Part 3

At this I showed him the color of my teeth, and the length of my claws, and he immediately retreated, his tail drawn tightly between his legs.

“What next?” you say. Well, I chased some grasshoppers, and caught a fly or two, and by that time we had to return to the boat to resume our journey.

At the hotel mistress met some friends, who were going on the same boat, and welcome ones they were, for they were the first people we had met on our entire journey that did not “exclaim” at seeing a cat in the party.

The one I liked best of all was Miss Wallace, a very lovely young lady, who held me on her lap nearly all the time. I was very thankful to her, for it was better than being out where I would get my tail pulled and umbrellas poked into my side. Miss Wallace told us about her kitty at home, Nellie, of purest white; and she said she was just homesick to see her, because she had been away over a week.

“I suppose, of course, you left her in somebody’s care,” said mistress.

“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Wallace, “I would not think of such a thing as leaving her uncared for.”

I was not at all surprised to hear Miss Wallace’s answer, for I knew the moment I saw her gentle face and soft brown eyes, that she had a tender and sympathetic heart. I think I must have taken a nap on her lap, for it seemed in a very little while the boat stopped at the landing whence I had started on my first trip a few weeks before.

The street cars took us quickly to the little brown house on Poplar Avenue, which is dearer to me than any farm, hotel, or floating palace that I have ever seen. Dennis received us with a joyous bark, and with that merry wag of his tail which speaks such volumes of happiness. My cushion, my pad, and the dear sunny porch were more precious to me than ever before. Only one thing worried me! I had grown too big for the hole through which I used to crawl in under the porch, and wondered where I would go for safety in case of danger. But I soon found that Dennis was all the “safety” I needed, for he stayed with me nearly all the time; and whenever any bad boys or dogs came into our yard he promptly chased them out with that powerful bark of his. And I found him to be a very useful as well as agreeable companion.

There is a beautiful song which I have often heard, that there is no place like home, but I never really understood the meaning of those words until I had been away from my home and my friend.

So you see I was doubly thankful, first because mistress took me with her on her vacation, and second because I had such a happy home-coming.

VII

NEW COMPANIONS

One morning soon after we returned from the farm Guy brought into the house, dripping wet, a little Maltese kitty, which he said he found crying in a vacant lot on his way to school. My heart went out to the poor little thing, shivering with cold and frightened, and coming from no one knew where.

Mistress rubbed the kitty’s coat dry with a towel, and smoothed it all out with a coarse comb. Then she fixed her a nice warm bed in a little basket, and in a short time she dozed off into a nap. As I sat looking at the little stranger I was reminded of the time when I was taken into this dear home in just about as sorry a plight, and I made up my mind to give her a better welcome than I had received from Budge and Toddy.

Her nap over, the little kitty looked as plump and bright as anything, and mistress named her “Beauty.” She was a talkative little creature, and before the day was over had told me her whole history. Said she, “My home is in a grocery store, where I have been living with my mother and three other kittens in a barrel. This morning our master gave me to a boy to take home to his sister. But he squeezed me so hard, I scratched him, and then he threw me out on the wet grass and walked away.”

“How cruel,” said I, “but don’t think that all boys are like him, for I know some that are just as kind as anybody.”

“Then I tried to go back and find my mother,” said Beauty, “and I went up to the door of a place that looked like my home, but as I stood there crying, a man came out and picked me up very harshly, and threw me out onto the sidewalk. It seemed as if all the world were against me, and I tried to crawl away to a place where no one would find me, when a boy came along who picked me up very tenderly, and it was he who brought me here.”

I told Beauty of my own experience as a homeless cat and bade her be thankful that she had fallen into such good hands.

During the evening we played together by the beautiful moonlight, but all at once I missed her, and when mistress called us in for the night I was the only one to respond. I have no doubt that Beauty went to look for her mother.

After Budge and Toddy left, mistress tied a pretty colored ribbon around my neck, with the street and number, 127 Poplar Avenue, plainly written on it in black ink. She had also tied one around Beauty’s neck, and for this reason she expected that Beauty would be returned. But we looked for her in vain.

One evening when mistress and Guy were talking about Beauty, mistress said: “I presume she has found a home; I only hope it is a good one.”

