seats, about eighteen inches
long, by one foot broad. On these the cats would lie and sun
themselves, or they could take exercise all round, by leaping from one
to the other.
"Among the flowers that grew around was Valerian, of which the cat is
fond, and several other pretty flowers, that appealed to pussy's sense
of smell, and gratified her eye.
"There was a filter indoors, and large, clean dishes were placed on the
floor for the drinking water, so that the furry inmates could help
themselves whenever they pleased."
"And a bit of brimstone in each dish, I suppose?" said Cracker. "A fine
thing brimstone, you bet."
"Fiddlesticks!" said Stamboul disdainfully. "Mr Cracker, I am afraid
your notions are somewhat antiquated."
"I don't know what that be," retorted Cracker. "I just speak as I've
been taught."
"True, true, my good fellow, and doubtless with the best intentions; but
then, living in the country as you do, one is bound to believe a great
many popular and foolish fallacies."
"I own to it, I own to it, Stamboul," said Cracker. "Now up north,
where I comes from, a cat ain't looked upon as much of a stunner I
'ssure you, Stamboul. They are just kept as a kind o' live mousetraps."
"Yes, I know," said Stamboul; "and they are starved under the mistaken
notion that this makes them catch mice."
"So they be. And doesn't it? I know if I were main hungry, and spotted
a fine fat rabbit dashing past, I'd soon have he, you bet, and my dinner
next, afore he were cold."
"True, Cracker, but it is also a fact that the better a cat is fed, so
long as he is not foolishly pampered and spoiled, the better a hunter he
will make. You see, Cracker, to catch mice and rats, a cat has to have
a deal of patience, and a world of cunning, and spend long nights of
determined watching. To do this he must be in form. If he is
half-starved, he is nervous, and tired, and weary; if he be hungry, then
instead of watching by the cat's run, he'll be thinking more of the
cupboard and the last square meal he had, and wondering when he will
have another. Or, it is possible enough, instead of watching at all for
master rat--and a well-bred cat won't eat a rat after all--he will
prefer to do his hunting in the nearest pigeon-loft or hen-house."
"There is a deal in what you say," said Shireen.
"Yes, I can see that," Warlock put in.
"Well," said Cracker, "I gives in to superior judgment."
"And now," continued Cracker, "is it true, Stamboul, that cats will suck
a child's breath? Mind, I'm not so far left to myself as to believe
this, although there, maybe, is some hayseed in my hair."
"A sillier notion," said Stamboul, "was never heard, and this fallacy
dates back to the days of witchcraft. Pah! out on such a ridiculous
notion, it is really too absurd to argue about."
"Well, Lady Shireen there, while telling her story, has proved in her
own experience that it isn't places so much that cats love as persons,"
said Tabby.
"That is true, Tabby, if the persons are good to them; and I really
think that people are beginning to think now, that cats are reasoning,
thinking beings, with minds differing from their own only in degree."
"If not interrupting you too much, Stamboul," said Warlock, "I have just
one word to say, having been a student of cat-life, especially of Mother
Shireen there, and my own companion and field-ranger, honest Tabby here.
Well, there is a saying, which is all too common among human beings I
think, and that is the expression, `As cross as a cat.' I've seen a cat
cross, and I've felt her claws, too, but that was when she was either
done out of her rights and starved, or put upon in some way or another."
"Glad to hear you stick up for cats, Warlock," said Stamboul.
"Oh, I just speak of cats as I find them. Now, for instance, who is it
among human beings I wonder, that hasn't noticed how fond a
well-trained, well-kept cat is of children?
"Here is a bit master read in a book the other day [`The Domestic Cat,'
by same author], and he told me that the writer had studied cats ever
since he was the height of the parlour tongs.
"`But,' says the author, `the domestic cat is _par excellence_ the
playmate and friend of childhood. What is it, indeed, that pussy will
not bear from the hands of its child-mistress? She may pull and lug
pussy about any way she pleases, or walk up and down the garden-walk
with it slung over her shoulder by the tail. If such treatment does
hurt the poor cat, she takes good care not to show it. It is amusing
enough sometimes to watch a little girl making a baby of her favourite
pussy. They are wearied with gambolling together on the flowery lawn,
and playing at hide-and-seek among the shrubbery, and pussy "_must_ be
tired," says little Alice. Pussy enters into the joke at once, and
seems positively dead beat; so the basket is brought, the little
nightcap is put on, the shawl is carefully pinned around its shoulders,
and this embryo mamma puts her feline baby to bed and bids it sleep.
There are always two words, however, with pussy as regards the sleeping
part of the contract, for little Alice never can get her baby to close
more than one eye at a time. Pussy must see what is going on. Anon the
baby "must be sick," and pussy forthwith appears as if she couldn't
possibly survive another hour. Bread pills are manufactured, and forced
down the poor cat's throat, she barely resisting. Then lullabies, low
and sweet, are sung to her, which pussy enjoys immensely, and presently,
joining in the song herself, goes off to sleep in earnest.
"`And Alice, pussy's friend, although at times she may use the furry
favourite rather roughly, is kind to her in the main. Doesn't pussy get
a share of Alice's porridge every morning? Doesn't she sup with Alice
every night? And do you think, for one moment that Alice would go to
bed without her of a night? Not she! And still this cat may be as
savage as a tiger to strangers, and even to those in the house who do
not treat her well. And let anyone else, except a child, attempt to
lift this pussy by the tail, and see what he will see.'"
"And feel what he'll feel," said Cracker; "and serve him right, says I."
"But I fear," said Shireen, "this is somewhat of a digression. You were
talking, Stamboul, of your pleasant and delightful cattery, the home of
your kittenhood."
"Yes. Well, I shall go on with my story."