Chapter XXXII: A Kittie Party 230 (4)

It was not many days before it became evident that the birdies were outgrowing their little home. Before their wings were well covered with feathers, they could be seen stretching them at full length, and fluttering over the nest, and one day when both Robert and Rena were out, Guy teased his mother to let him look into the nest. Mistress consented, so he took a chair out unto the piazza; but unfortunately the screen door slipped from his grasp and closed with a very loud noise. This so frightened the birdies that a regular struggle began in the little nest, and one was forced out over the side. The poor thing spread his little bare wings and tried to fly, but it was a desperate effort, and after fluttering aimlessly about, he finally landed on Buttercup’s porch. Both mistress and Guy went down in great haste to get him, but the little truant would not be caught, and his wings seemed to be gaining strength with every second of exercise. He fluttered across the street, and hovered around on the lawn, till finally Mr. Harrison picked him up and put him in a tree, and there Robert and Rena found him and took care of him. I watched him from the window-sill, and I couldn’t help having some thoughts that are hardly proper for a good cat.

By the time mistress returned to the piazza, every one of the robins had left the nest, and we cats saw them no more.

Mistress gave many anxious sighs during that afternoon, and Guy tried to comfort her as best he could. “If God takes care of the sparrows,” said he, “don’t you suppose He will also take care of the robins?”

Mistress did not speak for some moments, then she said: “Well, my boy, some day you will be leaving your home just as the birdies left theirs to-day, and dangers will surround you. Then my dear, may you lean hard on the Book wherein you read that God takes care of the sparrows.”

I am very glad I have had a chance to get acquainted with the robins, and I hope next spring they will come to us again.

XXII

NEW NEIGHBORS

In the rear of our yard there was a very tall fence post with a flat top, and on it I loved to sit in the sun and watch the chickens in the adjoining yard.

Near the chicken-coop was a kennel wherein lived Napoleon, a black shepherd dog, whom they called “Nap” for short. When I first knew Nap he was chained almost constantly, and often for days at a time he was without food or water. His howls and cries were pitiful, and all the neighbors talked about what an outrage it was to treat a dog so mean. One day our mistress called Nap’s mistress over to the fence and engaged her in a friendly talk, and after a while she asked why Nap was always chained. The lady said it was because her husband considered him a very valuable dog, and did not wish to lose him.

“Have you ever tried to bind him to his home with love and affection?” said mistress. “I have found in my experience with animals that it will forge a chain far stronger than iron.”

The lady said she would speak to her husband, and I am sure she has, for after that Nap had his meals more regularly, and he was free to roam where he pleased; and he proved himself very useful to the old hens in helping to keep strange cats out of the yard, while their chicks were small.

One Sunday morning when mistress was out in the yard with us, Nap came over to our fence barking for joy, and peeping in at us between the pickets. He seemed so happy to be at liberty. Mistress had brought a lunch out for us, and she offered him some of the meat, which he devoured greedily. I was glad to share my breakfast with him, for having known Dennis so long, I cannot help feeling very friendly toward all dogs.

But Budge and Toddy evidently did not care to share their meat with Nap, so they did what cats often do when they meet with an unpleasant surprise; they sang a song. Budge’s voice is a baritone, Toddy’s a tenor and mine a soprano. But I did not join them on this occasion.

I suppose you have often listened to cat concerts, and perhaps you have wondered why cats’ music is always so sad and doleful. The reason for this is that cats sing only when they are sad or in trouble, when they are contented and happy, they purr.

As soon as the song was ended, Napoleon began to whine, and thrust his nose between the pickets again. I think he wanted more song, but Toddy evidently thought he wanted more breakfast, for the moment his nose was well through between the pickets, Toddy made a lunge for it, and this proved to be Napoleon’s Waterloo. Before he could withdraw, his nose was a perfect network of scratches, with blood oozing out of them like so many small beads.

After Napoleon had retreated, mistress called us into the house, but in the afternoon I went out there again and jumped over on Nap’s side of the fence into the tall grass. But the old speckled hen drove me back with her cackle as she had often done before. She probably thought I was another naughty cat like Buttercup who stole her chickies; but, really, I was only looking for grasshoppers. Now, although I am not much acquainted with Napoleon, I have given him a place in my book, because I want my readers to stop and think how cruel it is to keep a dog chained all the time, and to leave him without his regular supply of food and water.

I will now tell you about Bunny, a little Manx cat that came to our house every evening at supper-time. She did not offer to stay only just long enough to get something to eat. Guy named her “Bunny” because she has only a little stump of a tail, and when running she would raise her back just like a rabbit. I think Bunny must have come from the same country that Jack did, for she was the same kind of a cat, only she was gray, just like Budge. In fact she resembled Budge so much that we were all horrified the first time we saw her. We thought it was Budge himself, and that some one had cut off his tail.

