Part 1
[Illustration: MY NAME IS MEOW]
_PUSSY MEOW_:
_The Autobiography of a Cat_
_BY_ _S. LOUISE PATTESON_
_With an Introduction by SARAH K. BOLTON_
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO 103-105 SOUTH FIFTEENTH STREET
Copyright, 1901 BY GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.
_To “Guy”_
_Preface_
In the fall of 1895, while the National Convention of the S. P. C. A. was in session in Cleveland, a group of people stood in the assembly room one day discussing “Black Beauty” and “Beautiful Joe.” One expressed the hope that as the horse and the dog had now secured a public hearing, some one would be willing to undertake the same for the cat. That same evening “Pussy Meow” began writing her story. Its only object is to breathe out the joys, the sorrows and the longings of a misunderstood and much maligned fellow-creature, and to secure for her the consideration which humanity owes to the dumb.
_Cleveland, O., 1901._
_Contents_
CHAP. PAGE
Introduction 11
I. Early Recollections 17
II. Budge and Toddy 22
III. My Reasons for writing this Story 28
IV. A Pleasant Outing 34
V. Some Experiences on the Farm 41
VI. Home Again 47
VII. New Companions 52
VIII. Budge and Toddy the Second 59
IX. A Happy Home 64
X. Our Happiest Days 71
XI. Betsy Whitefoot 76
XII. Sunshine and Shadow 84
XIII. Jack 91
XIV. Christmas 96
XV. Old Blackie 102
XVI. My Great Sorrow 109
XVII. The Kind Providence 115
XVIII. A Welcome Visitor 125
XIX. A Joyful Reunion 131
XX. A New Home 137
XXI. Our Winged Friends 143
XXII. New Neighbors 151
XXIII. Our Summer Outing 157
XXIV. Raising a Family 165
XXV. Breaking Home Ties 172
XXVI. A Friendly Chat 178
XXVII. Another Home 185
XXVIII. Booker T. Washington and Admiral Dewey 194
XXIX. Two Far Journeys 203
XXX. The Burglar Man 214
XXXI. A Friend in Need 222
XXXII. A Kittie Party 230
_Illustrations_
PAGE
My Name is Meow _Frontispiece._
Guy 28
My friend Dennis 29
He crawled in and fell asleep 72
Jack 91
He told me a very interesting story 93
The two were holding a friendly talk in the garden 141
Toddy--Mrs. Smith’s particular friend 191
Booker T. Washington 194
Snowdrop 210
Hiddigeigei, Patsy, and Lady Jane Grey 230
_Introduction_
I have read with great interest this true story of “Pussy Meow,” written by one, who, in the midst of a very busy life, finds time to be a devoted friend to the speechless, and to study their nature and habits. The life of the author has been full of noble deeds for animals, and I am glad of an opportunity to say how much I wish all women would do likewise.
The book abounds in practical suggestions about the care, the food, the comfort, and the needs of the animal world, blended so pleasantly with the story that both young people and adults will find it charming and helpful. The picture of the happy home of mother and child, where cats sleep in the sun, or kittens frolic and make merry with their human friends, will linger in one’s mind long after the book is closed. Now one’s heart is touched by the pathetic death of a homeless creature, and again one laughs at the winsome and intelligent acts of our dumb companions.
After reading the book, some will remember to make their pets happy on Christmas day, rather than spend all for personal enjoyment. Some, it is hoped, when going into the country for the summer, or for a vacation, will take their cats with them, as did the writer of “Pussy Meow,” and not let them starve alone at home; or, on returning to the city, leave them on ocean beaches, or deserted mountain-tops, to die of hunger and cold.
Cats have had a varied history. In Egypt, in early times, they were loved and worshiped. At death they were embalmed, and given a costly funeral. Cambyses, the son of Cyrus the Great, when he conquered Egypt, placed a number of cats and dogs at the head of his army, and the Egyptians unwilling to kill the creatures they loved, would not defend themselves, and became an easy prey. The present Shah of Persia, it is said, has fifty petted cats, each cared for by an attendant, and these accompany him in his travels.
Cats have been loved by noted persons through the centuries. Mahomet cut off the sleeve of his robe rather than awaken the pet cat who slept upon it. Petrarch loved his cat and had it embalmed at death. Montaigne could do his best writing only when his left hand fondled his cat.
