IMY mistress was not silly about me. She would say: "I am perfectly satisfied with Daisy, just as God made him. I do not presume to improve what he has made perfect. I do all I can to bring out his good points, and leave the rest to nature."
MY mistress was not silly about me. She would say: "I am perfectly satisfied with Daisy, just as God made him. I do not presume to improve what he has made perfect. I do all I can to bring out his good points, and leave the rest to nature."
Then she told me the story of "Adonis." His mistress had his ears pierced and gold earrings put in them. He wore them at home only.
That cat did suffer for his mistress's vanity, and I could not help wishing she had been the victim; for one day a lady called, bringing with her a pet dog. She said, "My dog has a lovely disposition, and will not touch your cat."
She had not calculated on Adonis having a temper, and the consequences were disastrous. Ever since his ears were pierced, Adonis had been fretful and snappish. His beautiful earrings were no pleasure to him, for he could not give them a pull without making his ears sore.
When he saw this pampered dog in his very home, he arose in his anger, and flew at the little pet in great wrath. Of course the dog retaliated, though frightened almost out of his skin. The result was, he tore out one of Adonis's earrings, making a long slit in his ear, and got repaid by having his own eyes almost scratched out.
His mistress was well paid for her cruelty in decorating her cat in this foolish manner. From a loving, happy cat he was transformed into a cross, quarrelsome creature that no one could love.
Then she cast him off and got a new plaything, this time a dog, all covered with bells and ribbons, that she could take around with her.
Poor Adonis was suffered in the house, but left to the servants, and his nice quarters given to the dog, while he was left in the kitchen, where his high temper made him disliked, and his torn and swollen ears made him an object of derision.
My mistress would say: "Never, Daisy, shall you be made miserable by such foolishness. People who treat animals in this way are not their real friends; they use them selfishly as a decoration for themselves when they might make them intelligent companions and sincere friends."
That there are many good people who appreciate animals, the stories that I have given you will prove. The story of Freida is an instance, and I can vouch for its truth.
Freida was a nice cat, aristocratic and refined in her ideas. She inherited her name from a Danish relative of her master, and brought the old home days back to memory.
She had a very beautiful home not many miles from Boston. It was a large house, and was called "The Mansion." It had a cupola where Freida could go up and overlook the high hills and see the gilded dome of the State House quite plainly.
Then there was the stable, and a beautiful flowerbed in front of the house.
It was rightly called "The Mansion," for it stood alone, surrounded by beautiful trees, and looked down with dignity on the smaller houses around it.
Freida was a very happy and fortunate cat. She had a kind master, and her mistress was very lovely and good. She was a very dear friend of Miss Milly, and was born in good old Salem, and, like all the people in that bewitching place, she thought a home was not perfect without the family cat.
All this would have been very delightful, had not a great change taken place in this charming home. But then, there would have been no story; for Freida's life would have been just like that of other cats, pleasant but uneventful.
The good mistress fell ill and was ordered a change of air, and a voyage to Europe.
I know how I felt, for I wanted my mistress to go abroad; and when her friend sent her a card decorated with wild flowers and edelweiss from Chamonix, I was just crazy to see this beautiful place that she wrote about so charmingly.
I was very wicked, I fear, for I got the card off of the table and sat upon it. I said to myself, "It is just as nice to sit upon the picture flowers as it would be to have the real ones." I thought how nice it would be to go with my mistress, for I was sure she would take me with her, and then I could run up and down the mountains just as I pleased.
When she took me on her lap, showing me the card, and told me how many miles of ocean separated her from her friend, it made me shiver at the thought of crossing it. But then, in her arms I would not be afraid to go to Jericho. I do hate water; there is too much used on me when I am washed, and I wish I could be washed with land instead.
All this is not telling about Freida, whose story I started to tell you.
The beautiful house was closed, and Freida was taken to the home of her mistress's brother near Boston. Two of her sisters, who were very fond of Freida, were there, making it homelike for her. But for all their petting she was homesick. They were obliged to keep her very close, for fear she would run away.
She was a great care to them, and one day they missed her, and on going to the furnace they saw a strange sight. A fluffy ball was turning over and over in the ashes, and on drawing it out they found it was Freida. She was almost suffocated, but the master, a charming man, just like his sister in kindness of heart, went at once for a doctor. He said they must take her where the air could blow over her, and also give her brandy.
Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, and she was a wretched creature. They worked over her for hours, and then the sisters brushed off the ashes and tended her as kindly as they would a baby. Soon she looked as nice as ever, and that cat never tried cremation again.
It proves how good and kind people can be to their dumb friends.
Poor Freida! she was destined to die in a violent manner. She returned to her beautiful home only to meet her fate.
