Part 11

We told him that we had become used to being alone during the day, and what a kind mistress we had, and how we regretted her long absence. Then he told us what a long journey he made with his mistress all the way from a great city called Chicago to his present home.

“Are Chicago cats all white like you?” said Budge.

“No, indeed,” replied Snowdrop, “my very best friend and constant companion in Chicago was a black cat named Topsy. She hadn’t a white hair on her whole body; and she was the mother of two kittens, one all black with white slippers, and the other all white with black tips on her ears and tail. And beside her I knew many other cats just like these around here. So you see that Chicago cats are no different from those in other cities.”

When I asked Snowdrop how he came to leave Chicago and make such a long journey, he said:

“You see it was this way. One day a fine gentleman came to our house, and then there was a great feast with flowers and music and many beautiful ladies. But my mistress was the most beautiful of them all, for she was dressed all in white. Topsy and I were there too, all decked out with beautiful ribbons. But right in the midst of it this young gentleman took my mistress and me away. I was put in a large covered basket; but I did not mind it, so long as my dear mistress was with me. I slept all night in a chair beside her bed, and in the morning early I was again put into my basket. The next time when it was opened I stepped out of it in my present beautiful home. If only Topsy was here, my happiness would be complete.”

I told Snowdrop to come over and visit us whenever he felt homesick for Topsy, and he thanked me very kindly. But just at that moment he heard his mistress’ call, and like an obedient cat, he arose and went home.

Budge and I promised ourselves many delightful times with Snowdrop; but, sad to relate, that was the last we ever saw of him. We never knew what had become of him till one day Goldie told us that he saw a man pull Snowdrop off the porch-rail in front of his house, and walk away with him.

Of course, his mistress was heart-broken when she discovered that her pet had disappeared; and when, after every effort to find him, she finally gave him up for lost, she came over and selected my little Patsy to take Snowdrop’s place as soon as he should be old enough. But I do hope that before that time comes, Patsy’s new mistress will put up a shelf for him on her porch, high enough like ours, so passers-by cannot reach him, and behind the vines, so he can see without being seen.

Now I have told you about four far journeys instead of two.

XXX

THE BURGLAR MAN

Not very long after mistress’ return one evening just after dark a big burglar man came into our house. I knew he was a burglar because he crawled in through the window, and he went into all the rooms. Budge was terribly afraid of him and hid himself under the ice-chest; but Toddy and I followed him up-stairs to see what he would do. First he pulled down all the shades, then lighted a little lamp which he carried, and opened the closets and drawers, and mistress’ trunk. He was just about to do up some of mistress’ most beautiful dresses into a bundle, when I heard the sound of three very loud whistles on the outside. At this the man instantly dropped everything and rushed down-stairs; and just as he was running out of the back door, Bettie came in at the side.

I did so wish I was big enough to grab him like Beautiful Joe did old Jenkins, and hold unto him till she could catch him. But being only a cat, of course, I could not do it. Still, if he had touched my kittens I believe I should have summoned up all the tiger within me in my efforts to defend them.

During the evening many of our neighbors came to the house to see what the burglar had done, and from what they said I guess there is no telling what he would have taken if the whistle hadn’t sounded just when it did. For all I know he might have taken my babies too. At any rate, I concluded to put them where he couldn’t find them, if he ever came again.

Among the neighbors that called that evening was the gentleman that had brought Snowdrop from Chicago. The moment he saw my basket he inquired for Patsy, and mistress took him out and handed him over to his future master.

“Feline stock is bound to rise,” said he, as he fondly petted Patsy; “it is becoming the fashion now to have real cats in schools and kindergartens, instead of mere pictures of them.”

“Yes,” said mistress, “the many-sided usefulness of the cat is gradually becoming recognized. I had a vivid picture of her future possibilities when on a visit to a hospital for insane, where I saw sullen and turbulent men and women subdued and softened by the winsome ways of a kitten; and the feelings that its presence seemed to awaken within them seemed to me to point out a new way to ‘minister to a mind diseased.’”

The gentleman finally put Patsy back into my basket and I felt quite relieved, for I had begun to fear from the way he praised and petted him that he was going to take him away.

That night I hunted for a good hiding-place and before morning I had my darlings all safely tucked away in the basement behind the kindling.

