FEBRUARY 19: The Cat Show
“There were cats at the Cat Show,” said daddy, “such as are never seen in any kitchen. Cats on velvet cushions who looked far too haughty ever, ever to crawl under a good old stove on a torn cushion. For at this Cat Show there were cats whose families were old and noble in the history of Catland. And cats of all colors! They were even lavender and so many other queer colors for cats to be!
“And such wonderful fur they had! It was soft and silky and combed so well. They wore bright ribbons, and their cushions matched! And they were fed the most delicious bits of meat and fish—and drank cream, real, real cream!
“But two cats were talking. One was named Royalty and the other Nobility.
“‘What do you think of the Show?’ asked Royalty.
“‘It’s about the same as most,’ said Nobility, with a yawn.
“‘How dull they are!’ snarled Royalty. And some passer-by said,
“‘That cat is so highly bred, you see. Did you notice how he snarled?’
“‘Isn’t that too absurd!’ said Royalty. ‘As if it were something very fine to be cross. I’m cross because of these people. They make such a fuss over me. They spoil me, and then some of my poor little sisters and brothers are left by these very same people to starve in the city all summer, while they go off and shut up their houses!’
“‘What do you mean?’ asked Nobility. ‘You haven’t any sisters or brothers who live in kitchens, have you?’ And Nobility’s back rose in surprise.
“‘Indeed, I have,’ said Royalty, ‘and I’m proud of it! Do you for one moment think that my family were born in Egypt or India—or Malta—or wherever they say the family came from? Do you know where my family came from? From the alleys and side streets where they used to hunt for scraps of food—almost any kind of food.
“‘Then, you see, the family were ambitious, and somehow we became kitchen cats, and we lived on milk and good food.’
“‘But how did you ever come here?’ asked Nobility.
“‘Because my little master wanted to make some money to buy a bicycle. He thought perhaps I’d win a prize at a small Show which was given at that time. He fed me up, put a ribbon around my neck, and had me sit on a purple cushion. I won a prize and I’ve been winning them ever since. I was bought for a great deal of money, and I make a lot! But what does that mean to me? Nothing! All I want to say is that if only I knew Grown-Up talk I’d say to all thesepeople that they could admire me if they wished but to please remember my sisters and brothers when the summer comes again.’”