I AM willing to acknowledge that until lately, when I was privileged to
entertain a cat under my roof for a fortnight, my knowledge of these
noble beings was only academic. I had read what the poets have to say
about them—Wordsworth and Swinburne, Cowper and Gray; I knew that “cat”
was the only word in the English language that had a vocative, “puss”; I
knew that Southey mourned that his kitten should ever attain to cathood,
that the Egyptians were very fond of cats and that Lord Roberts is not.
Then I had seen cats in the street, and admired the spirit with which a
homeless cat with no visible means of subsistence would put shame into
the heart of a well-fed terrier. Lying awake by night I had heard their
barbaric song ringing like a challenge in the ears of civilisation, and
had wondered whether some unknown Strauss might not revolutionise the
music of the future by aid of their passionate harmonies. But I had
never moved in their society, and therefore I would not understand them.
In those days I should probably have thought that the recent message of
the Postmaster-General to the Press, to the effect that cats of the old
General Post Office had been found comfortable homes, was trivial. And I
remember with shame that I watched the malevolent antics of the
caricature of a cat that appears in the “Blue Bird” without indignation.
I do not propose to give the events of the fortnight in detail, but
rather to summarise them for the benefit of others who, like myself, may
be called upon unexpectedly to entertain a feline guest. The name of my
visitor was Kim, though I am told that most cats are called William Pitt,
after the statesman. He was a short-haired tabby cat, some eighteen
months old, and a fine, large fellow for his age. While he was with me
he usually wore a white waistcoat, and there was a white mark on his
face, as if some milk had been spilled there when he was a kitten. His
eyes were very large and of the colour of stage sunlight, and they
haunted me from the moment when I raised the lid of the hamper in which
he arrived. They were always significant and always inscrutable, but I
could not help staring into them in the hope of discovering their
meaning. I think he knew they fascinated me, for he would keep them wide
open and full of secrets for hours at a time.
I had been informed that his name was Kim because he was the little
friend of all the world, but at the first I found him reticent and of an
independent disposition. I had always believed that cats purred when you
stroked them, but when I stroked him he would endure it in silence for a
minute and then retire to a corner of the room and make an elaborate and,
under the circumstances, uncomplimentary toilet. In my inexperience I
was afraid that he had taken a dislike to me, but one evening, after he
had been with me three days, he climbed into my lap and went to sleep.
My pipe was on the mantelpiece, and as Kim weighed over twelve pounds my
legs grew very cramped; but I knew better than to disturb him, and he
slept very comfortably till two in the morning. He repeated this
compliment on several occasions, but when I lifted him into my lap he
always got off immediately, and made me feel that I had been ill-treating
him. His choice of sleeping-places was strange. If I was reading, he
waited till I laid the book down on the table and then fell asleep on top
of it. When I was writing and he had grown weary of turning his head
from side to side to follow the birdlike flight of the pen to the
ink-pot, he loved to settle himself down on the wet manuscript and blink
drowsily at my embarrassment. Once when I ventured to lift him off he
sulked under the table all the afternoon, and I did not repeat the
experiment. He seemed to be a very sensitive cat.
Of course he was too old to play with me, but he had famous games by
himself with corks and pieces of paper. Sooner or later he would drive
these under one of the bookcases, and would sit down and mew plaintively
until I went and raked them out for him. Then he would get up and walk
away as if such toys were beneath his dignity. The one fault I found in
his character was this constant emphasis of an inferiority that I was
quite willing to confess. A generous cat would have realised that I was
trying to do my best, and would have pardoned my hundred errors of
judgment. Kim never wearied of putting me in my place, and turned a
scornful tail to my heartfelt apologies. When he was dozing in the
evening on the hearthrug he was very angry if any one put coals on the
fire, even though he had been warned beforehand of what was about to
happen. He would look at me with an air of noble reproach and stalk away
to the window, where, perched on the back of a window-seat, he would stay
for hours, patiently observant of the sounds and smells of the night.
But it was at mealtimes that he made me realise most the strength of his
individuality. I had imagined that all cats were fond of milk, but Kim
quickly disillusioned me, and it was as the result of a series of
experiments that I discovered that he would only drink new milk raised to
a certain temperature, and not then if he thought I was watching him.
For the first twenty-four hours after he arrived he would eat nothing,
though I tried to tempt him with chicken, sardines, and fillet of sole.
Once or twice he gave a little plaintive mew, but for the most part he
succeeded in giving me the impression of a brave heart enduring the pangs
of a consuming hunger with noble fortitude. At the end of that period,
when he had reduced me to despair, he relieved himself and me by stealing
a haddock. After that the task of feeding him was comparatively easy. I
would prepare him a dinner and pretend to eat it myself with great
enjoyment; then I would leave the room as if I had suddenly remembered an
appointment. When I returned the plate would be empty—that is, as empty
as a cat’s dignity will allow him to leave a plate, and a few delicate
impressions of Kim’s paws on the tablecloth would tell me that all was
well. The irritating motive that underlay this graceless mannerism was
clear to me. He would not be beholden to me for so much as a sardine,
and he was willing to steal all his meals so long as he could remain
independent. I think, too, that it amused him to undermine my moral
character by making me deceitful.
Incidentally, a cookery-book for cats is badly needed. Unlike dogs, they
are gourmets rather than gourmands, and their appetites seem to languish
if they do not have a continual change of fare. They have subtle
palates; Kim liked gorgonzola cheese and curried rabbit, but he would not
eat chicken in any form. I found anchovy sauce very useful to make a
meal savoury that Kim had not thought palatable enough to steal, and the
wise host will hold this condiment in reserve for such occasions. There
is no relying on their likes or dislikes; they will eat something with
avidity one day and reject it with infinite distaste the next.
On the whole it was a busy fortnight, and it was not without a certain
relief that I said farewell to my emotional guest and sent him back to
his owner. Designedly, as I believe, he had succeeded in making me
painfully self-conscious, so that I could not do anything without being
led to feel that in some way I was sinning against the laws of
hospitality. It was pleasant to realise that my life was once more my
own, and that I was free from the critical inspection of those
significant, inscrutable eyes. I have commented on the independence of
his character; it would be unjust if I failed to mention the one
exception. One night I was awakened by a soft paw, a paw innocent of all
claws, patting me gently on the cheek, and in the dark I was aware of Kim
sitting on my pillow. I supposed that he was lonely and put up my hand
to stroke him. Then for once in a way the proudest of sentient beings
was pleased to drop the mask of his pride and purr loudly and without
restraint. In the morning he treated me with exaggerated coldness, but I
was not cheated into believing that his friendliness had been a dream.
There are possibilities about Kim; and I believe that if he were to stop
with me for two years we should come to a very tolerable understanding.