But while Toddy and I were busy smelling of the stranger, and mistress was bewailing the sad fate of her pet, in walked Budge, tail and all, carrying in his mouth a dead sparrow, which he laid at mistress’ feet with a great deal of pride. Then Toddy and I left off examining Bunny and turned our attention to the bird.

Mistress often used to say she wondered where Bunny got the rest of her meals, and where she kept herself; so one evening after Bunny had eaten her supper, Guy and I followed her; and what do you suppose we found? We traced Bunny into a vacant lot, and there under some shrubs was a little cave, dug into a bank of autumn leaves. This was Bunny’s home, and in it she had living with her five as chipper and lively little Manx cats as one could wish to see. Guy interested Don and Teddie in the little Bunnies, and the two boys brought them food mornings and noons; so that thereafter they had three square meals a day. The boys also found good homes for them as soon as they were old enough to leave their mother.

In the rear part of Mrs. Watt’s yard the grass is allowed to stand all summer so it becomes very tall. It was just a capital place for us cats to play hide-and-go-seek, and to catch grasshoppers. I heard mistress say to Charlie one day that she wondered what we cats found to interest us so much in his back yard; so I thought I would show her. The following Sunday, when she sat on the piazza, I carried a hopper up-stairs and laid him down at her feet. She was busy reading and did not notice him at once; but when he began flying around and I after him, she laid her book down and watched us. After the hopper had landed on the floor several times, and I had had several rounds with him, he seemed pretty well tired out, and remained still for a few moments. Mistress picked him up, and seeing he was not the least bit injured, she placed him on the vines, which was very nice for the hopper, but rather cruel to me, I thought. But nothing daunted, I went down-stairs and fetched another one. As I laid him on the floor mistress seemed horrified, for she thought I had mutilated him carrying him so far. She had not known up to this time where the first one came from. She was just reaching out to take my treasure from me, when Mr. Hopper flew toward the ceiling, which led her to conclude that he must be all right, and she did not interfere with me any further. Thus during the warm summer weather I had many pleasant times with my little playfellow, the grasshopper.

XXIII

OUR SUMMER OUTING

When the time came again for mistress and Guy to take their outing, they were quite puzzled what to do with so many cats.

“It was easy enough,” said mistress, “to take one cat when we traveled by boat, and went to grandpa’s. But three cats, and traveling on wheels, and stopping at hotels, is quite a different thing.”

“Perhaps you can make an arrangement with Charlie Watt to take care of them,” said Guy.

Mrs. Watt was sitting on her veranda, and before mistress went away that morning, she went over and asked whether Charlie could take care of us during her absence; and as Charlie was present and said he would be delighted to do it, his mother assented.

I was very thankful, for Charlie and his mother had always been very kind to us.

Soon after that, one morning, two gentlemen called, and mistress and Guy rode away with them. Our basket and plate had been placed in Mrs. Watt’s kitchen, and Charlie fixed us a very nice meal at dinner-time, and we played with the grasshoppers in his yard, so the first day went off all right.

But the very next day we saw what threatened to destroy our peace of mind at Charlie Watt’s. His neighbor had a great fat pug dog, who acted very ungentlemanly from the first, and tried his best to frighten us, peeping between the fence pickets and barking as loud as he could. That very morning the grocer had left our gate open, and Pug who had been watching for such a chance, came in, snorting with rage. It was clearly a declaration of war; but to my great surprise, Budge, who is usually very timid, was the first to take up arms against the enemy. With the most artistic curve in his back, and bristling his tail to suit the occasion, he started out, single-handed and alone. Of course, Toddy and I were not slow to follow such a courageous leader, and for a time the peaceful yard resembled a torrid race-track, with Pug in the lead and myself on the home-stretch.

As round after round took a little wider range, Pug was nearing the corner where the ash pile is located, and stumbling over a tin can, he fell to the ground, and we three on top of him. Being such a fat fellow, he was much more easily exhausted than we, who are lithe and agile; and once down, surrounded as he was, his defeat was complete. Nothing remained but an ignominious surrender. He crouched like the coward that he was, begging for mercy. But we did not let him off until we had thoroughly humbled him, chasing him back several times when he attempted to go, and that was the last difficulty we ever had with Pug.

One night during mistress’ absence, we heard a terrible noise, and the next morning Buttercup’s mangled and bleeding body lay in our front yard. It was said that a dog had done the awful deed.

But the cat population was not diminished by Buttercup’s sudden taking off, for on that very same morning, Daisy had a little spreckled kitty in her basket--only one. But that was enough for poor little Daisy to take care of, for she had a rattle in her throat, which Dr. Smith called “consumption.” I think that is why Daisy was not invited to go with us to Mrs. Watt’s. But Charlie gave her food and water daily at the basement window, and after Buttercup was gone, she had her own little kitten to keep her company.

