Shireen and her Friends Part 29

"Here is a bit master read in a book the other day ['The Domestic Cat,'

by same author], and he told me that the writer had studied cats ever since he was the height of the parlour tongs.

"'But,' says the author, 'the domestic cat is _par excellence_ the playmate and friend of childhood. What is it, indeed, that p.u.s.s.y will not bear from the hands of its child-mistress? She may pull and lug p.u.s.s.y about any way she pleases, or walk up and down the garden-walk with it slung over her shoulder by the tail. If such treatment does hurt the poor cat, she takes good care not to show it. It is amusing enough sometimes to watch a little girl making a baby of her favourite p.u.s.s.y. They are wearied with gambolling together on the flowery lawn, and playing at hide-and-seek among the shrubbery, and p.u.s.s.y "_must_ be tired," says little Alice. p.u.s.s.y enters into the joke at once, and seems positively dead beat; so the basket is brought, the little nightcap is put on, the shawl is carefully pinned around its shoulders, and this embryo mamma puts her feline baby to bed and bids it sleep.

There are always two words, however, with p.u.s.s.y as regards the sleeping part of the contract, for little Alice never can get her baby to close more than one eye at a time. p.u.s.s.y must see what is going on. Anon the baby "must be sick," and p.u.s.s.y forthwith appears as if she couldn't possibly survive another hour. Bread pills are manufactured, and forced down the poor cat's throat, she barely resisting. Then lullabies, low and sweet, are sung to her, which p.u.s.s.y enjoys immensely, and presently, joining in the song herself, goes off to sleep in earnest.

"'And Alice, p.u.s.s.y's friend, although at times she may use the furry favourite rather roughly, is kind to her in the main. Doesn't p.u.s.s.y get a share of Alice's porridge every morning? Doesn't she sup with Alice every night? And do you think, for one moment that Alice would go to bed without her of a night? Not she! And still this cat may be as savage as a tiger to strangers, and even to those in the house who do not treat her well. And let anyone else, except a child, attempt to lift this p.u.s.s.y by the tail, and see what he will see.'"

"And feel what he'll feel," said Cracker; "and serve him right, says I."

"But I fear," said Shireen, "this is somewhat of a digression. You were talking, Stamboul, of your pleasant and delightful cattery, the home of your kittenhood."

"Yes. Well, I shall go on with my story."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN A CAT-DEALER'S DEN.

"The cattery then," continued Stamboul, "in which I was born, was really a very pleasant home, chiefly I think from the fact that dear old Mrs Rayne studied our ways and habits. She didn't stint us in food either."

"Gave you plenty of fish, I suppose?" said Cracker.

"Well," said Stamboul, smiling, "I do not deny that cats do like a bit of fish; but, bless you, my dear Cracker, it is a mistake to think they don't like flesh far better."

"Mrs Rayne had no less than seven female or queen cats, and two beautiful Toms. One of these lived in the house constantly and was Mrs Rayne's especial favourite. He was my dear father, but, alas! like many a beautiful cat, he got caught in a trap one day, and came home with a terribly lacerated leg. It got better for a time, but in his struggle no doubt, my father had hurt himself internally, for he became sickly after this, grew thin, and lost all appet.i.te. Then his coat fell off in patches, and one day he was missing.

"Yes, he was found again, but dead. He had only gone down the garden, feeling, I suppose, that his end was near, and crept in under the dark shade of a bush to die.

"But the secret of Mrs Rayne's success in rearing nice cats with wondrous coats, just like mine and yours, Shireen, was this--she fed her p.u.s.s.ies with regularity and gave them plenty of variety of course. A little porridge and milk was our regular breakfast, but there was some variety as regards the dinner every day. Nor did she forget that cats like a little nicely-mashed greens now and then, and even a bit of tomato and any other raw fruit and vegetable, if it be but a potato paring."

"Many cats many tastes, I suppose," said Warlock.

"That's it, Warlock, you speak like a book; but then you have enjoyed the not slight privilege of having had a cat as a companion, the cat being the superior animal."

Cracker looked at Warlock and Warlock looked at Cracker, and I rather think their thoughts were very similar, only they said nothing. It wouldn't have been polite.

"Well, my friends," said Stamboul, "such was the home in which I was born and reared up to the age of two months. Then the show came round.

"Mrs Rayne said that we--the four kittens--were all very, very beautiful and fascinating, and that if her purse were only half as big as her heart she would not part with one of us. 'However,' she added, 'those who buy you must pay your price, and having done so, they will value you all the more.'

"So mother and I were placed in a nice roomy box, not a wretched little reticule of a thing such as I have more than once travelled in to cat shows. The guard was warned to take precious care of us, and so he did.

"Mrs Rayne was at the station to meet us herself, and conveyed us in a cab all the way to the show.