The love of sailors and soldiers for their pets is well known. In the dreadful explosion of the Maine before Havana, two of the three cats belonging to the sailors, perished, but Tom, thirteen years old, beloved by all the seamen, was saved. He was asleep three decks down, or nearly thirty feet below the upper deck. In the agony of dying men, probably nobody thought of Tom. In the morning he was discovered crying piteously, on that part of the wreck which remained above the water. Commodore Wainwright hastened to take him off in a boat to the Fern, where he was warmly welcomed.
Nothing attracted me more on the great battle-ship Indiana, battered in the war with Spain, than a basket containing a cat and five kittens, whom the sailors were shielding from the sun with a piece of canvas, and talking to them in terms of endearment.
“Take care of my cat!” were the last words of Dr. Stark, a British surgeon killed by a shell at Ladysmith, in the war with the Boers. The animal had been his constant companion.
“The cat,” as Harrison Weir says, “is not only a very useful animal about the house and premises, but is also ornamental. It is lithe and beautiful in form, and graceful in action.”
Another well-known English writer says, “There is no animal in existence more sensitive and capable of attachment than the domestic cat, or any of her progeny.”
Cats have often saved life; also houses from burning. At Geneva, N. Y., a child of three attempted to take a rattlesnake. A pet Maltese cat killed it, and saved the child. A similar thing happened in Pennsylvania.
A woman in New York City took into her house a stray and hungry cat. A year later by the explosion of a lamp, the house was set on fire. The cries of the cat aroused the owner, and thus all the inmates of the tenement house were saved.
On the Pacific Coast, the steamer Wildwood went to the bottom of the bay. There was but one man asleep on board at the time of sinking. The boat’s cat scratched the face of the sleeper, who threw her away from him. Again she scratched his face, and cried so vigorously that the man was aroused, climbed the mast, and was rescued.
Cats are often devoted to animals, as well as to persons. My own pet cat, Maltese and white, was the loving friend of my great St. Bernard dog, Bernie. When the mate of the Maltese died, the cat came to the dog, apparently for sympathy. For a year they walked together, shared their bed, and were like human friends. The dog died when six years old, and the lonely cat soon followed, and was buried beside Bernie.
We seem to be coming into a nobler civilization. Queen Victoria said at the Jubilee meeting of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals: “No civilization is complete which does not include the dumb and defenseless of God’s creatures within the sphere of charity and mercy.”
We are growing kinder to animals; homes are being provided for the homeless. There are homes for cats in Dublin, in London, and other English cities, as well as some in Egypt and India. The Gifford Sheltering Home for Animals, in Boston, is doing great good; also the Frances Power Cobbe Refuge in Indianapolis, Indiana. We are teaching our children to be kind to every living creature. May this story of “Pussy Meow” help forward the good work.
SARAH K. BOLTON.
_Pussy Meow_
I
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
I am a little pussy cat, and my name is Meow.
When I was a very small kitty, I lived with my mother and two other kittens in a nice green yard. My mother was a purple Maltese, and she used to tell us with great pride how, as a kitten, she was brought here by her mistress from old Virginia. Her name was Malta, and her children were Nora, Fluffie and Trix.
I was Fluffie.
And we had such a dear little mistress.
Her full name was Annebelle Virginia Lowery, but they called her “Virgie” for short. She had beautiful golden curls, and eyes the color of the sky when the sun shines. Her cheeks were like two little rosy cushions.
Every morning a “bus,” filled with pretty children, called to take Miss Virgie to the kindergarten, and sometimes she would take Miriam and Mildred with her. I used to wish she would take me too.
In the garden Miss Virgie had a little playhouse, in a sunny corner of which was our basket and rug, and here also lived Miriam and Mildred. On pleasant afternoons the nurse would bring Miriam and Mildred out under a big shade-tree where there was a bench and a table; and here Miss Virgie sometimes “served tea” in dainty blue china, while we kittens would frolic among the bushes and learn to climb trees. But poor Miriam and Mildred could not have any such fun as we did; they just remained seated on the bench all the time; you see they were only dollies.
My mother could climb clear up to the tops of the tallest trees, and she was allowed to go wherever she pleased, because she was so wise.