We were just enjoying our vacation very nicely, when one morning Budge disappeared, and that night we could not find him anywhere, although we could hear his doleful cry coming from some place, no one knew just where. I tremble to think what would have become of poor Budge, if mistress hadn’t come home in time to save him.

Late the next afternoon she and Guy rode up to the curb. I was lying on the grass, and Toddy was in the hammock with Charlie.

As soon as I heard mistress’ voice, I rushed out to meet her, and she picked me up and petted me, and said how glad she was to get home again. Then Mrs. Watt told her the distressing news that Budge had not been seen for two days. As soon as Guy reached his room up-stairs, he heard a muffled “meow” coming out of the wall, and in reply to his name Budge answered “meow,” “meow.” In the cellar his voice could be heard very plainly, so mistress went there and tried to coax him down with a piece of raw beefsteak. He was just above the studding; having taken fright at something, and crawled up between the boards of the inside and outside wall, to the second story.

After trying for several hours to coax him down, mistress went at ten o’clock at night to get a carpenter to open the wall. The good man had already gone to bed, but he arose and came with mistress. He pried away a base board in Guy’s room, and Budge stuck his head through the opening, and mistress pulled him out. Toddy and I were very glad to have our companion with us again, and I hope another time Budge will know enough to run up a tree, instead of getting himself into such a predicament.

The day before mistress came home, a water spaniel puppy arrived from the country, that had been sent to Charlie as a present. He looked just like Dennis, and I hoped he would grow to be as good and wise a dog; but it was not to be so, for he only lived a few days after he came. They named him “Brownie.” So innocent and unsuspecting was he, he would walk right up to us cats and kiss our noses. If he had been a big handsome dog like Dennis, we would not have objected so much. But lady cats don’t care to be kissed by silly little puppy dogs. But no matter how many times Toddy scratched his face, Brownie was so forgiving; the very next minute he would go up to him again. As for Budge, whenever Brownie came near him, he growled so deep down in his throat that once mistress actually looked up into the sky and asked Guy whether he heard that thundering, and Brownie did not venture any farther. After getting several more scratches and a good many taps, he finally stayed away from Toddy. But he came to me whenever he wanted to, and I tried to teach them by my example that a little innocent, harmless puppy is not to be treated like a big, saucy, ferocious dog.

If Brownie had not disobeyed his mistress I think he would be with us still; but the day after we returned home he came into our yard between the fence pickets and helped himself to a dinner that was intended for three cats, a little more than a puppy dog ought to attempt at a single meal. But Brownie evidently thought himself equal to it, and when he went away, our plate was empty. He could not go back the way he came, but had to go around the house and through the gate. That was Brownie’s last visit to us, for that same evening, after suffering dreadful agonies in spite of all that mistress and Mrs. Watt did for him, poor Brownie lay down on the lawn and died.

I couldn’t help thinking of poor Dappledun, of whom it is written:

“He ran in clover up to his knees,
His trough was filled with stuff;
Yet he’d jump the neighbor’s fence, and act
As if he hadn’t enough.

“If only he could have been content
With his feed of oats and hay,
Poor headstrong, foolish Dappledun
Had been alive to-day.

“But one night when the rack was filled
With what he ought to eat,
He thrust his nose out of his stall,
And into a bin of wheat.

“And there he ate, and ate, and ate,
And when he reached the tank
Where Johnny watered him next morn,
He drank, and drank, and drank.

“And when that night John carried him
The sweet hay from the rick,
He lay and groaned, and groaned, and groaned,
For Dappledun was sick.

“And when another morning came
And John rose from his bed,
And went to water Dappledun,
Poor Dappledun was dead!”

Early the following morning I saw Mr. Watt carry the little stiff body out to the rear part of the yard, where he dug a deep, dark hole. There he planted Brownie just as the rays of the rising sun were gleaming over the housetop; and it seemed as though even the proud and stately hollyhocks were bending their heads in sorrow over our young friend’s untimely taking off.

So you see we had all sorts of experiences during our summer vacation.

XXIV

RAISING A FAMILY

Very soon after we had gone to Maple Road to live, one night a lot of little kittens came into my basket; I suppose the kind Providence had sent them, for it was not yet time for Santa Claus to be around again. The little things squirmed and whined most pitifully, and I covered them with my body to keep them warm.

As soon as it was daylight I took a look at my visitors, and there, behold, were six little blind, helpless creatures, two tigers, two Maltese and two black. “What will my mistress say,” thought I, “when she sees this?” I must confess I awaited her coming with some misgiving, fearing very much that she would be displeased.

When mistress opened the door in the morning I arose and went to meet her as usual, and I apologized as best I could; but she did not even seem surprised. She petted me just as she was wont to do, or if anything even more fondly, and my saucer of milk that morning tasted as if it was more than half cream. While I was eating my breakfast, Guy came out, and together they examined my kittens, and praised them. “Aren’t they beauts,” said he, as he fondled one after the other; “I wish we could keep them all.”