The man who carried groceries to the house had a very gentle and kind horse. Strange to say, a friendship sprang up between Freida and this nice horse. She was always on hand to greet him every day, rubbing against his legs and showing her fondness for him in many ways, while he would put down his head for her to caress. It was a very funny sight.
One day when the man came out he turned the wagon quickly, and it crushed over poor Freida, breaking her back and killing her instantly. The man was very much troubled about it, and he said, after that, the horse would try not to go up the hill.
She was buried near the place where she was killed, and they all mourned for her, and still remember her with affection.
They have a cat now called Frity, a dignified creature, but no cat will ever take Freida's place.
My mistress said that when she was visiting there she felt as if Freida's spirit was around, and at night she could hear her voice mingling with the voices of the pines.
How much sorrow we could save our friends if we could speak! People think cats cannot understand and read character, but they can; and they know the true from the false very quickly.
We had rooms, at one time, where everything was satisfactory, and the landlady said she was very fond of cats; for my mistress would tell the people of whom she engaged rooms about me.
This woman was very nice to me before my mistress, but I could not like her at all. And my instinct was right, for when I went through her kitchen, to go out for my daily airing, she looked "daggers" at me, and said, "Scat!"
I was so provoked I walked just as slow as I could and held up my head; but she came at me with her dishcloth, and as I did not care to be hit by that dirty thing, smelling of fish, I swallowed my pride and ran away. She slammed the back door after me, and called me a "pampered brute."
I dared not show my head again for a long time. I was cold and hungry, but I had faith. I knew I should be looked for; and, sure enough, both of them came to hunt for me, the woman of the house with them, all smiles. She said: "Poor Pussy! Did it want to come in?"
I just glared at her. I wanted to say, "Itdid not want you to letitin." I thought the treatment bad enough; but to be calleditbroke the back of my belief in her.
I kept out of her way; but one morning she saw me coming in from the kitchen, and drove me upstairs with her duster. My mistress saw her, and was very indignant, though she did not say anything, but she never let me go down alone after that.
This woman had a little step-son. She kept him in from play with his friends on Saturday afternoons, to get his Sunday-school lessons, and he just hated her and the lessons, as a matter of course.
I used to play and chase my tail as if I did not know what it was, to divert his attention, for I did pity him. He was pleased, but it made him forget the long, tiresome answers. So I gave up trying to amuse him, for I did not want him to be punished. And when, after all my sympathy, he pulled and pinched my tail, I said, "He is a chip from the old block," and left him to his deceitful step-mother.
I felt very glad that, with all their sorrows and wrongs, cats never have step-fathers or mothers. It is better never to have known your own father than to have one who is always bringing you a new mother. And I guess, after all, there is just as much morality among cats as there is among human beings.
Sometimes there were days when I could not contain myself. I wanted to run and fight, and send forth my voice just as other cats were allowed to. The Bohemian blood my poor mother suffered from was answerable for this state of feeling.
At this time we lived in a flat on the fifth story of a very high building. It was a very small place, but we were passing through sad reverses just then, though I could not understand, else I would never have added to their trials.
Miss Milly would go away every day, and when she returned at night, looked so white and tired, it made me very anxious. Though she petted me, and called me her greatest comfort, she did not play with me, and her brightness was gone.
After she had gone in the morning, Miss Eleanor and I would go about and attend to our little work, and then, when she would sit down to mend the boys' clothes, she would take me in her lap and talk to me about their troubles.
The boys had both found places, and were working very hard and away all day.
We were lonesome. The kitchen had a large window, and outside there was a long wooden box made on it, and here the janitor brought fresh earth every few days, for it was my garden park and hunting ground. It was my only outing, for I never went down over the stairs. When I went out there, I was so near the sky that the earth seemed very far away. I did long for a run over the green grass.
Miss Eleanor, when it was pleasant, would take me up through a boxed-up stairway to the top of the house, where I could run a long time. It was very large, for the building covered a great space, and was gravelled over like the street. A very high wall surrounded it, so there was no chance to run away.
One night I could not sleep. I was possessed to go out. The window of our bedroom was open, and I got out into the gutter and walked along. It ran around the building and was very narrow, and I half drew back. Then I said, "Courage!" and went on till I reached the corner where the pointed tower cut me off. Then I realized my situation. I could not turn around in this narrow space, and I closed my eyes in horror. I dared not look below, the distance was so great. Above, the beautiful stars seemed to look down on me and my wickedness.
How sorry I was! No one could see me, a little gray speck, way up so high. I remained there till the morning light gave me a little courage. I tried to think of good things, and I remembered about the little sparrows that God cared for, and I trusted he would not let me "fall to the ground" for my dear mistress's sake.
She had suffered so much I did not want her to have the pain of losing me. So I just shut my eyes and turned very slowly and painfully, with many slips and strains; but my face at last was turned homeward. Then I cowered down with real vertigo. I could not take one step; but soon I braced up and crawled along till I reached the bedroom window, where I was safe.