"We were in good time, so that our dear mistress had an opportunity of arranging our pen for us before putting us in, and also to speak a bit of her mind to the manager and promoter.

"'The pens are too small, Mr Silk,' she said.

"'Very sorry indeed, madam,' said Mr Silk.

"'Yes, but sorrow will hardly give the poor p.u.s.s.ies anymore room.'

"'Then there is no sanitary box of earth placed behind each pen, and you, Mr Silk, ought to know that a well-trained cat is the most cleanly animal on earth. Why don't you take a lesson from Mr Cruft?'

"'I'll have that seen to another year.'

"'Thank you, Mr Silk, and now will you have the goodness to send me a man to sweep out that abominable sawdust from my cat's pen?'

"'The sawdust, madam! Why surely--'

"'I said the sawdust. Nothing worse could be imagined. It gets in the cat's fur. It gets in their milk, and if they have a morsel of meat, that also is rolled in it, and they are probably half poisoned.'"

[This, however, was properly arranged at Mr Cruft's great Aquarium Cat Show of 1894.]

"Having had the sawdust removed, Mrs Rayne put down our pretty cushions, gave us a little warm milk sweetened with sugar, patted our mother, and left.

"The judging was over by the time she returned, and she was very pleased to note, that she had won first prize for the cat and first for the kittens.

"Mother was half asleep, but we--the kittens--were lively enough and full of tricks and fun. There was quite a crowd of well-dressed people around our pen watching our gambols, and so Mrs Rayne was not surprised to be told soon afterwards by the secretary, that two of her kittens were claimed at catalogue prices.

"Mrs Rayne sighed. She would just as soon have taken us all home again, she said.

"Well, my friends, I sigh when I think of my pleasant home with Mrs Rayne, and I think I see the dear old lady now, with her snow-white hair and sunny smile. I never saw my country home again, and I never saw my mistress more. But a cat that I met at a show the other day, and got conversing with in the evening when all the people had gone, told me that she had come from Mrs Rayne's cattery, which was now no more, they having carried the old lady to her grave a year ago. Heigho! there is a deal of sorrow in this world to cats as well as men.

"Well, at the first show we were all sold to different owners. I never knew where my brothers and sisters went, but I live in hopes of some day meeting them at a show.

"That first show was not a well-conducted one, and though it was held at the Crystal Palace, the cages were placed in a draughty place, and the pens they told me at another show, to which I was sent afterwards, had been used for other animals. I don't know how this may be; but I do know that something was wrong, for nearly a score of cats at that show caught infectious ailments, which speedily carried them off after they got home.

"Alas! my friends, I was now to have a new experience and one of a very painful nature. I had been bought, not by anyone to keep as a pet, but by a woman--I cannot say lady--who kept cats for profit and profit alone. She had no love for them, all she expected was to pocket gain by them.

"My heart sunk when I was taken into this filthy den, for it was nothing else. It was a room in a small suburban cottage, and contained no less than twenty cats and kittens of all breeds and ages. Many of these were confined in cages of the most crampy and filthy kind.

"The poor inmates indeed seemed in a woeful plight.

"I got talking to one of them in an adjoining berth to my own after it was dark.

"'I suppose,' I said innocently, 'I shall soon be taken to a real home?'

"'A real home!' said the silver tabby I had addressed. 'Well, you may, but I very much doubt it. Why, some of us have been in this dismal prison for three long years, and may be for years and years again, unless we have the luck to die or to get sold, for escape seems impossible. We are kept for breeding.'

"'You are well fed, I suppose?'

"'Well fed? Ah! you'll soon know how we are fed. Why, we never get a change of any kind; it is milk and bread, milk and bread and half-putrid lumps of horse-flesh from one month's end to another, and never a blade of gra.s.s to cool our blood and to refresh us. And we only have one little run in the backyard yonder once a day, when mistress happens not to be busy elsewhere.'

"'Yet, nevertheless,' continued my informant, 'mistress is supposed to be a celebrated breeder, and sometimes a lady arrives at the door of her cottage and is shown into a nicely-furnished room. She has come most likely to buy a cat or kitten. We are all kept groomed and ready always, and not having any exercise, we are moderately plump and fat.

Well, soon after the carriage stops, mistress herself, better dressed than usual, hurries in and picks up one of us, and takes a brush and comb and goes rapidly over the coat. Then she enters the best room, petting and hugging the poor p.u.s.s.y. Ah! well does the cat know that it is all false affection; but she sings and looks pleasant, the prospect of leaving this vile den making her happy and hopeful for a time.'

"'And then,' I said, 'when a p.u.s.s.y is sold she is taken away in the carriage to some pretty and refined home, where she will be well cared for, and have good food and toys, and maybe beautiful children to play with, and--'

"'Like a dream her life will pa.s.s away!'"