Sometimes she would be gone away a long time, and upon her return would bring a mouse or a sparrow for us, and teach us how to play with it. But our favorite plaything was her long bushy tail, of which she seemed to be very proud, and which she would twist and toss and sway before our eyes in the most tantalizing fashion. Of course, we would all take our turn at trying to catch it, but the minute we thought we had a good hold, the first thing we knew the tail would be over on the other side; and then by the time we got over there, it would be back where it was before. Many times, when, after long chasing, I finally caught hold of the elusive member, and while holding on to it with all my might, I could feel it slipping and sliding through my claws, and before I knew it had gone from me, I would see her proudly waving it in the air again.
One morning, when my mother had gone away as usual, I saw some children at play on the sidewalk, and I thought how nice it would be to be with them. It was very naughty for me to think of such a thing, because we had been told never to go outside the yard; and as neither Trix nor Nora would go with me, I went alone.
As soon as I reached the sidewalk, a big black dog came across the street and barked at me. I started to run back through the gate, but it had closed, and I hadn’t time to look for a hole to crawl through. So I ran down the sidewalk, trembling with fright.
When I had run a long way, I went into a yard, but the people there didn’t like cats; a boy was sent to chase me through the gate, and I continued my wearisome journey. How I did wish that somebody would take me up, or show me the way home; but nobody seemed to care what became of me. Finally, being so very tired, I crawled in under a fence, and seeing no one around, I lay down in the corner and went to sleep.
I do not know how long I lay there. When I awoke the moon was shining, and I continued my journey down the sidewalk, hoping to find my yard. But when after a long walk I didn’t find it, not knowing what else to do, I sat down by a tree and began to cry.
To make me still more wretched and unhappy, two boys came along, and one of them started to pelt me with stones. He was the same boy that had chased me out of his yard that very morning. I suppose he would have killed me had not a kind lady come along just at that moment. I was trying to hide behind the tree so the stones would not hit me, but as soon as the lady saw me, she called one of the boys by name. “Teddy, dear,” said she, “I am surprised to see that you will allow such a heartless thing as this to happen in your presence. Think how your mother would feel if she knew of it.”
The lady then stooped down and talked very kindly to me, and I answered her; and when she got up to go, I followed, and cried after her so loudly that she finally picked me up and took me with her. Oh, how glad I was to get away from that dreadful boy and his stones! I kissed the gloves on the hands that held me to show my thankfulness.
My lady friend had walked but a short distance when she stopped at a little house and rang the bell; but the house was dark, and it was a long time before any one opened the door. At last a lady came out, and my friend said, “Isn’t this one of your kittens?”
“Yes,” said the lady, without even looking at me, “they run away every little while.”
Then she took me out of my friend’s hands and carried me to the kitchen, and put me in a basket that had a nice soft pad in it, and some other cats. But they did not notice me, and very soon I fell asleep and forgot the day’s troubles.
II
BUDGE AND TODDY
The next morning I was still in the basket when I heard some one say: “Do look, here is a new kitten, a tiger! it must be the one I took in last night, thinking it was mine.” The voice was the same that I had heard at the door the evening before.
For a moment I feared that I should lose my nice new home; but when I saw the lady’s round, good-natured face, I knew that she could not find it in her heart to turn away a helpless little creature like me, even if she had taken me in by mistake.
After petting the other kittens a while, the lady took me up and looked into my eyes, and said I had a good face. Then a big boy came out and she put me into his arms. I trembled when he took me, for I had learned to be afraid of boys. But this boy handled me very gently, and after looking me all over carefully and pressing me fondly to his cheek, he said, “Why, mamma, this is a beautiful kitty! Won’t you let her stay?” Then he put me very tenderly back into the basket.
“She looks so much like our old Meow,” said the lady, “I think we will keep her.” You can imagine that this made me very happy.
They named me “Meow,” and the other two cats were “Budge” and “Toddy.” They were Maltese.
For a time Budge and Toddy acted anything but friendly toward me, but as they were bigger than I, I just kept very quiet, while they stood by the edge of the basket, humping their backs, bristling their tails and grinning at me to their hearts’ content. Pretty soon mistress came out with our breakfast, and they ran to meet her; but I remained in the basket until invited to join them. I was glad mistress stayed while we ate, for Budge gave an angry growl every now and then, and Toddy tried his best to crowd me out of the dish. But the breakfast tasted good just the same, because a day’s fasting had made me very hungry.
I saw at once that Budge and Toddy were very well-bred cats, for they washed themselves as soon as they had finished the meal, just as my dear mother had taught me to do. But being in a new place, and amid strange surroundings, somehow I forgot myself for a time, and while Budge and Toddy washed I just sat and watched them. When Toddy had finished, to my great surprise he came over and started to wash me too. I suppose he thought I hadn’t been properly taught because I sat and watched him instead of washing myself. But I soon showed him that he was mistaken, and I have ever since strictly observed the rule of washing after meals.