“I don’t think it is,” said Guy. “Anybody that would steal a cat would not treat her well after he got her.” And I think he was right, for it was just as bad as stealing, to keep a cat that had the street and number written on his necktie. How foolish Beauty was to leave such a good home.

Not many days after Beauty’s departure, a little girl brought us a light colored tiger kitty, which she said she had found in front of a vacant house, cold and hungry, and she brought her to us because she thought it was our little Beauty.

Mistress petted the little thing, and praised the little girl for being so kind and thoughtful in trying to find its home. She asked the little girl to take it to her own home and keep it, but she said her mother would not permit her to have a kitty because they lived in a flat, or she would be only too glad to keep it. So then, rather than have the little thing turned out without a home, mistress allowed it to remain, and she named it “Beauty” after the last one.

On the following morning one of our neighbors, having seen two strange kittens in the yard within so short a time, said to mistress: “What are you keeping over there, a cat refuge, or a hospital?”

“Why both,” said mistress. “I wouldn’t turn a stray cat away, much less a sick one.”

The lady said no more.

The little stranger seemed so thankful for a nice warm basket (I shared mine with her) she hardly left it the entire day, except to go to her meals. She would lap a whole saucer full of milk, and ask for more, and mistress fed her till she had all she wanted. I tried to find out where she had lived, but she seemed to feel so grieved at the way she had been treated, that it was fully three days before she finally consented to talk about it. Then she told me that the folks all left the house and all the things were loaded on a wagon and taken away. Said she, “I waited day after day on the doorsteps hoping they would come back. All I had to eat was what I could find in the ash pile, and nights I crawled into an old stovepipe.”

This was so much worse than anything I had ever experienced, or even heard of, I hadn’t a word to say in reply.

But evidently the cold and hunger that she had suffered had had their effect on little Beauty. Although she had the best of care, still a few days later she was taken so very ill one night that it caused her to groan most pitifully; and in the morning when Guy came down, her lifeless form lay on the floor, cold and stiff.

Mistress very tenderly wrapped the little dead body in some soft white tissue paper, and put it in a box, and Guy buried it in the rear of the yard, marking the spot with a stake on which he printed:

“SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF BEAUTY.”

Then mistress planted some mignonette and pansies on the spot, and Guy fenced it in with pieces of arched wire, so that it made a nice little flower-bed.

After it was all over I heard mistress say to Guy: “Aren’t you glad we have been kind to this little creature during the few days of her life that she was with us?”

“I was just thinking how sorry I would be if I hadn’t been kind to her,” said Guy. “Yesterday when she whined so I was tempted to put her out, but I am glad now I didn’t; I guess she was sick then.”

“Yes,” said mistress, “when animals act ill-natured or fretful, it is generally because they are not well; and instead of being impatient with them, we ought to be all the more tender, and see whether we cannot find out the cause of their trouble, and relieve them.”

For several days after Beauty’s death I was again without a companion, but I wasn’t so lonesome as at first when Budge and Toddy went way, because I had Dennis; and besides, it was still lovely summer weather. I used to sit on the window-ledge and watch for the school-children to come by; and when I saw them, it made me very happy, for I knew then that I would soon see my friend Guy. As soon as he came into the yard I’d jump down and go into the house with him, and generally he would give me some of his bread and milk. Then he would practice a while on his violin, and I dearly loved to listen to the music. Sometimes he would mow the lawn and water it. He always had everything very nice for mistress when she came home. If only he could have stayed at home all day, Dennis and I couldn’t have wished for a dearer companion.

VIII

BUDGE AND TODDY THE SECOND

About a month after the death of Beauty, a little girl came one day with four tiny kittens in a basket, some tigers and some Maltese, and I heard her beg mistress to adopt one of them.

Mistress said at first that she did not care for any more cats. But the little girl was so persistent, and the kittens in the basket looked so bright and pretty, mistress was persuaded to take a closer look at them; and as I saw her take them up and fondle them, I felt pretty sure what the result would be.

“I will take two,” said she, “for if I should take but one away from her companions and from her mother, it would get lonely and homesick; besides, a little girl who tries to get good homes for helpless kitties ought to be encouraged.”