The delight of my friends may be imagined. They had hunted everywhere for me, and Miss Milly had had almost a nervous fit, for she said: "He has fallen down and has been dashed to pieces by this time." They did not go to bed, and were waiting for the morning light to search the building.
Of course I was very much ashamed, though it proved how much they loved me. I promised myself I would never try them again; and I was frightened when I realized what a narrow escape I had had.
Then I enjoyed my good breakfast, washed myself thoroughly, and getting into my nice basket, slept all day.
But there are moments now when the horror of my situation overpowers me, and I always hear with pity about the men who mount the high buildings and church steeples. And I never, though I am a patriotic cat, desire to go to the top of Bunker Hill Monument. The picture of it satisfies me. It makes my head spin, and I have vertigo of the mind; just to think of it makes me lose my head. For a cat to lose his head is a serious matter. We might spare a piece of tail, but we need every bit of the head.
That reminds me of a cat of Miss Eleanor that really lost half of its tail. Her name was "Persimmon."
The family all laughed at Miss Eleanor for her romantic idea, and very soon the name degenerated into "Sim"—a much more appropriate one for the wild and homely creature who answered to it. She was one of Miss Eleanor's many pensioners. Somehow the mean-looking and abused always were those she selected for pets.
After they had in vain tried to find a home for Sim, she at last settled down as one of the family, to the disgust of their old and well-bred cat.
Sim had no manners, and was not in the least degree sensitive. She was a dirty white, with pale greenish eyes; and a dark shadow under them gave her a weird aspect. Miss Milly said the dark shadow was "ashes," but Miss Eleanor said it was the "shadow of deep thought." More people, however, believed in the ashes than in the thought.
She would crowd herself in where there was no room for her; and after the loss of her tail, she was more determined to assert her position than before.
It happened in this wise: Sim had a very high temper, and in a quarrel with a bigger cat than herself she was vanquished. In trying to run away she climbed the fence. The cat following could only reach her tail. It was a long one, and she struck her claws into it with such force that she nearly tore it off. Sim went about, for a few days, a sorry object, till it fell off. The remains of it only measured about two inches.
She exhibited herself on the front doorstep whenever any one called, in an unblushing manner. A friend of my mistresses, a professor of music, asked what kind of animal she was, saying he had never met just her like.
At last she made herself so disagreeable that the mother said they must dispose of her. They felt badly, but their mother's decision they never questioned.
Sim was put into a bag and given to two boys of kind and reliable natures, who promised to care for her very kindly. She was taken to the Juniper, and drowned. The boys said they would take a boat out into deep water and drop her in. The society with the long name had not then been organized, and dear good Dr. Angell had not entered upon his life-long work of protecting animals, so this method of getting rid of them was thought the most humane.
The children had been sent to Beverly, to their elder sister's, to spend the day, and their mother hoped by her cheerfulness to make them forget the cat.
About five o'clock they returned home, and on going into the sitting room who should they see but Sim, or Bobtail, as she was called, sitting by the fire, washing her face.
Their mother laughed at their surprise. She said the cat was taken away at ten o'clock, and at four she saw a shadow on the window and heard a loud mew, and on her opening the door, Sim walked in. She fed her, and since then she had spent the time washing herself—a thing she never was willing to do.
It was too late, however, for her to reform. The mother had decided on her fate, and she was doomed.
"I shall see the next time that it is a sure thing," their mother said; "as to her return, we must investigate that matter."
Later on, the boys came in. They were not told of Sim's return. They were not exactly untruthful about it, but evaded the true story. They said, when asked how far out they had taken her, that they could not get a boat, and had got rid of her on the rocks.
"Are you sure she is dead?" asked the girls.
"Dead? I guess so! Dead enough!" they both answered.
"Then here is an instance of one returned from the dead," said Miss Eleanor, bringing in Sim, who yelled and scratched as soon as she saw her would-be executioners.
Their faces were a study. "Is it Sim?" they asked in such real astonishment that no one could doubt them.
"Now, boys," the mother said, "you have deceived us; but we will listen to your story if you will tell the truth."
With shamefacedness they said they did not mean to be deceitful; they really believed she was dead. They took her down to Juniper, and while they were trying to find a boat she had burst open the bag and run off over the rocks. They followed her, and she disappeared under a rock into the water. They heard a splash, and waited some time to make sure that she was gone. It must have been a stone that fell in, while Sim escaped. They were very honest in telling their story, and they were forgiven and received their money, though the mother decided to attend to the business in her own way.
When, some days after, Sim was missing, no one asked any questions, believing that everything had been done for the best.
