Pussy and Doggy Tales Read online

  "And supposing we don't play with our tails and the balls of worsted?" Isaid.

  "Then," said my mother bitterly, "you may as well lie down for the miceto, run over you."

  Thus at first she used to try to show me how foolish it was to think ofnothing but eating and sleeping; but after a while she turned all herattention to teaching my brother and sister, and they were apt pupils.They despised nothing small enough to be moved by their paws, whichcould give them an opportunity of practising. They did not mind makingthemselves ridiculous--a thing which has been always impossible with me.I have seen Tabby, my sister, in the garden, playing with dead leaves,as excited and pleased as though they had been the birds which shefoolishly pretended that they were.

  I thought her very silly then, but I lived to wish that I had taken halfas much trouble with my lessons as she did with hers. My mother was verypleased with her, especially after she caught the starlings. This was apiece of cleverness which my sister invented and carried throughentirely out of her own head. She made friends with one of the cows atthe farm near us, and used to go into the cowhouse and jump on the cow'sback. Then when the cow was sent out into the field to get her grassybreakfast, my sister used to go with her, riding on her back.

  Now birds are always very much on the look-out for cats, and, if theycan help it, never allow one of us to come within half-a-dozen yards ofthem without taking to those silly wings of theirs. I never could seewhy birds should have wings--so unnecessary.

  But birds are not afraid of cows, for cows are very poor sportsmen, andnever care to kill and eat anything.

  Now the back of a cow is the last place where you would think of lookingfor a cat; so when the starlings saw the cow coming, they didn't thinkit worth while to use their wings, and when the cow was quite close tothe birds--beautiful, fat, delightful birds--- my sister used to pickout with her eye the fattest starling, and then leap suddenly from thecow's back on to her prey. She never missed.

  "I have never known," said my poor mother with tears of pride in hergreen eyes--"I have never known a cat do anything so clever."

  "It's all your doing, mother dear," said my sister prettily; "if youhadn't taught me so well when I was little, I should never have thoughtof it." And they kissed each other affectionately.

  I showed my claws and growled. My mother shook her tabby head.

  "O Buff," she said, "if you had only been willing to learn when you werelittle, you might have been as clever as your sister, instead ofbeing the great anxiety you are to me."

  "And why am I an anxiety?" I said, ruffling up my fur and my tail, for Iwas very angry.

  "Because you are useless," she said, "and not particularly handsome; andwhen a cat is useless and not particularly handsome, they sometimes----"

  "What?" I said, turning pale to the ends of my ears.

  "They sometimes drown it, Buff," she said in a whisper, and turned awayto hide her feelings.

  Judge of my own next day when they came into the kitchen and took me upand put me into a basket. I knew all about drowning. These tales ofhorror are told at twilight time in all cat nurseries, and I knew thatif three large stones were put into the basket with me, I mightconsider my fate sealed.

  It was very uncomfortable in the basket. They carried me upside-downpart of the way, and it was draughty and hard; but, so far, there wereno stones. When they took off the lid of the basket, I found myselfunder the shade of a huge moving mountain, that seemed about to fall andcrush me. It was an elephant.

  I found that the people where my mother lived had given me to the cook,who had given me to her cousin, who was engaged to be married to a youngman whose brother-in-law was the elephant's keeper, and so I foundmyself in the elephant's house.

  There was no milk for me--no heads and tails of fish--no scraps ofmeat--no delicious unforeseen morsels of butter.

  The elephant was very kind to me. He had once had a friend exactly likeme, he explained, but had unfortunately walked upon him, and now I hadcome to fill the vacant place in his large heart.

  I resolved at once that he should not walk upon me; but in order toinsure this, I was compelled to enter upon a more active existence thanI had ever known.

  When I asked what I was expected to eat, he said--

  "Mice, I suppose; or you can have some of my buns if you like. You mightlike them at first, but you will soon get tired of them."

  But I couldn't eat buns. I was never, from a kitten, fond of suchthings. I got very hungry. Again and again the mice rushed through thestraw, and I, heavily, helplessly, in my unpractised way, rushed afterthem. At first the elephant laughed heartily at my inexpertness; butwhen he saw how hungry and wretched I was, he said--

  "They won't give you any milk, and if they find you don't catch the micethey will take you away from me. Now you are a nice little cat, and Idon't want to part with you. We must try and arrange something."