After breakfast mistress lifted the pad with my kittens out of the basket and made us up a fresh clean bed with an old comfortable, which was large enough to fall over the rim of the basket, and so prevented any draughts from striking my little ones. Then for many days mistress brought my food and water to me, for with so many kittens I was busy every minute washing them to keep them sweet and clean.

At the end of about ten days my kittens began to open their eyes; and to be able to crawl over each other, and over me as well. One by one, as their eyesight became stronger, they would crawl up on the comfortable and look over the edge of the basket; and very often one would step over a little too far, lose his balance and tumble over unto the floor. Then after a few minutes of groping around he would begin to cry, and I had to go and bring him back, unless Guy or mistress happened to be there.

One day I heard mistress say to Guy: “These kittens seem to be strong in their bodies but weak in their limbs, they topple over when they attempt to walk.”

“They need to exercise their limbs more,” said Guy. “They ought to have a larger place to move around in.”

Then mistress spread an old comfortable on the floor in a sheltered corner of her room, and placed a market-basket in the middle of it, in the bottom of which was a bag full of stones to keep it from falling over when the kittens should climb up on the side of it. Mistress then put the kittens on the comfortable, and in an instant they began hobbling around and in and out of the basket. I lay on the comfortable with them, and watched them with great pleasure. Whenever one got far enough away from the “gym” (as Guy called the basket) to feel lonesome, he would whine; but at my call would follow the direction of my voice, and promptly return. By degrees they became so independent that they would walk clear to the edge of the thick comfortable, tumble over the “embankment,” and meander off at their own sweet will; and so they grew daily stronger.

One pleasant Sunday when mistress and Guy were at home, the comfortable was spread on the garden lawn, with the basket upon it as usual. At first I protested most seriously against this innovation, and started to take my kittens back to their accustomed place in the house. But they had grown so large, it was impossible for me to carry them up the steps, and I had to let them stay. I soon found, however, that the radiant sunshine was as a tonic to them, filling them with joy and strength and courage, and before the afternoon was gone, I had become well pleased with the change.

Just as soon as the sunshine disappeared, Guy put the kittens into the basket and carried them back into the house, and after that I never objected when they were given an outing.

Oh, how very happy I was in those days, with my little ones basking around me in the beautiful sunshine, for even in the house mistress always saw to it that our comfortable was in a sunny place. The basket became the scene of most wonderful activity. Guy said it was horizontal bar, side horse, long horse and race-track all in one; and here were performed some remarkable acrobatic feats, all of which served to make my little ones strong and steady. Of course I was very busy training them in various ways, and first of all I took great care to teach them clean and orderly habits. In this respect mistress was always very helpful, for she left each day a little box of fresh earth beside my basket, and whenever she saw one hunt around and get into a corner, she would go after him and set him into the box, and very soon they understood what it was there for.

As soon as they were old enough I tried to teach them to lap milk with me from the saucer, and this proved to be the hardest task of all. They seemed to get the milk all up into their noses, instead of on their tongues, and it was a veritable sneezing bee. Then again some seemed to think that the saucer was a bath tub. Topsy, one of the black ones, walked deliberately into the dish, and when in the middle of it, sat down and took a sitz bath. Guy said he guessed she wanted to change her complexion. But in a few moments she landed safely on the other side. Meow Junior, one of the tigers, was satisfied to merely face about and dip his tail into the milk, much to the disgust of the rest. But in a few days they had learned to lap milk very nicely, and I thought it was time to take the next step in their education; so I carried my piece of beef to them, to teach them how to chew something solid.

When mistress saw it she was quite alarmed, and promptly took the meat away. But I persisted, fetching it back several times, till finally she let me have my way, saying that a mother was the best judge of what was good for her children. Then seeing that only one could get access to the piece, because he would growl so fiercely as to frighten the others away, she gave a piece of meat to each one. Of course, they could not chew very much as yet, and the pieces were too large to swallow whole, but it was excellent exercise for their jaws and teeth, and a pleasant pastime as well.

On the first day that my kittens began to feed from a dish, they also began to practice at washing themselves, and it was a winsome sight to watch their earnest endeavors to do their very best. I was so thankful that mistress did not forget to keep a saucer of water in a convenient place for them. Then, having made their toilet, usually they would lie down in groups of two, or three, and take their after dinner nap.

One day when I was on mistress’ bed with my kittens, Guy laid his hat down by us, and Topsy went over and lay on the crown of it. It being a soft felt, her weight caused the crown to cave in, but this seemed to suit Topsy all the better. She settled down contentedly in the little round box and began to purr so loudly as to attract the attention of the other kittens. Meow Junior, seeing that Topsy had found such a good thing, concluded to join her; and so one by one they all deserted me, and meandered in the direction of the hat. When I looked up, to my great amusement the five kittens were lying in a circle on the rim with Topsy in the middle, and the hat had the appearance of being trimmed with cats.