But how that cat found her way home is a question no one could ever answer. The boys carried her down in a wagon. The Juniper (now called the "Willows"—a famous Salem resort) was about a mile from the home she was taken from. It is a rather crooked road for one to remember. She probably hid herself and followed the boys at a distance. My opinion is that Sim just used her wits, and thought it out as we all do, and followed the trail of the wagon.
It is really a cat tail we are all sure of.
The family said that they never could go down to that pleasant resort, in after years, without thinking that Sim was hovering around in spirit. Had she been black, a witch cat, they would have felt sure of it.
IISUPPOSE I am growing old and forgetful, for memory brings things to me upside down, as I have heard old people say. All I can do about it is to tell the little incidents relating to the past as they come back to me.
ISUPPOSE I am growing old and forgetful, for memory brings things to me upside down, as I have heard old people say. All I can do about it is to tell the little incidents relating to the past as they come back to me.
For the last few days Thanksgiving has been in my mind more or less all the time, and I think you will be interested if I tell you about one that I enjoyed very much.
My mistress took me in her arms one day, saying, "Daisy, you are going to have a real Thanksgiving."
I opened my eyes wide (I know that I have very handsome eyes, and love to show them off, just as boys and girls do); for I did not know what a thanksgiving meant.
"Yes," she said, "I have just received a note from our friend, Miss W. You know her." (I winked in answer, for I did admire her.) "Every year she sends us a turkey, with a basket of goodies all cooked, ready to eat. This note tells me that she will send the basket Thursday morning. Now you do not understand what 'Thanksgiving' means, and I will explain it to you."
I settled myself comfortably on her lap; she always put on a clean white apron to keep the hairs from my coat off of her dress. I resented this, for I could not see, for the life of me, why cats' hair was not quite as good as camels' hair that her dress was made of. And I just crawled under her apron one day when she was reading, and I liked the feeling of the soft wool better than I did the cambric apron, it was so woolly and warm.
I had just snoozed off, dreaming that I was asleep between the camel's humps she had told me of, when all at once she dropped her book, saying, "Oh, Daisy, just look at my dress!" And sure enough, it was covered all over with gray hair, for I was shedding my fur fast.
I was really ashamed of myself, and said: "I am just like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. So I will just go under the bed, the best place for a 'Hyde,' and repent of my wickedness. I do not know why I do these things, but my mistress loves me all the same."
So this afternoon I sat on her nice apron, listening to her story of Thanksgiving like a well-behaved cat.
This is what she told me: That on the last Thursday of November it usually occurred. The Governor of the State made a proclamation, which was read in all the churches and published in the papers. The day was set apart for giving thanks for all the blessings God had bestowed on us during the year.
Of course I had to listen to all this, but I was awful anxious for her to get to that basket. But for once she was very tiresome, and now I am glad she was, for I have an idea of Thanksgiving I shall never forget.
Once, she said, people invited all their family, no matter how many or how poor they were, to dine. They always attended church, and then returned to a bountiful dinner of turkey, chickens, plum puddings of mammoth size, and pies of every variety. All the poor of the family would eat all they could for the present, and then fill in for the future.
The children, who never get too much, had nuts and candy in plenty, and the day was altogether lovely to them all, more particularly to those who gave than to those who received.
Now, she said, things were changed. No one invited or thought of the poor of the family, and no one went to church but the poor relations who had nowhere else to go.
Perhaps the minister preached from the text, "In my Father's house are many mansions;" that is, if he had an idea of the fitness of things,—that it would give the poor homeless ones a sure hope of the future, where perhaps those who have such nice homes here would not be as well off as the poor would be; and this Christian thought would help them bear their slights with patience.
Meanwhile the rich do not go to church. They give dinner parties to those who have money and a higher rank in society; and if one thought is given to their own flesh and blood who are poor, they wish that all the old grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts and cousins were old turkeys and chickens; then their necks would be wrung, and they would be rid of them forever, and would never be called upon to remember kindness rendered to them in the past by these same old relatives.
The sons of the family celebrate the day by a grand carousal, which leaves its mark on them for many days.
"But," she said, "we have no such days to remember, we are very quiet and sad, but very thankful for all our blessings; and you are one of the greatest. I have told you all this because I know you understand it, and I love to talk to you." (Oh my! how my heart did swell with pride when she said that.) "I want you to have a lovely time this year—a real Thanksgiving."
Of course I was all ready for it. I did not sleep much that night, and was early at the window to see the arrival of that basket. Long before it arrived I had thought long and seriously of all my mistress had told me.
I was perfectly wild when that basket came and they unfolded the turkey. I could have hugged him at once, he did smell so good, but I never moved from the hassock where my mistress placed me.
I never saw such a lot of nice dishes and beautiful things on them. Even the dessert had not been forgotten. There was such a big bunch of celery. I thought it was a tree, and that I could run up in it.