It was no small task to carry each one down the stairs, for they were now several weeks old; but you know a mother will endure almost any hardship for the sake of her babies.

The poor little things had their rest so broken, that when mistress and Bettie came down they were still sound asleep, and I went up-stairs to get my breakfast at the usual time.

As soon as mistress missed my kittens she and Bettie began hunting for them in every nook and corner, and they looked behind the kindling pile several times; but I had put them in a hollow space away back among the kindling where they could not be seen. After a long search they gave it up, hoping they would come to light by evening, and my poor babies lay all that day on the bare stone floor.

I soon discovered that I had made a mistake, for before night their eyes were all watery, and they were sneezing a regular concert, so that when mistress returned in the evening it did not take her long to find them.

She brought them up-stairs and wrapped them in a flannel cloth. Then she fixed our basket with a nice warm blanket, and set it in a sheltered corner behind the cook-stove, and there she installed my babies in their new quarters. For many days every morning and evening she would take a basin of warm water, and with a soft cloth wash out their eyes; for the discharge would make such a thick coating as to close them up completely in a few hours. As the kittens were too small to be fed medicine with a spoon, mistress had to devise some new way of giving it to them. She dipped their paws repeatedly into a mixture called catnip tea, and, of course, they would lick it off.

But even with this ingenious invention it was some weeks before my kittens recovered from the ill effects of that unhappy day on the basement floor. I was very sorry to have caused my dear mistress so much trouble, and my poor babies so much suffering, but I did it to keep the horrid burglar man from finding them.

A few days after the burglar man had visited us, a handsome water spaniel came to the house and begged for admittance, and mistress very gladly took him in. I think the kind Providence sent him to protect us, for from that time we have never been bothered with burglars.

The dog was named Dennis, because he was the very image of our old-time friend on Poplar Avenue. He and I became good friends at once, but Budge resented his presence so bitterly that for many weeks they could not be allowed in the same room; and it was only by very slow degrees, as Budge saw that Dennis would not molest him, that he came to tolerate him.

When my little kittens had become old enough to run about outdoors, Dennis was very helpful. He would lie near the curb in front of the house, and if one ventured out from the side of the house, he would promptly drive him into the back yard. He was also fond of tantalizing us at meal-time, when his meat was thrown out on the grass for him. He would stand off, pretending he did not care for it, and just as quick as one of us would attempt to go and take it, he would come with a bound and a growl, and snatch it away from us, then drop it a little further off, and repeat the operation.

Dennis was in the habit of absenting himself from us every week for a day or two. Once he was absent several days, and upon his return wore a beautiful collar, which, however, was missing when he returned from his next trip. I suppose some folks thought they had found a nice dog, and presented him with a collar; but finding him so inconstant, they deprived him of it the next time he came around.

I must not forget to tell you of the very practical and effective way that mistress has of teaching kittens to know and respond to their names. As you probably know, she always gives a kitten a name as soon as it is born. Then, whenever she picks up one, she keeps repeating its name over and over as she pets it. She also occasionally takes one away from the rest, up to her room or into the library, and there, whether engaged in reading or writing, she looks up every little while and talks to it, always calling it by name.

And right here let me tell you, a cat with a respectable name feels a sense of dignity and self-respect that is impossible to one only known by the general name of “kitty.” Moreover, it gives him a chance to exercise promptness and obedience, qualities which are sure to endear an animal to his master, because, when he hears his name called, he can get right up and run, knowing that it means him and not some other cat.

By the way, Bettie has left us, but it was for her good that she went, and, of course, we would not be so selfish as to be sorry about it, although we miss her sorely. Ever since Bettie came, mistress gave her lessons almost every evening, and Bettie studied very industriously every spare minute. Now she has gone to work in an office and is living in a boarding-house.

“You are very foolish when you have a good housekeeper, to put such high-faluting notions into her head,” said Mrs. Cotton, upon hearing where Bettie had gone. “You might have had her for years, if you had just left her alone.”

“That’s true,” said mistress. “But the pleasure of helping one who is striving to better her condition fully repays for a little inconvenience.”

“You had her a year,” said Mrs. Cotton, “so you did better than most people do, after all. These girls are always on the move.”

