A few of my readers may know who Taffy and Tricksey are, but as more
will not I think it best to introduce them.
Taffy is the handsomest tiger cat I have ever seen, and as he has the
crook in his tail, he belongs to the Tabby breed. Taffy is very large,
usually weighing fourteen pounds, but he has a very small head, and
very small, finely shaped paws. The under parts of them look like black
velvet. In color he is jet black and the other fur very much like a
raccoon's, light tan at the ends shading into yellow, then into drab.
As the sun strikes him every hair seems full of light and he is one
mass of iridescent colors. His marking is most beautiful. The top of
his head is black branching out into five narrow black stripes down
his neck. A black stripe three inches wide (without one light hair)
going all the way down the back and to the end of the tail and under
two inches; of course, on the tail the stripe is much narrower. Then,
narrow black stripes go down each side of his back and tail. His tail
is not long, but very bushy like a nice boa. I never saw more exquisite
coloring and marking than Taffy has underneath, from his throat to his
tail. His coat is beautifully soft and thick, and shines like satin,
and his eyes are very green. He is particular about his toilet, but
insists upon my helping him to keep it glossy. His own comb is kept
on my dressing-table, and he asks me to comb him twice a day, and
sometimes oftener.
I can tell you nothing of Taffy's antecedents, as I found him one
morning in our back yard starved almost to death, and about as thick
through the body as a shingle. At first I thought he had dropped down
from Heaven, but I soon learned from his sayings and doings that he
must have been quite intimate with the inmates of the lower region. I
tempted him with chicken but it was some little time before I could
put my hand on him; and to tame any animal you must be able to touch
it with your hand. After two or three pats he seemed to realize that
I was a good friend. Soon I had him in the house and for three years
we have been devoted to each other. I have had a great many cats, but
never one who had so much of the wild animal in him. All of my friends
said I never could tame Taffy and it was many weeks before I had much
influence over him, and I never feel quite sure now whether I am to be
loved or scratched, as he still has the temper and the actions of a
tiger when anything goes the wrong way.
He usually lies down like a tiger with legs straight out in front, tail
straight out behind, and when I speak to him he will always blink his
eyes and speak to me. If you touch him in passing he will grab at your
feet and spit and growl. He never mews when he wants anything to eat,
but will chase me or my maid, and grab at our feet. If he does not like
what is given him to eat, he will walk all about his plate, and scratch
as if he were covering it up.
I am the only one Taffy ever shows much affection for, but to me he is
very loving. He will lie as long as I will let him with his paws about
my neck, and head on my shoulder. If he is sound asleep anywhere, and I
begin to read aloud, sing, or whistle, he will get directly up, jump on
my lap, put his paws about my neck, his face close to mine, and begin
to purr. As he always looks very pleasant I flatter myself he likes the
tone of my voice.
When I had my bird, Little Billie, it would make Taffy simply furious
if I put him out of my room and closed the door. One morning he was so
ugly my maid did not dare open the door to come in. After that when I
wanted him to go down stairs, I had my maid come to the bottom of the
stairs and call "Taffy!" then there was never any trouble. When he is
in a tearing rage I can always quiet him, by taking tight hold of his
paws, and kissing his eyes. I have told all of these things about Taffy
so my readers will appreciate what I have been able to do with him. It
is needless to say that when Little Billie went away, Taffy was the
happiest cat in town. His devotion increased daily to me and he lived
in my room, only going down to get something to eat.
I think by this time you are very well acquainted with Mr. Taffy, and
I will present Tricksey to you. Of all the canary birds I have ever
seen Tricksey is the prettiest, daintiest little bird you can possibly
imagine. His color is light yellow with a much deeper shade between his
wings, shading into almost an orange. His wings and tail are white with
just a line of yellow on some of the feathers. His eyes are unusually
large and bright, and his little legs and claws are very pink, and so
slender they do not look strong enough to support his finely shaped
body. Tricksey came from George H. Holden's, New York, so you will all
know he is a very superior bird and sings like an angel.
Tricksey had never been out of his cage when he came to me, but before
I had had him a week, he came out, perched on my finger, took things
from my finger or mouth, would kiss me, and go all about my room on my
finger, and very soon went all about the house with me. He was very
fond of sweet apple, but I never let him have it inside his cage, but
made him come to me for it. I kept a piece in a little dish on my table
and he soon found out where it was and would help himself on the sly.
I also kept on my table in a little china cup, some hemp seed which I
gave to Tricksey as a great treat. Every time I would tap on the cup
and make it ring, Tricksey would come out of his cage, down from a
picture frame, or wherever he was, for a seed.
One day he had had his one hemp seed, and teased for more, but I said
"no" and he went flying about the room having a fine time. Soon he
flew back on the table, hopped over to the cup, gave it two or three
taps to make it ring, then hopped on to the top, reached down and
helped himself to two seeds. Tricksey is a very vain little bird and
likes nothing better than to go over on my dressing table, walk back
and forth in front of the mirror or sit on my pin cushion and admire
himself.
Tricksey came to me one afternoon and Taffy knew nothing about his
arrival until the next morning. When he came upstairs and saw a little
yellow bird in a house of gold, he was like the little girl's Bunnie,
who "was not a bit afraid, but awfully much surprised," when she heard
firecrackers for the first time. His eyes were like balls of fire,
while his mouth opened and shut making a hissing sound, and his tail
going at the rate of a mile a minute. He walked into my room like a
wild tiger, with an air as much as to say, "If this is Little Billie
come back dressed in yellow, die he must," and sprang at the cage. I
took him firmly by the paws, looked straight into his big angry eyes
and said in a soft, firm voice, "Taffy, this is Tricksey, and he is
not to be eaten or hurt any more than my Little Billie who went away."