At last, after the inward cravings after that fowl had torn me almost to pieces, and my desire to be polite and good had been almost upset by the inclination to rush in and devour right and left, they carved up the turkey, and I had so many tidbits I did not know which to eat first, the head or the tail, for I had both of them.
I did do justice to that dinner, and, like a child, as I did not know when to leave off, they had to take it from me. I then laid down and slept so sound that I had the nightmare. I thought I was beset by poor relations: that an aunt was sitting on my head, an uncle on my tail, and cousins on my stomach, and they pressed me so hard that I yelled out loudly.
Miss Eleanor came to me, saying, "What is the matter?" Of course I could not tell her, but I did not want to have such visitors again. I would rather give them my dinner.
We had a very light supper, and my mistress promised me the sequel to my Thanksgiving the next day. Indeed, the sequel beat the beginning, and I thought how nice it would be always to live on sequels.
They took a big platter, and stood it on a newspaper on the floor. In it was the carcass of the turkey and all the giblets. Miss Milly said I should, for once, have a real low-minded junket.
And I did. It was like a bone-yard, with the remains all around me. I felt so generous that I would willingly have said "come" to all the poor relations in the world. They would be welcome to all the bones I had picked and all of the quack. It was lovely, but I was greased from head to foot. When tired, I seated myself on the bones, in the midst of the carcass, and my fur was glued together in places.
The work of cleaning me was something fearful. I was as patient as I could be, though I could not help jerking away a few times. Miss Milly said, "You do not look like my lovely Daisy," and it was many days before I looked like myself again.
That evening my mistress let me look at the photograph of our nice young friend. I thought it lovely and a very good likeness. I gave a little purr at it, but I suppose a gobble or a crow would have been more appropriate.
She is a very dear friend to my mistress, and I am very fond of her. When she comes in, I always keep awake to hear her talk. She is very fascinating. I do not think she cares very much for cats. I suppose it is because she does not know much about them. One thing I do know: she would be kind to them, for when I am left alone with her, she smiles at me and says, "Daisy, you are a nice cat," just the same as if my mistress were here.
Some people make so much of me before my mistress, but behind her back say, "Scat, you old cat!" There is no need for them to speak. I know them, and would not go near them on any account. Then I do wish I could speak and warn my mistress of their falseness.
One of these people called one day and brought her great boy with her. He could hardly keep his hands off of me. When my mistress took his mother into the next room, to show her some work, he lingered behind, thinking, "Now is my opportunity."
He pulled my ear and yelled "Sassage meat" in it. Whatever he meant by his "sassage meat" I did not know, but I saw my opportunity and gave him a good dig with my claws and made his cheek bleed. He bellowed well, like a real calf, and his mother looked daggers at me, for I boldly stood my ground. I would not go to my retreat under the bed, for I was not to blame.
Miss Milly was very sorry, and helped his mother wash his cheek and got court-plaster for her. After he had been coaxed and comforted, he poured forth his wrongs, saying that he was sitting quietly, when I rushed upon him and without the least provocation clawed his face.
Miss Eleanor came forward then, saying, "You are mistaken. I was in the alcove, and saw you pull Daisy's ear and yell 'sassage meat' in it, and he scratched you in self-defence." The mother was very indignant. She said, "I have always told Harold never to touch such spiteful creatures as cats." No one answered her, and she soon left with her pretty boy, and she never came again.
Miss Eleanor said she thought, as Harold was to be a lawyer,—so his mother had told her,—he would never let truth stand in his way in gaining a case.
My ear did burn from the sharp nails he had pinched it with, and I was not sorry that I defended myself, and I made up my mind that when children came to the house, particularly if they were with their parents, I would keep out of their way.
Miss Milly came to the same conclusion. She said: "Daisy shall not be subjected to a trial of this kind again; it spoils his temper and makes him rude, and then he is unhappy about it."
And I was. I had reason to remember it, for my ear was swollen, and they were obliged to put salve on it to make it heal.
Some time after this we went into the country for a short time. While there I made the acquaintance of a very intelligent cat. His name was Pedro. He was very hard to get acquainted with at first, and I was just wild to know him, for he was very handsome and dignified.
I thought of every reason why he was so cool to me. At last I said to myself: "It is my collar and padlock. He thinks I am proud." So I worked and worked till I got the padlock up on my back, and then I licked down my fur to cover my collar. Then I walked out, and after a few turns in the garden I saw Pedro on the grounds. He belonged to a very wealthy man, and the house and grounds were quite lovely.
I walked to meet him very humbly. When I said, "Good morning, Pedro," he looked me all over, and instead of answering me, he said with a scoff, "Oh, you are in disgrace, are you?"
"No indeed," I answered; "what makes you think so?"