This made the little girl very happy, for she knew her kittens would have a good home with mistress; and she went away with only two remaining in the basket.

My new companions were named Budge and Toddy, after the two that had left us. I became friendly with them at once, for I had learned by this time that mistress was a good judge of cats, and that I was perfectly safe in associating freely with those of her choice. The only unpleasant thing about Budge and Toddy was, they had fleas, and, of course, I was visited by some of them; but after a few baths with Spratt’s soap we got quite rid of them. I will tell you how it was done, for mistress seemed to know just the right way.

First she made a nice warm suds, and saturated our necks thoroughly with it. She called this the “dead line” because the fleas could not crawl into our eyes, but had to stay back and be drowned. Then she rubbed the suds into the skin all over our bodies, and used a coarse comb so as to have it penetrate the fur clear to the skin, carefully shielding our eyes. Guy always assisted by holding us while she did the washing. He would hold the front legs in one hand and the hind legs in the other, which gave mistress complete control of the body as it lay in the suds, and Guy would turn it as she directed.

After we were thoroughly washed, mistress rinsed us off in plenty of clean warm water, wiped us dry with a Turkish towel, and gave us a good combing. Then we lay on our cushions in a sunny spot of the room, and in winter time she put the cushion near the register. When dry, she set us on a big newspaper, and gave us a thorough brushing, and it was surprising how the dead fleas would drop out. Then she folded the paper and burned it. After three such baths the troublesome little things completely disappeared.

Budge is a Maltese, very short and fat, with shaggy coat, short bushy tail, and a white “breastpin.”

Toddy is long and slender, with a smooth, soft coat and a long tail. He is a tiger cat like myself. He is livelier and more mischievous than Budge, and in a tussle generally comes out ahead.

Many times I have seen Budge quietly sitting on his cushion, perhaps watching a fly, or purring contentedly to himself, not suspecting any harm or danger, when Toddy, stealthily aiming from a distance, would jump upon him so suddenly as to almost take his breath away. Then they would roll over the floor, first one on top, then the other, biting, kicking and mauling each other, until the peaceful room was turned into a veritable arena. One round was scarcely finished before another was started. By turns they would hump their backs, turn down their ears, bristle their tails, or sway them swiftly to and fro, all the while eyeing each other with most defiant expression. At last the pent-up tempest breaks forth, but the battle proves too fierce for Budge and after several more rounds he seeks refuge on a chair only to find himself further pursued. The chair has a cane seat, and Toddy makes a fresh attack from beneath.

At last when it is all over, Toddy meekly kisses his victim, and says: “Never mind, Budge, you know I was only in fun.”

One morning when we were up in mistress’ room, she made a deep dent in our cushion and put Budge into it. He was then still very small, and it looked as if he was sitting in a little cave with only his head outside.

Pretty soon Toddy came along, and when he saw Budge in so snug a place, he walked all around him viewing him from every side. It was a rather cool morning, and he wanted to get in there too. But seeing there was not enough room by the side of Budge he got in front of him and began caressing him and washing his face and neck. Budge liked this so well that he moved closer and closer to Toddy, and in so doing got partly out of his cave.

This was just what Toddy wanted. When by means of his cunning scheme, he had tempted Budge out far enough, he put his paw behind him, and with a masterly shove, ousted him from the coveted place, and backed into it himself.

I have always thought that Budge laid this trick of Toddy’s up in a corner of his little heart; for, although he seemed to take it good-naturedly at the time, yet he lay in wait when Toddy came down the stairs. But it seemed as though Toddy was expecting something of the kind, for the moment Budge advanced toward him, Toddy jumped up in the air, and Budge shot through under him as though darting through an arch, so swiftly that he ran pell-mell into a basin of water which was being used to clean the floor.

“The charge of the Light Brigade,” said Guy, coming down the stairs behind Toddy.

“No, it’s the Battle of Waterloo,” replied mistress.

With such playful companions as these, you can imagine what delightful times I have had.

IX

A HAPPY HOME

Every morning after breakfast mistress reads in a book called the “Bible,” and when she closes it, they both kneel down in the bay window while she talks to the chair. Sometimes when the sun shines so nice and warm upon her back, I just jump up there and have a nice purr, which always makes Guy laugh.