“It’s because most people look upon them as a mere convenience,” said mistress, “instead of as fellow-beings with longings for happiness and advancement like ourselves. Let housewives set before their help a higher ideal and they will set in motion within them forces which will root out the ever-present longing for shifting about from place to place.”

Mrs. Cotton acted as if she did not quite agree with what mistress said. She looked at her watch and said it was time for her to go; but before leaving she came over to the bookcase where I had been sitting and gave me a few gentle strokes.

XXXI

A FRIEND IN NEED

Just before Bettie went away, mistress brought home one evening two little tiger kittens with white breasts and faces, but very thin and haggard looking, and so distrustful. I heard her tell Mrs. Wallace that she had brought them home to try and find homes for them.

“But I couldn’t recommend these kittens to anybody before I knew something of their habits,” said mistress, “for if they turned out to be troublesome it would hurt the reputation of our own kittens, and so that is why I brought them home.” Mistress named them Billee and Taffy, and started at once to put them through the usual course of training to fit them for nice homes.

Taffy was a very quiet little fellow, but Billee was quite sociable. On the day after his arrival I had occasion to do him a little favor, and in expressing his thanks to me he grew quite talkative, and told me something of his former life. Said he: “I was born in a stable that stood in the rear of some stores, and we never had a mistress like you have. Our master was very kind to his horse Jessie, and he seemed to enjoy having us cats around after we got old enough to play. But the old stable was so infested with fleas, we never had a moment’s peace; and my poor mother became thin and gaunt trying to keep herself and us looking respectable. That bath last night, I dreaded it at first; but when I saw those fleas floating around in the suds I thought I ought to be able to stand it for their sakes. If my mother could have a bath like that and a brushing, and then lie down peacefully on our clean soft pad, it would be bliss unheard of to her. But she will never leave that dirty old stable so long as she and Jessie can share it together, and indeed I don’t think she could have a more devoted friend; for many a cold night did we sleep in Jessie’s stall cuddled close up to her warm, sleek body. Near our stable was a big hotel where our mother got daily many choice bits of meat and fish, and this is how she made her living and raised her kittens; and I tell you it was pretty hard work for her to carry enough food for so many hungry little mouths.”

“How many were there of you?” said I.

“Six,” said Billee, “beside our dear mother, who always gave us the best she had of everything.”

On the very same evening that mistress brought the little kittens home, curiously enough we had another new arrival, a Maltese cat with white markings. She came up the sidewalk in front of our house crying as if in great distress. Mistress invited her into the house to have some supper, but it was evident that hunger was not the cause of her crying, for she did not touch a morsel of food. When mistress examined her more closely, she found to her horror that the poor thing’s breasts were greatly swollen, and that evidently, some one had robbed her of her kittens. Then mistress picked up the two little new kittens, and laid them on the pad by the old cat; and instantly the little things began to nurse her, and were soon purring a happy song of thankfulness. The “stepmother,” as mistress called the strange cat, washed each kitten in true mother fashion, and for several days enjoyed real mother bliss.

All this was very nice for the “stepmother,” but it proved disastrous to the kittens, for both took sick and died. After that mistress rubbed the old cat’s breasts daily with spirits of camphor, and in a few days she seemed to be all right.

I asked the “stepmother” one day how she came to leave home at such a critical time, and she unburdened to me a tale of cruelty and abuse that is almost beyond belief. She said that there being no other place provided, her kittens were born in the laundry basket, and that on the next morning when they were discovered, the lady ruthlessly dumped them out on the bare stone floor and ordered her son to come and drown them. “So my poor babies were dropped into a bucket of cold water right before my eyes,” said she, “and I was powerless to save them.”

“Pray, who are these people,” said I, “that treated you in this manner?”

“Their name is Morton,” said she, “and Will was the one that did the deed; but he is not to blame. I remember years ago when he was a most tender-hearted little fellow, and full of sympathy toward the suffering. I shall never forget one bitter cold day when a kitten followed him home from school and he carried it into the house and begged to be allowed to keep it. His mother let it remain till Will’s bedtime arrived, when she compelled him to put it outdoors, where it cried bitterly for hours; and the next morning it was found on the doorstep, frozen to death. And now that same mother wonders why her son is so hard-hearted and brutal toward her.”

