Daisy Part 5

"Let her break them," Mr. H. replied; "we shall get off cheap if that is all the mischief she does." And he went off to sleep again.

When Mrs. H. reached the mantle, no cat was to be found.

"Oh, Daisy," she said, "there you are, so demure, sitting on that chair!

You are just like your mistress, so cute, no wonder she loves you dearly."

After coaxing me to lie down on the lounge, she went to bed, and soon fell asleep. I could not sleep, however. I had a restless desire to go and find my friends.

The end window was open at the top; it faced on a narrow piazza that extended the length of the house. It was gravelled on the top. I was very agile, and giving one spring from the top of a chair, I soon reached the window, and overlooked the situation. A good jump, and I landed on my feet, and walked along, crunching the gravel as I went.

I pa.s.sed the bath-room window and then approached the window of Mr.

George's room, which was open wide, but protected by a heavy screen.

Here I planted my paws and looked in. One wild yell and a succession of barks rent the air, and Spot, who had been sleeping at the foot of his master's bed, rushed for the window and would soon have dashed through the screen and finished me,--for he was a powerful dog,--but his master's hand on his collar restrained him, with the other hand he reached for his pistol, thinking there were burglars about. His mother's voice at the door arrested him, and he opened the door, to meet her anxious question, "Is Daisy safe?"

"She is safe enough," he said; "but are we safe with a cat like this one in the house?"

"Take Spot into my room," said his mother, "while I get Daisy." In spite of her alarm, as she approached the window, she could not help laughing.

"Oh, you cunning creature!" she said; "just as composed as possible, looking from one to the other, as if to say,--'Why, what is all this fuss about?'"

Sure enough, I stood with my paws on the window-sill, and did not move till she came, and removing the screen took me into the room where all the family were a.s.sembled, in undress, while Spot's loud barking could be heard from the next room. I was taken into the guest chamber, where Mrs. H. remained with me; for she said she was convinced no one could govern me but my mistress.

Two days more, and I was made happy by the sight of my loved ones. Mrs.

H. did not tell them for a long time of my naughtiness. They said their visit was pleasant, but without me they had decided never to go away again. They said their friend had given them an invitation for me when they visited her another year. And it was really true. The next year they did take me; and as it is all fresh in my memory now, I will jump one year and tell you all about it.

I saw the cats they had told me about. One was called "Forepaugh," and she did look just like a real circus cat. She had one brown and one blue eye. The other cat was called "Spring." I liked them both very much.

They were not educated cats, but they had good manners, and were very kind hearted.

Forepaugh told me sad stories of the cats around. She said very few people made them members of the family, as we were. Most of the cats were tramps, living in the fields and woods, afraid of every human being, having to steal or starve. They were naturally antagonistic to cats that had homes. They never had known kindness and could not believe in it. She said if ever a missionary was needed, she thought it was right here.

She said that just below, near the poorhouse, was a large field called "Cat Swamp," because all the cats for miles around congregated here.

Some "dudes" had altered the name to "Feline Meadow." "Cat Swamp" held the fort, however, as the most appropriate name. Here the cats yelled and caterwauled and told all their trials and sorrows caused by mankind.

The fights were fearful, and the heaps of fur to be seen around after one of these encounters proved in reality that there was nothing ideal in the tongues and sounds heard in this region. They said there was no help for it; people could not be made to realize that cats had a claim on them.

For several nights I had noticed one of the neighbors' cats sitting on the fence and listening intently to our conversation. This evening she came nearer, and gave a groan, while Forepaugh was speaking to me of the neglected cats. At last she said if she might be allowed to express an opinion, she had one all ready. We said at once how glad we would be to hear her.

"Suppose," she said, "some of your good Boston people, with their little tracts on the treatment of dumb animals, come along! What then! We can't eat their tracts, or live on them, can we?"

I didn't like to answer this cat, she was so big and aggressive, and looked at me with such spite, as if she thought I liked tracts, and the people who carry them about, when I do despise them. Finding I did not answer, she continued:--

"There it all ends. A lot of women will get together, with a few men thrown in, and they will talk and talk, going all around Robin Hood's barn, till they lose the thread of their discourse, and we wish some big bat would rush out and catch the thread and bring them to the point.

Then they argue and draw up resolutions, and call upon the brethren to agree to them, which the poor men do, because they are afraid of the sisters' tongues. Then they are exhausted, and are obliged, 'as weaker vessels,' to drink gallons of tea, and the men smoke acres of cigars, and it all ends in smoke and tea grounds for us poor cats. The women think about each other's clothes, while the men are wondering if the women are rich enough to support them, should they propose marriage.

Naturally cats are forgotten.

"Sometimes they find a home for a good-looking cat, but it is not a satisfactory one. Such people are not supposed to know much about people with hearts large enough to take interest in cats. They are handed over to high-toned servants, to pet and snub in alternation. The poor no-tailed horses, made wretched by the abominable check-rein and the flies, hate everything that moves, and kick at us. The liveried servants smoke in our faces, swear, and spit on us, till we hide ourselves in disgust and wonder if animals have dirtier habits than human beings.

"When the family returns to the city the house is closed, and these Christian people leave poor p.u.s.s.y behind to look out for herself. Is it any wonder that cats have no faith in any one? That they join the midnight revels, and fight, and steal, to keep them alive?"