In telling this incident I hope I shall not set any one to thinking that kittens would make suitable ornaments instead of the poor unhappy birds that do such melancholy duty on some ladies’ hats.

Thus for many weeks I devoted myself so constantly to my little ones that mistress called me “the good little mother.”

XXV

BREAKING HOME TIES

It was with the greatest pleasure that I gave myself to the care of my babies; and oh, with what pride I watched their progress from day to day, and how very happy I felt when at my call they would cease their playing and come and rest on my bosom. But, sad to tell, to every mother there comes a cruel and relentless day, when her darlings are taken from her. When that day has come and she mourns in her loneliness and sorrow, her only comfort then is the thought that she has so trained her little ones that they will be a pleasure and a joy to the people with whom they live. I know that this is what my dear mother endeavored to do for me, and the same I tried to do for mine.

My kitties were about three months old, when one day Miss Dorothy called. Mistress called her “Mrs. Fogg,” but to me she will ever be only my dear Miss Dorothy.

She had a bunch of delicious English violets at her waist, and as she held me on her lap I became so intoxicated with their fragrance that unwittingly I bit off a few of them. When Miss Dorothy discovered that I liked them she gave me the whole bunch, and, oh! what a feast! They were the first I had had since Aunt Minnie visited us; and by the way I must tell you about that. We cats are very glad when Aunt Minnie comes, because then somebody always sends such beautiful flowers to the house. The last time they happened to be English violets, and, of course, we went up to the vase to look at them and to smell of them. Such beautiful violets! Their fragrance filled the entire room.

After dinner when Guy and Aunt Minnie came into the library, I heard her say “What’s the matter with these violets? Nothing is left of them but the bare stems.”

“I’ll be jiggered,” said Guy. “I don’t know where you’ll find them unless it’s inside of those cats.” Just then the door bell rang and Aunt Minnie’s friend came in. When they told him about the sad fate of the violets he laughed heartily, and said they would stop and get some more on the way to the concert. So I fear that the violets were not intended for our dinner.

But to return to Miss Dorothy; it was a beautiful day, and mistress brought her into the garden where my kittens were gathered around their big saucer. As each one finished he sat down and gave himself a good washing. Then they gave a quite noteworthy performance of acrobatic skill on the gym: some taking possession of the horizontal bar, while others scaled the walls, or ran a race on the edge.

I think I was the only one in the entire company that was not perfectly happy that afternoon, for I half-suspected what Miss Dorothy had come for. She carried a very suspicious looking basket with a cover on it; and sure enough, when she prepared to take leave, mistress picked up my two little tigers and carried them into the house, and in a few minutes I heard the carriage roll away. That was the last I saw of my little tigers. Oh, how my heart ached; and yet I knew perfectly well what a happy home they would have. What must a mother’s feelings be who has to see her babies taken away from her without this blessed assurance?

It was not long after Miss Dorothy’s visit, when late one evening I missed Topsy, and Jasper one of the Maltese. After searching for them in every place I could think of, I finally gave up in despair; but on the following morning I heard a very familiar sound coming from the next yard. I mounted the fence, and looking over there I saw my kittens basking in the sunshine on a big rug in Mrs. Moody’s yard. My first thought was to go and fetch them back; but the fence was very high, and the kittens were quite heavy; I had to give it up. There was one thing that worried me: Mrs. Moody’s dog Jip is a very saucy fellow; I did not know how he would treat my babies, and I kept a pretty close watch on him. But one day I saw him lying on the rug with Topsy between his paws, and Jasper on his shoulders, and after that I could no longer entertain any unkind thoughts of Jip.

A few days after this, Teddy called with his little sister Dorothy, a sweet little girl with beautiful flaxen curls. They played with my kittens for a long time, telling each other which they liked best; and as they had brought a big covered basket with them I rather surmised what they had come for. In fact I have learned to heartily dislike people who go around carrying covered baskets. But I knew that I could not keep my babies much longer, so I just tried to be brave, and resigned to my fate. Teddy said he liked the black one, but Dorothy preferred the Maltese.

“What are you going to call them, Teddy?” said mistress.

“I shall call them Punch and Judy, or some names that fit together like that,” answered Teddy.

“But how will it be next summer, when you go to the Lake Shore?”

“We will have some one take care of them while we are gone,” said Dorothy.

This satisfied mistress, and she told them they could have the kittens.

Then I went out to see if I couldn’t find another mousie for them, and after long waiting at a neighboring ash pile I finally captured one, and I hastened to bring my babies this last offering. But when I reached the garden I found my basket empty, and the old comfortable that had been our rallying place, deserted. The dreaded hour had come; I was a broken-hearted mother, bereft of all my little ones. I cared nothing more for the mousie so I let it go. Of course, I cried, and searched every nook and corner on the premises before giving up my last hope. When at last I entered the house, mistress took me up very tenderly and spoke comforting words to me, and that night for the first time in many weeks I slept again at the foot of her bed.