  Then the great thought of my life came to me.

  "You walked on the other cat," I said.

  "What?" he trumpeted in a voice of thunder.

  "I beg your pardon," I said hastily; "I didn't mean to hurt yourfeelings"--and, indeed, I could not have imagined that an elephant wouldhave been so thin-skinned "but a great idea has come to me. Whyshouldn't you walk on mice--not too hard, but just so that I could eatthem afterwards?"

  "Well," said the elephant, showing his long tusks in a smile, "you arenot very handsome, and you are not very brisk; but you certainly havebrains, my dear."

  He dropped his great foot as he spoke. When he lifted it, there lay amouse. I had an excellent supper; and before the week's end I heard thekeeper say, "This cat has certainly done the trick. She has kept themice down. We must keep her."

  They have kept me. They even go so far as to allow me to moisten my micewith milk.

  There is no moral to this story, except that you should do as you aretold, and learn everything you can while you are young. It is true thatI get on very well without having done so, but then you may not have mygood luck. It is not every cat who can get an elephant to catch her micefor her.

  A Silly Question

  "HOW do you come to be white, when all your brothers are tabby, mydear?" Dolly asked her kitten. As she spoke, she took it away from theball it was playing with, and held it up and looked in its face as Alicedid with the Red Queen.

  "I'll tell you, if you'll keep it a secret, and not hold me so tight,"the kitten answered.

  Dolly was not surprised to hear the kitten speak, for she had read herfairy books, as all good children should, and she knew that allcreatures answer if one only speaks to them properly. So she held thekitten more comfortably and the tale began.

  "You must know, my dear Dolly," the kitten began--and Dolly thought itdreadfully familiar--"you must know that when we were very small we allset out to seek our fortunes."

  "Why," interrupted Dolly, "you were all born and brought up in our barn!I used to see you every day."

  "Quite so," said the kitten; "we sought our fortune every night, and itturned out to be mice, mostly. Well, one night I was seeking mine, whenI came to a hole in the door that I had never noticed before. I creptthrough it, and found myself in a beautiful large room. It smeltdelicious. There was cheese there, and fish, and cream, and mice, andmilk. It was the most lovely room you can think of."

  "There's no such room----" began Dolly.

  "Did I say there was?" asked the kitten. "I only said I found myselfthere. Well, I stayed there some time. It was the happiest hour of mylife. But, as I was washing my face after one of the most deliciousherring's heads you ever tasted, I noticed that on nails all round theroom were hung skins--and they were cat skins," it added slowly. "Wellmay you tremble!"

  Dolly hadn't trembled. She had only shaken the kitten to make it speakfaster.

  "Well, I stood there rooted to the ground with horror; and then came asort of horrible scramble-rush, and a barking and squeaking, and aterrible monster stood before me. It was something like a dog andsomething lik
e a broom, something like being thrown out of the larder bycook--I can't describe it. It caught me up, and in less than a momentit had hung my tabby skin on a nail behind the door.

  "I crept out of that lovely fairyland a cat without a skin. And that'show I came to be white."

  "I don't quite see----" began Dolly.

  "No? Why, what would your mother do if some one took off your dress, andhung it on a nail where she could not get it?"

  "Buy me another, I suppose."

  "Exactly. But when my mother took me to the cat-skin shop, they were,unfortunately, quite out of tabby dresses in my size, so I had to have awhite one."

  "I don't believe a word of it," said Dolly.

  "No? Well, I'm sure it's as good a story as you could expect in answerto such a silly question."

  "But you were always----"

  "Oh, well!" said the kitten, showing its claws, "if you know more aboutit than I do, of course there's no more to be said. Perhaps you couldtell me why your hair is brown?"

  "I was born so, I believe," said Dolly gently.

  The kitten put its nose in the air.

  "You've got no imagination," it said.

  "But, Kitty, really and truly, without pretending, you _were_ bornwhite, you know."

  "If you know all about it, why did you ask me? At any rate, you can'texpect me to remember whether I was born white or not. I was too youngto notice such things."

  "Now you are in fun," said poor Dolly, bewildered.

  The kitten bristled with indignation.

  "What! you really don't believe me? I'll never speak to you again," itsaid. And it never has.