"Because you are not in full dress, and I miss that trinket you are so proud of."
This did provoke me, and I said, "The 'trinket,' as you call my nice padlock, is on my back. I supposed it was that that made you so against me. All the cats are envious and jealous of that."
"Envious! jealous!" he hissed. "I guess I am not a mean fellow enough to be jealous of a trumpery bit of finery on a stuck-up cat."
I had to swallow to keep down my temper. As I did want his friendship, I passed over his insolence in silence.
As I turned to go home I said: "I cannot understand why you dislike me; I have been anxious to be friends with you, and have wondered if my collar and padlock had made you think I put on airs. I tried to hide this gift of my dear mistress, though it seemed treachery to her, thinking perhaps you would then be pleased with me. Now, of course, I shall never try for your friendship again."
He had been silent, but he moved about uneasily. Then he winked very fast, and at last said: "Is that really so? Did you want to be friends with me? Why, I thought of all the blue-bloodedest, old-familiest, aristocratical creeters, you were the biggest. I thought you were a cat duke or a count, and them's the creeters I despise, for I am a real democrat."
"So am I," I joyfully said, too much delighted to notice Pedro's bad grammar. "There is my paw on it, and I do hope we shall be good friends. We ought to befastfriends. As for the dukes and counts, I spell them without capitals. That is how I value them. The only likeness they have to us is that we have whiskers, with this difference: the barber makes theirs, while God made ours."
We laughed and had a jolly time over the dukes and the counts; the rest of the rabble we did not give even a small-lettered title to.
After this we met every day, and our friendship increased till Pedro confided his history to me. If ever a cat had cause to mistrust the whole world, he had, and my heart ached with pity.
It was one very pleasant morning when we had met and walked down and seated ourselves on a nice grassy mound at the end of the garden, that Pedro said, "If you would like to hear my story, I will tell it to you this morning."
Of course I expressed my pleasure, and, making myself comfortable, I prepared to give my best interest to the story.
"My mother was born in New York. While quite a small kitten she was given a nice home with people who believe that no home is complete without the family cat. She was a very large cat, striped like a tiger, with a beautiful long tail. She was amiable and affectionate.
"The people were very kind to her, and she was quite happy. They were not very wealthy, but they had great expectations. An old uncle, a very Crœsus, owned the estate they lived on, and a magnificent one adjoining, where he lived with a widowed sister. He was a childless widower, and made no secret of his intentions in regard to them.
"Of course they were not sure of his millions. He had given them a life interest, but should the children offend him, he would wash his hands of them at once. He was a rough, irascible, outspoken old man, despising shams, and a falsehood he would never forgive. He was a tender-hearted friend to animals, but his special favorites were cats.
"He was very fond of my mother, and she returned his affection. Tige, as she was called from her beautiful stripes, would run to meet him when he came to the house, walking very proudly by his side. He always noticed her kittens, always taking one for his own, while he would see that the rest were disposed of in a humane manner.
"When I was born, he made me his favorite. There were three besides myself, and we were called a very handsome family. My little brothers and sister were to be kept. Some friends of the family, who were cat lovers, were to have them, while I was to be the pet of my mother's old friend.
"My mother enjoyed us, for she was allowed to nurse us all till we were old enough to be weaned. Three of them were striped like my mother. I alone was Maltese. Probably I favored my father; never having seen him, I cannot tell.
"It was the first of July, and two of the boys belonging to the house were at home on a vacation. They were not bad boys, but were full of life. Boys will be boys, you know. They had been kind to my mother, though rather rough, and she kept her kittens out of their reach.
"We all found them changed for the worse, and I was sorry they had a long vacation. They were never still. They drove the pony in a reckless manner, and gave the poor dogs no rest.
"Tige, my mother, had always been a favorite; now, though they seemed fond of her, they were teaching her tricks all the time, making her jump over strings and hoops when she was sleepy and did not want to be troubled. And then they would take up the kittens by the tails, to hear them squeal, saying, when their mother remonstrated, that it did not hurt them.
"But I can tell you itdidhurt. Imagine being taken up by the feet, the blood rushing to the head, and then put down with a jerk, while everything would look dark around, as the blood, in flowing back, seemed to settle around the eyes. It was fearful suffering, and we did squeal well. They were never caught by the uncle in such pranks, you may be sure; they were too sly.
"My mother dreaded them and would hide us the best she could under her fur. She had no peace, for her anxiety made her afraid to leave us alone long enough to get her dinner. I know it all now, but then we were so young we did not care for anything except to cuddle up together and see which one could get the most milk out of our mother.
"The boys were to have two cousins to spend the Fourth of July with them. We could hear, from our nice basket home, all about the great preparations the boys were making to celebrate the day. All the young people living in the homes near were invited, and the uncle had spent no end of money in fireworks and Chinese lanterns and all the things boys love.