Some of the stories they have read in the Bible were about men and women and children and goats and sheep and cattle. I have listened breathlessly many times for something about cats, but so far not one has been mentioned. But perhaps those things all happened before there were any cats. One time the story was about an old man who died leaving six daughters[1] and they were afraid that because they had no big brothers they would not get their share. So they went to Moses, their captain, and asked him about it, and he said that they should have their share just the same as if they were sons, instead of daughters. After the story was finished mistress asked Guy, as she usually did, what that meant, and what he had learned from it. He studied for quite a while before he answered her, then he said, “Well, I guess that means women’s rights.”

Another time they were reading about a very great king who sat on a throne, and a queen from another country who had heard about his wonderful wisdom came to ask him a very hard question to see whether what she had heard was true.[2]

“What was the question she asked?” said Guy, after the reading was finished.

“I don’t know,” said mistress; “the Bible does not tell us what it was.”

“I think I know what it was,” said he. “She asked him ‘who made God?’”

After they have spent a half hour or so in this way, they lock up the house and go away; but they always leave a nice lunch for us, and a dish of fresh water.

I know of many poor cats that never get a drop of water at home. They have to go and hunt for it in ditches and puddles, and then are blamed for not keeping a clean, soft, fluffy coat. Anybody ought to know that we can’t be expending moisture through our tongue, washing and scrubbing our coats, unless we can drink water whenever we want it. Some people think it answers the purpose just as well if they give us milk, and dear knows it’s true enough of the milk that some cats get. But we would prefer to have our milk straight, and our water likewise.

Our principal food is fresh boiled meat, mashed potatoes, and milk, and in summer-time we also get sweet peas, asparagus, beans and corn. Once a week we get salmon mixed with bread crumbs or mashed potatoes.

Once I came very near getting into trouble through my fondness for canned beans. I saw a can on the ash pile, and in trying to get what beans were left in the bottom I got my nose in too far. Imagine my shame, when I could not get it out again, and was obliged to go about with a tin can for a muzzle till Guy came home and took it off.

In pleasant weather our food is left on the kitchen porch, which, with our pads and cushions looks like a little summer parlor. There we stay in the bright sunshine, or we play in the grass, climb the fences, play hide-and-seek and roll in our catnip bed.

In cold weather a window is left open into the basement so we can go down to the nice warm furnace room, where we have a great big clothes-basket lined with a clean soft pad. Mistress knows that cats, like other creatures, want a bed long enough so they can stretch themselves out full length when they feel like it.

Of course, we sometimes sleep in other places beside our basket. For awhile an old cap of Guy’s lay on the basement floor, and I used to cuddle up in it to take my nap, because it just fitted me. One day I was just nicely settled in it when Toddy came and lay on top of me, and no sooner had we got ourselves nicely fixed for a nap than Budge came crawling over both of us, trying to get on top of Toddy. But Toddy’s body was too round and his coat too smooth and slippery for Budge to get a good hold, and after sliding off several times he finally went and took his nap in an old sprinkling can.

After supper we have the greatest frolic of the day in the library. In his kittenhood Toddy was a great athlete, and whenever a certain chair with a very high back happened to be near enough, he would climb to the top of it and mount the high bookcase, from which he would look down at the rest of us with a very victorious air.

One evening Budge watched him from mistress’ lap, his little breast swelling with ambition to do likewise. The moment Toddy alighted, Budge mounted the high-back chair, and craned his neck toward the desired spot. But he evidently thought it too great a risk; for he gave mistress a very pleading look which had the desired effect; she moved the chair closer, and Budge scrambled up its back, whence, with a bold leap, he easily spanned the space to the bookcase.

On the top shelf are the pictures of some of our friends. Miss Willard received his most respectful attention, I suppose because she was the mistress of the wonderful “Tootsie” we have all heard about. Tender, lingering glances were also bestowed upon our little friends Don and Winifred. But the beautiful and charming Mrs. Cleveland received his fondest admiration. So proudly did he sway his bushy tail when standing in her presence that several persons of less distinction were sent reeling to the floor. Then, having been associated for a little while in his life with great people he sought his humble lodging behind the cook-stove and took a nap.