She was very sarcastic, but Forepaugh said it was all true; that cats were cast off just as if they had no right to live; then when they steal some bit of food, they are given a bad character and hunted about. They are expected to have better morals than human beings.

Forepaugh said that she had a real respect for this cat, that she knew all the cats for miles around, and helped them all she could; she said that hearing their tales of sorrow had made her cynical.

"I had thought her disagreeable," Forepaugh said, "till one night I saw her tugging along the remains of a big fish which a neighbor who had been out fishing had given her. I had the curiosity to follow her. She had to take a rest frequently, for the fish was heavy. At last, after walking a long distance, she dragged it over a stone wall. Soon feeble voices greeted her, and two half-starved cats that had been abused by bad boys raised themselves up, while their friend tore the fish to pieces with her sharp teeth. I got over the wall and helped her. They all were shy of me and inclined to sneer because I had a home, but I said I did not care; it made me mad, but I put all my madness into tearing up the fish, and they satisfied their hunger."

Forepaugh also said that their friend, not satisfied with feeding them, began to lick one of the great wounds made by a sharp stone thrown by a boy just for fun. Then, as they were thirsty, they dragged themselves down to a brook at the end of the field, and after drinking they were very comfortable. Then they told their trials, and said, "What can we do to make people kind to us?"

Forepaugh said she had heard of a Dr. Angell, who was devoting his life to helping dumb animals. They all yelled and scoffed when she said "Angell," saying, "Do you believe there is an angel in heaven that would look at a cat?"

Forepaugh said (being a Christian cat) she was shocked. She explained to them that it was the name, though she said, "I am sure it is appropriate, for he has proved himself one by his help to all helpless creatures."

"Well," they said, "we wish he could see us and help us. Why can't some one speak to him? Perhaps, though, he will think cats beneath his notice."

Forepaugh said she had often thought she wished she could see him and tell him about their sufferings. She said, "I always respected that cat after that night when we walked home by moonlight, after taking care of those cats; and when she sat down on a stone, saying, 'I must rest, for I feel faint; I have had no food for some hours, for I knew that fish would be only enough for them,' I said, 'You shall have some of my supper,' and I got her some pieces of meat and gave her all my milk, and went to bed happy, though I was rather empty."

After this I did have a real friendship for Forepaugh, and I told her if ever I could, I would try to interest this good man in our race. I had not then thought I should ever write a book, but now is my chance, and somehow I do feel he will help us.

The cynical cat never would make friends with me, but I did admire her, and I feel how small my life is compared with hers. Here am I, petted and living in plenty, and I can only be grateful and try to be a comfort to my dear friend.

Forepaugh told us that at one of the great sh.o.r.e houses they had a cat called Prometheus.

"Oh," said our cynic, "how I wish we could get at his liver; we should never want for food."

I pondered over that speech, and one day I heard my mistress telling her little niece, who was reading mythology, the story of Prometheus, "who was bound to a rock, vultures feeding upon his ever growing liver." It was very funny for a country bred cat to be versed in mythology. I suppose, however, she heard it, as I often do things my mistress and her friend talk about, and the liver made her remember it.

I was heartily glad to return to Boston, and I made up my mind I would let cats and all the animals I could reach know that they had not met the true philanthropists, but the shams that take up every new cause and dishonor it. For there are many earnest, true philanthropists who spend money and publish nice tracts in behalf of animals, and thus, in a measure, the tracts "do feed" animals; for they open the eyes of those who perhaps have never thought of the matter earnestly.

I determined, after my visit to Beverly, to write this book to help my unfortunate race.

VII

CAT MEMORIES

Our new room, a very large alcove, was pleasant and comfortable. The people who owned the house were school-teachers, refined, and the atmosphere was congenial to us all. I loved to watch my friend's busy fingers and follow Miss Milly's pen, as she wrote for hours at her desk.

I loved to walk over the fresh writing and flirt my tail over the ink-bottle. That would make her stop and scold me, then pet me till I was willing she should return to her work. The eyes of affection are sharp. I saw with pain that they were obliged often to lie down, after a long spell of work, but they never complained.

Mrs. Knight came often to see us, but I did not see Stacy for a long time. He was busy with his studies at Harvard, but he sent me kind messages, and I knew he loved me. Our boys were not with us, and I had no young company; but then, I was happy for I could see and hear from our young friends frequently.

I always greeted dear Mrs. Knight with delight. She had a camel's hair shawl she used to roll me in, when we lived in her house, and I loved to claw it and pull the wool out of it. I wondered she did not wear it, but then, I suppose, it was old fashioned. She told me that her cat Solomon was very fond of it, and she allowed him to sleep on the lounge with that shawl under him.

I felt a little jealous of Solomon, but I doubt if they ever love another cat as well as they love me. They said Solomon had no a.s.sociates, though they lived on the swell avenue.

The cats belonging there were only tolerated one-half the year. The cats that were not boarded out were left to become tramps. Of course these cats were very immoral, and they did not think it would improve Solomon to be friendly with them. I did smile when Mrs. Knight said, "Daisy is such a perfect cat, we hold him up as a model for Solomon."

I wondered how Sol would like that, for he told me he did not like being kept in. He guessed he could take care of his morals; the society cats could not hurt him.