"He said, 'This is the one day of the year when children should be made happy, and they will be more likely to remember its meaning.'
"The two cousins who came were disagreeable-looking boys. All the animals on the place, from the horses and dogs down to my mother, instinctively distrusted them, for animals find out their enemies very quickly. They soon found they would have no peace while these boys were here, for the visitors were not afraid of the uncle.
"I cannot tell you the horror of the night before the Fourth of July. The boys were out till very late, and by five o'clock were again on their feet. The yelling, blowing of horns, and firing of crackers made us almost crazy. My mother would jump at every fresh noise, for, like all cats, she was of a very nervous temperament. I now believe she had a presentiment of coming events.
"We could not get one square meal. Just as we would get our lips on her breast, ready for a good mouthful, she would jump and jerk away from us; and as we had no teeth, we could not hold on; besides, the worry and fright prevented the milk from coming. My poor mother, how she suffered that night!"
Pedro paused, overcome by his feelings, while I ventured a word of sympathy.
"We had been removed from the house into one of the outbuildings, quite a good distance from where the fireworks were to be, close to the stable; and we enjoyed seeing the horses and pony come out to the great trough to drink. It was exactly opposite where we were, and was very cool, the drop by drop sounding very soothing, though we did not exactly like the water. Our removal had been the work of our kind friend, the uncle. He knew, however delightful the noise was to young America, that we did not enjoy it at all.
"All day they were around the grounds with their crackers and pistols, and the din and smell of powder made all the animals in the stable wretched; but my poor mother suffered more than all the others, with four refractory kittens to care for.
"The family had a great supper, and then, about eight o'clock, the fireworks began. They were a great success, and when nothing was left but crackers, the elder people went into the house, where the windows opening on the veranda gave them a fine view of the grounds.
"The old uncle had entered with boyish delight into all the fun, and was supposed by the boys to be in the house resting. There was a ripple of excitement as some of the boys left the fireworks to the younger ones, and stole away, as they thought, unnoticed.
"One of the cousins, a great big fellow of sixteen or seventeen, came, and taking the basket containing my mother and her four little kittens, carried it out of the shed, and put it on a rock by the side of the pump. Next, he took some straw and stuffed it in all around the sides of the basket. From behind a hedge one of the boys got a can and handed it to him, and from it he poured kerosene over the straw and all over the sides of the basket.
"I saw all this with wonder. When he took up the basket, I was hanging over the side, and fell out just before he put it down. He had not missed me, and my mother was probably so frightened and choked by the smell of the kerosene that she could not think. I was quite pleased with my liberty, though I did not know how much it would influence my fate.
"Before my mother could start up and try to remove her kittens a tramp of feet made her aware that her tormentors were approaching. She could have jumped and saved herself, but, like a true mother, she cowered down over her kittens.
"The boys were all in high glee, while the big fellow yelled out, 'Here we are, and we will show you a piece not on the bill.'
"Quick as thought he applied a match to the basket in front, while another great fellow held a burning paper to the straw at the back of the basket, and all fell back as a loud report was heard, and a volume of flames sprang up around the basket."
Poor Pedro paused, overcome for a moment, while I almost gasped for breath, soon he continued in a trembling voice:—
"One shrill scream from my mother, and the last sight I had of her was in the midst of the flames, her fur all ablaze, her eyes starting from her head, and magnified to three times her size, while three little flames around her repeated the dreadful picture in her three kittens.
"A fearful oath rent the air, and powerful hands cleared a passage and seized the basket and plunged it into the trough that chanced to be filled to the brim with water, and held it there till the flames died out, and the last sobbing breath was still forever.
"The flames had enveloped his arms, his sleeves were burned to flinders, and his hands were a fearful sight. But to me his face looked like the face of an angel, and I crawled up on his boot, with one little mew. He heard it, and in spite of his maimed hands took me up and dropped me into the pocket of his loose coat, where I knew nothing more, for my little brain was dazed at the fearful sight I had been witness to.
"He was a profane man, and they said the air was blue with the language he used. Doctor L., his great friend and physician, chanced to be near. He said, 'My dear friend, you must not get so excited; you will have apoplexy. You will never be able to use your hands again if they are not attended to at once.'
"In his anxiety to end my mother's sufferings, he had held the basket down with both hands, never thinking of his burned hands or the pain.
"'No matter,' he answered, as he glared around on all the people assembled; 'I do not need to write, to demolish all your hopes.' And he looked at the boys with hatred. 'I have but to serve a few papers as you have these poor creatures, and the money you have looked upon as your own goes to charity.—'Not one cent,' he said, while the veins in his forehead swelled up like cords, with the anguish he was suffering, 'shall ever go to one of you, for you were all in the secret, though all may not yet have reached the fearful state of cruelty of your ringleader. Call John,' he said, and when his faithful servant came, he gave him his orders, then said, 'Now, Doctor, get your things ready; you can torture me as soon as John returns.'