“I’ve heard of the Mortons before,” said I, “and I don’t blame you for leaving them. But you are in good hands now--don’t fear.”

So the “stepmother” remained with us a few days longer, and then she was taken by mistress to a beautiful home, where they wanted a cat to live in the stable with the coachman.

One cold day last winter, there strayed into our basement two strange cats, both tigers, but very unlike each other. One was sleek looking, full-grown with beautiful, large eyes, and very confiding in manner. The other was a shy, timid, shrinking little creature, afraid of everybody, and yet hunger evidently had driven her to seek help at our door. Her coat was so rough and dirty, it was difficult to tell what its real color was, and one eye was completely gone from its socket. She was indeed a pitiable sight, and I dare say very few people would have allowed her to enter their door. Mistress prepared her a plate of salmon, and the moment she smelled the odor, she began to dance around as if she could hardly wait till it was ready. When at last the plate was handed down to her she stepped into it with both paws, and ate as greedily as any dog I ever saw. Mistress let her have the dish all to herself, and fed the rest of us from a different plate.

As soon as the poor creature’s hunger was appeased, without stopping to wash, she went into a dark corner behind the cook-stove and lay down to rest. While she thus lay there, mistress said to Bettie, “It seems to me the kindest thing we can do to this poor creature is to gently put her to sleep and end her troubles.”

“I think so, too,” said Bettie; “no one would care to have such an unsightly animal around the house. She will never be anything but a hapless vagabond, to whom death would be a blessing.”

But after all the little stranger was allowed to spend a few days of real happiness, and when one morning we missed her, we knew that she had gone to her long resting-place and was saved from further sorrow.

As to the big cat, mistress said she felt sure that she must be somebody’s pet, and she told Bettie not to let her out under any circumstances.

Several days afterward Budge told me that during the first night of the big cat’s stay with us she confided to him that her reason for leaving her home was the fact that a new housekeeper who had lately come, had just made her life unendurable; and that in utter despair she had wandered away not knowing whither to go.

The very next day after the stranger arrived she became the mother of five kittens. I dread to think what would have become of the poor thing and her helpless babies on that cold winter night, if mistress hadn’t allowed her to stay. But no doubt the kind Providence directed her safely to our door.

A day or two after the little kittens came, there was a notice in the newspaper: “Lost, strayed or stolen, a full-grown tiger cat. Leave at ‘The Elms’ and get reward.” When mistress saw it she sent word to “The Elms” and they sent the coachman, who identified the cat and took her and her kittens home, wrapped up in a Buffalo robe and tucked in a laundry basket which he had brought in the coupé. The people at “The Elms” were so grateful to mistress for sheltering their pet that they sent her a basket of beautiful flowers.

Of course, it is not to be expected that every lady will turn her house into an asylum for stray cats; but I have often heard mistress say, and so I believe it is true, that many parents would have less cause to mourn over selfishness and ingratitude in their children if they would set a more generous and unselfish example before them in their own treatment of dumb and helpless creatures.

XXXII

A KITTIE PARTY

When my kittens were of the proper age mistress proposed they should have a chance to see all their little friends, so we sent out invitations like this:

“Meow will give a coming-out party on Saturday next from two till six, to her kittens Hiddigeigei, Lady Jane Grey and Patsy, assisted by Booker T. Washington, Mollie Scott, Budge and Goldie.”

The happy day came at last, sunshiny and bright, as if it had been made expressly for our party, and at the appointed hour came also our little guests. There were Marjory, Winifred, George and Doris, and my new friends Frances, Arline, Earl, Lillian and Burt. These, with Booker, Goldie, Budge, myself and the kittens, made just sixteen in all.

[Illustration: HIDDIGEIGEI, PATSY AND LADY JANE GREY]

Mollie Scott was also invited, but she did not come. After it was all over she called and excused herself, saying she had never attended a party, and didn’t know just how it would be; but that she had spent most of the afternoon on the back fence, taking note of what was going on, and that she thought another time she would venture to try it. Said I, “The way to learn to do a thing is to do it, and you have probably missed the chance of your life.”

At this Mollie gave me a very solemn look, and as she turned to go I heard her mutter something to herself about “no use crying over spilled milk.”