XXVI

A FRIENDLY CHAT

Budge has a habit of sitting on all fours with his paws curled under, his tail drawn tightly around his body, and his eyes half closed; and whenever Guy sees him in that position he says “behold the Sphinx.”

One summer evening when we three were out on the piazza, I asked Budge what his thoughts were on such occasions. “Generally about dogs,” said he. “I have been trying for a long time to think what dogs are good for anyhow, and as I can’t think of a single thing, I wonder why there should be any dogs in the world at all.”

I told Budge he must not judge all dogs by these saucy curs that come into our yard to eat up our dinner and bark at us. Said I: “Have you never heard of Owney, the Postal dog, that has traveled all over this country, bringing joy and good cheer to the hearts of the poor toiling men that work on the cars? Or of Mose, that lived for many years in an engine-house, and attended every fire, cheering on the horses and the men, and no doubt helping to save many lives? Or of Barri, the noble St. Bernard, that saved the lives of more than forty travelers who were buried beneath the snow? Or, have you forgotten our dear friend Dennis, that used to protect us from the attacks of fierce dogs when we were small kittens on Poplar Avenue?”

“I never heard of Mose or Owney or Barri,” said Budge. “I wish you would tell us more about them.”

“Well,” said I, “those were high-minded and noble animals, and useful in their day and generation.”

“That’s just what I want to be too,” said Budge.

“And so do I,” said Toddy. “But aren’t there any noble and useful cats in the world?”

“Yes,” said I: “I can mention the names of cats as well as dogs for your example: Toots Willard, for instance, who contributed over $20.00 towards the temperance cause from the sale of his photographs, and who writes letters to the Union Signal, urging and encouraging his comrades to support the good work; Meow, my namesake, who was such a joy and comfort to grandpa for seven years; and Blackie and Jack, the famous rat-catchers.”

“Now that you mention it,” said Budge, “I am reminded that there are many useful and valuable cats who have not even a name to be remembered by. Only a few days ago a lady who works in a commission house, told our mistress that they have fourteen cats in their place, and that indeed without them they could not carry on their business, for the rats and mice would ruin everything if the cats didn’t drive them away.” Here Toddy took the word:

“This reminds me,” said he, “of a story I once heard about a man who owned a warehouse, and who had four sons. In the warehouse lived a big Maltese cat named Jimmie, whose favorite resting-place was on top of the bookkeeper’s desk, where he was wont to take his daily nap. In course of time the father died, and the four sons divided the warehouse between them. They also divided the cat so that each one knew which quarter of Jimmie belonged to him. One day soon after the division the cat was bitten in the right foreleg by a rat he had caught, and as that quarter of the cat belonged to Paul, the youngest son, he bandaged it and saturated the bandage with coal oil to take out the pain. That day when Jimmie was napping on the desk as usual, the bookkeeper laid down a lighted cigar which rolled over toward Jimmie and ignited the bandage. In an instant the poor creature was enveloped in flames, and in his terrible anguish and fright he ran up and down the warehouse, so that it was set on fire, causing great damage. When all was over the brothers had a meeting, and the three agreed that as Paul’s quarter of the cat had done the damage, he ought to pay them for their loss. This Paul refused to do, and as they could not agree, the four brothers then went before a judge; and how do you suppose the judge settled it? He said it was Jimmie’s three well legs that had enabled him to run around the warehouse and scatter the fire, and not his sore one at all. And so instead of Paul paying his brothers for their loss, they had to pay Paul for his. As for poor Jimmie, he died at his post of duty a victim to man’s heedlessness.”

Another brave cat did service on the Battleship Texas in Santiago Bay, and I heard mistress read one evening how he stayed on the deck with the soldiers while the Spanish bullets went whizzing around him, and when every dog had gone whining and howling down to the bottom of the ship.

On the same occasion mistress read another piece which she cut out, saying it would be a good thing for my story. It said:

“The largest student lodging house in Ithaca burned last night. Mrs. Stilwell, the boarding-house mistress, stated this morning that she believes her life and the lives of all the occupants were saved by a favorite cat which went mewing up and down the halls. She awoke and spoke in a quieting tone to the pet, but it would not remain quiet and came into her room and pulled with its claws on the bedclothes until she got up.”

Said I “All this only goes to prove that no matter where you put a cat, whether on land or sea, amid peril or safety, if given a fair chance he will always fearlessly and honestly do his part.”

“Yes,” said Budge, taking on his sphinx-like attitude, “and what a pity these last mentioned heroes didn’t have names, so their memory could be honored and cherished by future generations of cats. But I am thankful we have such a wise cat as you for a companion, and I for one shall try and be a better and more useful cat hereafter.”