"An easy-chair, table, and the lotions and bandages ordered by Doctor L. were brought out, as the patient refused to move from the spot till his work was completed.
"Soon John appeared with a small iron box in his arms, taken from the safe. His master's eyes brightened when he saw him, for he was suffering great pain.
"'Now, John, take my keys from my pocket and open that box. Jane,' he said, addressing his sister, who stood by his side, anxiety for him expressed in her face, 'take from that box the package marked "My last will and testament." Now, John, clear a space, then burn every inch of that paper in the presence of these murderers and their abettors; for it is a cruel murder, and Tige shall be avenged.'
"It was done, and no one dared interfere, though some of them knew they were seeing the hopes of years fade away and perish in that heap of ashes.
"'Now,' he said to the doctor, 'dress my burns. I am satisfied.' Just then I mewed, and he exclaimed, 'Poor little orphan! Take him out of my pocket, Jane; he shall have such tender care that this dreadful scene may be forgotten.'
"The sister took me out of his pocket very tenderly, and I clung to her, while she stood by her brother and tried to help him bear the suffering caused by the dressing of his wounds. The pain was fearful, but he said it was a pleasure to bear it, knowing that he had spared poor Tige and her kittens by ending their suffering at once.
"When the basket was taken out, my poor mother was found, her fur singed off, while one side of her was completely roasted. My little brothers and sister were just singed, for their mother had tried to cover them with her body. The water had ended their lives at once. I did not see them, but I heard the people describe the horrible sight.
"By his master's orders John carried them home and buried them, after putting them in a nice box on the grounds. I will show you their grave some day before you leave.
"The uncle never forgave them. He allowed his nephew and his wife the use of the house and an annuity for life; but not one cent of his money could be used for the children.
"Their own means being small, they were obliged to give up the thought of a profession for their sons and put them into business. The uncle said very justly that no one ought to be a doctor who had no love in his heart for the dumb creatures so dependent on him for their welfare.
"He lived but two years after this, and he made me his special care. Nothing was too good for me, and I loved him with all my heart, and I know I was a great comfort to him. When I would lick the scars on his hands, I have seen the tears in his eyes, and he would smooth my fur, and say, 'Poor Tige! poor Tige!'
"He never quite recovered the use of his left hand, but he never complained; and when I was big enough I would walk out with him every day, for I distrusted every one, and made very few friends. He named me Pedro for a friend of his, a Spanish gentleman from whom he inherited some of his wealth.
"At his death he gave me to his sister, and left a large sum to be used for my benefit. He had given her a fine property and the estate where we now live. After her death it is to be used for charity and a home for animals.
"She has been very kind to me. The friends whom she has taken to live here and keep the home for her are very nice, and they understand just how I am situated. They are fond of animals, and make a great deal of me; but I can never care for people again. My mistress is not very strong, probably will not live much longer, and I hope when she dies I shall soon follow her. The horrible scene of my mother's death has taken all the pleasure of life from me. Do you wonder I do not make new friends or trust people?"
I assured him of my sympathy, saying that I hoped there were no such wicked people about now.
"Don't think that," he said; "there are hundreds of just such wicked, cruel acts committed all the time. Something should be done to stop the work now, and save the children from being murderers and criminals."
I was very unhappy over Pedro's story. I did wish my mistress could hear this sad tale, for I know that she would try to help the poor abused creatures.
I had quite an ill turn from worry of mind over this sad story, and from the internal injury that I received from the encounter with that bulldog.
My mistress was quite anxious about me. She gave me catmint tea and made me a lovely little blanket, and this with a thick shawl folded under it was placed on the lounge for my bed. I was very comfortable, and I hope a grateful cat, when I contrasted my lot with others. I did not feel (even to the dog that attacked me) any bitterness, for had he been taught better by his master, he would not have treated me like an enemy.
How can we expect a life-long prejudice, such as dogs and cats have for each other, to be uprooted, unless they are taught better by their owners and by the good examples that ought to be set before them? How can human beings boast of being better than animals?
Think of the heathen cannibals, eating human flesh. To them the fat little baby is just like a chicken. Then the Indians—did a cat ever worry a rat worse than they tortured the white men? When you think of this, can you conscientiously say we are worse, or even as bad as human beings?
There is money, and eloquence, and sympathy for the heathen; but the poor animals are left to learn without teachers what ought to be taught them, to make them the faithful servants and intelligent companions of man.
I trust the day will come when these humble friends will be as much thought of in the family as the children; there is no doubt they will fully repay all kindness done them.