I let go of his paws, he walked out of my room and downstairs without
looking back. In about an hour I looked out into the hall, and there
sat my dear old Taffy on the top step looking very meek and wishful. I
spoke kindly to him and asked him to come in and see his new brother
Tricksey. After a few moments he came in very slowly and went behind my
bed. Soon he came from under the valance, (the cage sat on a chair and
I in front of it) never looked at the cage, jumped into my lap, put his
paws about my neck and began loving me. I took him to bed with me and
he never moved until Tricksey began to sing in a most delightful way,
then he looked at him and listened very intently. I talked to him, and
"smoothed his feathers," and soon he snuggled down in my arms and went
to sleep. When he got out of bed he never glanced at the cage, but went
directly downstairs, and I felt I had made a good beginning. Everyone
said I could never teach Taffy not to catch Tricksey, and the reason
his catship did not kill Little Billie was because he was afraid of
him, and so carefully watched. I knew there was not a place in the
house I could hang the cage where Taffy could not get at it if he made
up his mind to do so. Of course for days and weeks I felt anxious, and
did not mean to leave them alone together. I never turned Taffy out
of my room. If he went up to the cage and put up his paw I would say
"Taffy, you must _not_ put your paw on the cage," and as he always
minds he would take it right down, sit by the cage, and I would talk to
him kindly. Fortunately Tricksey was not at all afraid of Taffy.
Taffy always wears a yellow satin collar with bells all around. Often I
would hear him coming upstairs when I was lying down and I would keep
very quiet to see what he would do. Sometimes he would come over to the
cage, look at Tricksey pleasantly, then lie down by the fire and go to
sleep; more often he would lie down without even looking at him. But
the moment he heard me talking to Tricksey he would get up and come to
me to be petted, and I always gave him a great deal. One day when Taffy
was in another room I let Tricksey out, and tried to be very quiet.
I was sitting on the floor with Tricksey hopping about me. Before I
hardly knew it Taffy was in my lap, and soon I had Tricksey on my knee
eating seeds. If I took the cage on my lap with Tricksey inside Taffy
would immediately jump up and crowd in between the cage and me.
Taffy was very much afraid the first time he saw Tricksey take his
bath, and ran under the bed and peeped out from under the valance.
One morning the cage sat on the floor, and Tricksey was ready for his
bath, when Taffy came in and sat close to the cage. Tricksey took a big
drop of water into his bill and threw it into Taffy's face, Taffy moved
back a little and looked all about to see where it came from. While he
was looking Tricksey went into his bath, and splashed the water all
over Taffy's face in a very roguish way. To say Taffy was surprised is
speaking mildly. He turned to me with an angry cry and went out of the
room. The next morning the same thing happened; but instead of going
out of the room, he went on the other side, out of reach of the water,
but where he could see all that went on.
After that he became so interested he did not mind if the water was
splashed all over his face and would sit as close to the cage as he
could get. While Tricksey was eating his breakfast he would lie down
close to the cage and go to sleep. As I previously said I never meant
to leave Taffy in the room with Tricksey, but he was often there hours
before I knew it. When I found him he was always asleep in front of the
cage or by the fire.
One morning after the bath I put the cage up in the window. Taffy did
not seem to like it at all. He looked at me most wishfully, and began
talking cat language, and I knew he was saying, "Please put Tricksey
back on the floor." I did so, and Taffy began to sing, lay down with
his back close to the cage, stretched out and went to sleep. He had
been lying that way for an hour when some visitors came. It seemed too
bad to disturb Taffy so I left him, and thought I would risk it.
Two hours passed before I went back, and you may imagine my delight
when I found my two boys (so different in color, size and disposition)
as happy as two kittens. Tricksey was singing merrily. Taffy had
wakened, changed his position, and looked as if he felt very proud,
being left to take care of his small brother. His eyes were as soft as
velvet, and he spoke to me in a soft, cooing tone. Since then I have
never felt there was any danger in leaving them together. I regret to
say Tricksey has a strong will of his own and almost as bad a temper as
Taffy.
At different times I had three wee baby birds brought in to me, but
they all died. Tricksey was very jealous of them, and when he saw me
feeding them he would become very angry, beat his wings against his
cage, and beg for me to let him out. One day I put one of the little
strangers on the floor and let Tricksey out. He flew at the waif and
tore feathers out of the top of his head. I took the poor little
frightened thing in my hand. Tricksey flew on my finger and pecked at
him. I put him in my other hand and Tricksey flew at him more angry
than ever. Then I put him on the floor, and Tricksey was so happy he
flew on my head, hopped about my shoulders and kissed me in the mouth.
In the middle of the performance in walked dignified Mr. Taffy with a
look which plainly said, "What more are you going to bring into this
room?" He sat by my side looking at the newcomer and, before I knew
what he was going to do, reached out his paw, and gave him a good slap
which sent him off my lap onto the floor.
Early in the fall before I had any fire in my room I would bring
Tricksey down in the morning and keep him until evening, and for two
weeks Taffy never went near my room during the day, but stayed down
there with Tricksey. The first day I had a fire in my room I did
not bring Tricksey down as usual. After I gave Taffy his luncheon I
missed him, but did not go to my room until five o'clock, and there was
faithful Taffy sound asleep close to Tricksey's cage, and now he stays
in my room all day. He has plainly shown that if Tricksey stays there
he stays too.
I find that animals want to be treated very much like children. The
more intelligent they are the easier it is to influence them, and the
quicker they are to read you. First give them a great deal of love
and kindness, always be firm, very patient, and above all _never_
deceive them in the most trivial thing. I hope this little sketch of
Taffy's and Tricksey's life may be of some help to those who love cats
and dogs, but have felt they could not teach them to live in harmony
together.