A strange confession was made by a cat-lover concerning the cat of her
fireside. The confession was made publicly; in fact, in the columns
of an obscure local paper. It was to the effect that the cat had
brought in to her kittens, in one week, twenty-six field-mice, nineteen
rabbits, ten moles, seven young birds, and two squirrels--all of which
passed through her mistress's hands; there may have been others not
taken account of. It never seemed to enter the head of the cat's
mistress that any hurt was being done to other people's interests by
this poaching of rabbits, nor that any neighbouring gamekeeper might
read her words. It would be unfair to argue that all cats, with or
without kittens, are as bad as this one; we have heard of cats a great
deal worse. Naturally a mother cat forages far and wide for food; but
she hunts chiefly for small things, and knows that mice and birds
are more suitable for her weaning kittens than sitting partridges
and pheasants. It is that arch old villain, Sir Thomas, who commits
the crimes for which mother cats are blamed. But the keeper has no
hesitation in bringing home to all cats a reparation, sudden and
effective, for Sir Thomas's sins.
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