“I have already begun,” said Toddy: “don’t you remember, Budge, the other day when you did something very naughty in mistress’ room, I called you to me on the window-sill and covered myself over you so mistress could not find you? And when she came in, she was so touched by my effort to shield you from disgrace, that she did not punish you?”

“Yes,” said Budge, “and I helped you whip Pug, when he came into Mrs. Watt’s yard?”

“You have both made a very good beginning,” said I, “and if you keep on you will both leave a good example for other cats to be proud of, just as we take pride in these we have talked about.”

And now, although we are never even mentioned in the books of the proud and highly favored Angoras, still I will return good for evil and relate here an incident which I heard mistress read in a newspaper, of the valor of an Angora.

“I shook the paw of a remarkable Angora cat at the veterinary hospital the other day. He was there to recover from an attack of influenza, and looked thin and gaunt, although his yellow tail was as erect and as bushy as ever. It seems this feline is devoted to a little poodle that is his constant companion. Twice the poodle’s life has been endangered by big dogs, and in each instance this otherwise gentle cat has flown upon the foe and killed him. One would scarcely believe this gracious yellow creature was the slayer of two fierce bulldogs, but such is his record.”

XXVII

ANOTHER HOME

One day soon after Brownie’s death Dorothy and Teddy came over with Judy, their little Maltese kitty, all nicely cuddled up in a covered basket, and asked mistress if she would keep her till they returned from the Lake Shore.

“You know we promised to have some one take care of the kittens during our vacation,” said Dorothy, “and we couldn’t think of anybody that would do it better than you.”

Mistress seemed very much pleased at this. She praised the children for remembering their promise so well and told them that Judy might stay. Then she added, “But who is going to take care of Punch?”

“We intend to take him along,” said Teddy; “we would take Judy too, but mamma thinks two cats will be too much trouble.”

“Oh, no,” said mistress, “you must either take both, or leave both. If they are separated so long they will become estranged, and then they will no longer live together peaceably.”

“Then you will have to keep Punch, too,” said Dorothy.

“Rather than have them separated, I will do so,” said mistress, “but you must bring their basket and cushions, so they will have some familiar objects to attract them to this place.”

So Teddy went home and fetched Punch and the cat furniture, and while he was gone I had a little chat with Judy. She did not remember me at first, and acted quite saucy for a while. But when I told her that I was her mother, and how I had nursed her and Punch, and raised them to be the handsome cats they were, she snuggled up to me and said, “Oh, yes; now I remember: you used to wash us, and bring us mousies to play with; and I remember also the beautiful lullaby you used to sing to us:

Rockaby, hushaby, Pussy, my dear,
The dogs are all chained and there’s nothing to fear!

“Oh, how we did want our dear mother that first night in our new home! We just cried and cried till we finally dropped asleep.”

When Teddy returned, mistress fixed up a cozy corner for our little summer boarders, as she called Punch and Judy, in the kitchen.

That same evening the landlord called on mistress, and I heard him talk in a very upbraiding way about so many cats on his premises; and finally he said in a lofty and scornful tone: “You must either get rid of them, or leave the house.”

On the very next evening the trunks and boxes were brought down from the attic, and mistress and Guy started to packing as if they were going on another journey.

One morning a few days later we cats were all taken to the attic, where we stayed for a long time.

I was just raising another family, and I wondered what was going to be done with me. But soon after lunch time mistress came with a large covered wicker basket into which she put me with my kittens on a nice soft pad. Peeping through the cracks of the basket I could see her put Toddy, Punch and Judy into the laundry bag, and when we were all fixed up Guy came to fetch us down-stairs. There I discovered the moving van, all loaded, and Guy, who is very strong, mounted the wagon with us. Budge had the honor of riding a-wheel with mistress, tied securely into the Switzerland bag.

And now methinks I hear some of you say “but what became of poor sickly Daisy, and homeless Bunny?” I am happy to tell you that before we left our old home both were cared for; Daisy with her little kitty went to the beautiful and happy land where sickness never comes, and where there is a home for every cat; and Bunny and her kittens were all provided with good homes through the kindness of their friends Don and Teddy.

It was a very short ride on the moving van to our new home, and when we halted it was in front of a beautiful white cottage with a spacious vine-covered porch. Mistress met us at the door, and we were taken into a quiet room where we found some salmon already prepared for us on our own plate. Budge was there, too, acting rather shy, and going around smelling of everything with his mouth wide open. But presently Guy brought our pads and cushions from off the wagon and fixed up a comfortable place for me and my babies first, and then for the other cats.

For a time it was very noisy down below, and Punch and Judy were terribly afraid; but after a while Guy came up and took us outdoors and showed us all around. The moving van had gone, and mistress was putting the things in order. Looking across the back fence I saw a big corn-field, and some vacant lots, so I knew we should not lack for play-room; and indeed we soon found that the corn-field was an admirable place for a game of hide-and-go-seek.