They say folks wash before meals, and that only cats wait until afterward. The reason for this is, as I have heard, that once a cat had caught a nice fat mouse, and was just going to make a dinner of her, when Mousie said: “Shame on you, to eat without first washing yourself.” So the cat stopped to wash; and while she did so, Mousie ran back into her hole.
When Budge and Toddy saw that I had really come amongst them to stay they wanted to know where I had come from, and I very gladly told them. As I talked about my proud and beautiful Virginia mother, and my sweet little mistress, Miss Virgie, and her playhouse, they kept moving closer and closer to me; and when I finished, Toddy said he hoped I would stay, and that he and Budge would do all they could to make it pleasant for me. They both begged me to forgive them for their spiteful conduct in the early morning; from that time on they acted very kindly toward me, and I was permitted to join them in their play.
I soon found that they had many cozy corners all around the yard, as well as in the house, and one of our favorite places was under the porch, where we used to go for safety. You may wonder what I mean by “safety,” when we have such a kind mistress and such a good home. I will tell you.
Mistress and the boy are away all day, and very often during those days when we were small, helpless kittens, a certain little boy would come into our yard and annoy us. He had no one to play with, and I suppose he wanted to play with us, but he didn’t know how. How I did wish that the “bus” would come and take him to the kindergarten.
Whenever he came in, if we saw him in time, we would run as fast as we could and crawl in between the latticework under the porch, and hide in there till he had gone.
As time went by the fur on my back and sides became worn very short, because I had such hard work to squeeze through. You see I grew bigger every day, and the hole didn’t.
One day our little tormentor tied a string around Toddy’s neck, fastened it to his velocipede, and then rode up and down the sidewalk, as fast as he could. And there is no telling how long he would have kept it up if a kind neighbor across the street had not come over and taken Toddy away from him.
When mistress came home that evening, they told her about Eddie’s cruelty, and as she had warned him already many times to let her kittens alone, she said she would report the case to the “Humane Agent.”
I never learned what the gentleman did, but from that day Eddie did not trouble us for a long time, and we think that next to mistress and the boy, the Humane Agent is our best friend.
But alas for poor Budge and Toddy! A few moons after I came to my new home Toddy disappeared, and we all felt very badly about it. The next day Budge went away, I suppose to look for Toddy, and he never came back. Then for several days mistress and the boy had such sad faces that it made me very unhappy. They asked the milkman and the grocer and the letter-carrier to look out for the two kittens, but we never heard anything more of them, and I was without any companions for quite a while.
As for me I rather enjoyed being alone, because mistress and the boy paid more attention to me than they had ever done before. At meal-time I was allowed to sit on a chair beside mistress, and at night I slept at the foot of her bed.
But the days seemed very long, until I became acquainted with our neighbor’s dog, Dennis, a large handsome fellow with brown curly hair and beautiful brown eyes. Although Dennis had more good things at home than any one dog could eat, for he was always burying something in his yard, yet he came to our house daily for the little titbits that mistress would give to him. But having had one unpleasant experience with a dog I kept at a distance from Dennis; till one day he proved himself a real friend. Two saucy little curs came into my yard and chased me up a tree, when Dennis, with one bound, jumped at them and drove them away, and after that he and I were the best of friends.
III
MY REASONS FOR WRITING THIS STORY
When mistress and the boy are at home, he generally reads aloud to her and at such times I usually sit on his lap or by his side. About the time Budge and Toddy went away he read a story which was written by “Black Beauty,” a horse. I thought it was rather peculiar that a horse should write a story. But Black Beauty told people how to take care of horses, how to provide for their comfort and how to sympathize with them, in doing which he set the whole world to thinking for a time about nothing but horses, and in that way did them a very good turn.
By the way, the boy’s name is Guy. His eyes are just like Miss Virgie’s, and he has beautiful flaxen hair.
[Illustration: GUY]
Before I knew Guy, I supposed all boys were rude and cruel, but I feel sure now that I was mistaken. One of Guy’s dearest friends is Teddy, who was with the boy that threw stones at me on that sad day when I was a homeless cat. Teddy came to see Guy quite often, but he always treated me very kindly. I really think it a pity that he should ever have been with that cruel boy.