When we returned into the house mistress had fitted up three nice comfortable corners for us in the kitchen, one for Punch and Judy, one for Budge and Toddy, and a nice big one for me and my babies. In the library there was a window-seat just like the one we had had on Poplar Avenue.

On the same day a young lady came whom mistress called Bettie. We thought at first she was a visitor, because she was so kind and gentle to us cats. But we soon learned that she was the housekeeper.

I have heard it said that the reason so many people leave their cats behind when they move into another house is because they believe it brings bad luck to move one.

It don’t seem to be so with our mistress; for each time she has moved so far as I know she has taken with her to the new house from three to seven cats, and each time it has been to a finer and bigger house than she had before. And now we even have a housekeeper. I should think it is more likely to be the other way: bad luck comes to people who cruelly desert helpless and dependent creatures and leave them unprovided for.

On the other hand, the notion prevails among some people, as I have heard, that it is good luck to have a cat follow you. Of course, it may be presuming too much for a cat to give her opinion so freely; but it seems to me that this good luck will only come to people who will take a kind interest in a poor stray, and who will try to find out where she belongs, or else procure another home for her.

Our new house was on Elmwood Place, and we found to our great delight that our next door neighbors were Miss Wallace, and her little Nellie that she told us about that day on the boat. Nellie is a white cat, but why this should make her think she is any better than we colored cats, I cannot understand. She would sit for hours on her window-sill, and hump her back and hiss every time one of us came in sight; so we very soon concluded that as for Nellie we wouldn’t waste any time trying to be neighborly.

Our neighbor on the other side is a little King Charles spaniel “Bosie,” which is short for Bo-Peep. If we happened to be out when he took his exercise he would nearly bark himself hoarse. But we soon gave him to understand that he was not big enough to scare us.

Across the street at Mrs. Smith’s lived “Patsy,” a water spaniel, who always came over at meal-time. If he had not been sold and taken away I dare say mistress would have been obliged to change the location of our dinner plate, for Patsy’s nose would almost cover the entire dish, and when he had eaten all he wanted there never was a mouthful left. Still we were sorry to lose Patsy, for he was more like dear old Dennis than any dog I have ever seen.

After Patsy went away, Toddy became Mrs. Smith’s particular friend. He told me he liked it over there because of the beautiful porch, with its plants and rugs and cushions; and also because Mrs. Smith was always there; whereas our own house seemed to be deserted all day long.

Punch and Judy were obliged to stay in the basement all day, because mistress feared they might go away in search of their home. I really don’t think it was necessary to keep them indoors because they would stay where their basket is when once they got used to the place; but, of course, mistress did not want to take any chances. Poor Punch and Judy! They complained bitterly at having to be housed in during that beautiful, sunshiny weather. We used to peep in at the basement windows, and it was pitiful to see how they would shift their position so as to get the full benefit of the sun’s rays that for a little while during each day meagerly brightened their gloomy abode. To be sure, mistress left them a nice lunch each day, and balls and spools to play with; and she tied strings in various places to tempt them into amusing themselves. But a homesick cat does not care much for these things. We were all right glad when Teddy came to take them back to their home, and I hope that hereafter when they go to the Lake Shore they will take Punch and Judy with them.

Among our new neighbors were Marjory and Doris, two dear little girls who often came over with their doll buggies to take my kittens out to ride; and after a nice outing they would generally sit on the porch and hold the kittens on their laps a while. Doris’ little brother George used to come over too, and sometimes he would try to hold a kitten on his lap, but the poor little thing would slide right through between his legs, which always made George feel very badly, and caused him to cry.

One evening George’s mother called, and mistress told her about the children’s play with the kittens, and how George cried because he could not hold one in his lap. At this Mrs. Gafney laughed heartily. “That explains,” said she, “why George teases me so much lately to dress him up in Doris’ clothes and make a girl of him.”

So you see we have found some very delightful neighbors in our new house.

XXVIII

BOOKER T. WASHINGTON AND ADMIRAL DEWEY

Just before we left Maple Road the kind Providence had sent me five kittens; but one day upon awaking from my nap, three were missing. I knew they could not have crawled out, for they were only a few days old, and as I looked for them I smelled the odor of that same medicine that mistress gets for homeless and sick cats. I suppose she thought I had too many to take care of; and knowing that whatever she does is for the best, I gave myself over wholly to those that remained with me.

One of my kittens was black with white toes and a white breast which mistress always called his “white shirt.” The markings on his face were so irregular that it made him look as if he had a crooked nose. But he was clever and energetic. His full name was Booker T. Washington, and I used to hear mistress say that he was every whit worthy of it. His immaculate white shirt front, together with his dignified bearing, gave him a real preacher-like appearance.