  The Selfish Pussy

  "YES," said the tortoiseshell cat to the grey one, as she thoughtfullywashed her left ear, "I have lived in a great many families. You see,it's not every trade that deserves to have a cat about the place. Myfirst master was a shoemaker, and I lived with him happily enough, untilone morning in winter, when I found the wicked man sewing strips of--letme whisper--_cat's fur_ on a pair of lady's slippers!

  "I mewed as I saw it, and he, thinking I wanted milk, put down his workto get me some, for he was fond enough of me. I drank the milk, and thenI ran away. I could not live with such a man.

  "My next home was in a garret, with a half-starved musician who madeviolins. A violin is a musical instrument that miauls when you touch itjust as we cats do, and it was amusing to live with a man who could makethings with voices like my own. He was very poor, and often had notenough to eat, but he always got me my cat's-meat; and when there was nofire on, he nursed me to keep me warm. But one day I learned, from thetalk of one of his friends (a man as lean as himself) who came to seehim, that the strings of the violins were taken from the bodies of deadcats. No wonder the voices were like my brothers' voices, since theywere stolen from my brothers' bodies. He might take my own voice someday.

  "So next day, after the cat's-meat man had called, I walked quietly out,and never saw that bad violin-maker again.

  "I was picked up in the street by a child, who took me home to hermother's house. They were rich folk; they had curtains, and cushions,and couches, and they did very little but nurse me, or sometimes, notwishing to hurt his feelings, the Italian greyhound. But they liked _me_best, of course. They were a noble family; and I should have been livingwith them still, but one year, when they went to the seaside, theyforgot to provide for my board and lodging, and I had to go into tradeagain.

  "'Milk ahoy! milk ahoy!' I heard that well-known music as I sat lonelyon the doorstep of the deserted mansion in the Square. The milkmanlooked lonely too; so I thought it would be only kind to go home withhim. I did. He was a very well-meaning man, but his tastes were low. Hetook skim milk in his tea, and gave me the same. Of course, after that,I could not stay another hour under his roof.

  "I tried two or three other houses, and I could have been happy with avery nice butcher who kept a corner shop, but he kept a dog also, a dogthat no cat in her senses would live in the same street with; so I cameaway--rather hurriedly, I remember--and the dog saw me off. Now I livewith a worker in silver, and I have cream every day; and when he makes acream-jug, and I remember what will be put in it some day, I lick mylips, and think what a happy cat I am to live with such a good man.Where do you live?"

  "With a poor widow, in an attic. I never have enough to eat." And,indeed, the grey cat was thin.

  "Why do you stay with her?"

  "Because I love her," said the grey cat.

  "Love!" replied the tortoiseshell cat.

  "Nonsense! I never heard of such a thing."

  "Poor puss!" said the parrot in the window. The grey cat thought it wasspeaking to the tortoiseshell, and the tortoiseshell was certain itmeant the grey. Which do _you_ think it meant?

  Meddlesome Pussy

  I WAS separated from my mother at a very early age, and sent out intothe world alone, long before I had had time to learn to say "please" and"thank you," and to shut the door after me, and little things like that.One of the things I had not learned to understand was the differencebetween milk in a saucer on the floor, and milk in a jug on the table.Other cats tell me there is a difference, but I can't see it. Thedifference is not in the taste of the milk--that is precisely the same.

  It is not so easy to get the milk out of a jug, and I should havethought some credit would attach to a cat who performed so clever afeat. The world, my dear, thinks otherwise. This difference of opinionhas, through life, been a fruitful source of sorrow to me. I cannot tellyou how much I have suffered for it. The first occasion I remember was abeautiful day in June, when the sun shone, and all the world lookedfair. I was destined to remember that day.

  The fishmonger (talk of statues to heroes! I would raise one to thatnoble man!)--the fishmonger, I say, brought his usual little present to_me_. I let the cook take it and prepare it for my eating. I am alwaysgenerous enough to permit the family to be served first--and then I havemy dinner quietly at the back door.

  Well, he had brought the salmon, and I followed the cook in, to seethat it wasn't put where those dogs could get it; and then, thedining-room door being opened, I walked in. The breakfast things werelying littered about, and on the tea-tray was a jug.

  Of course, I walked across the table, and looked into the jug; there wasmilk in it.

  It was a sensible, wide-mouthed jug, and I should have been quite ableto make a comfortable breakfast, if some clumsy, careless servant hadn'trushed into the room, crying "Shoo! scat!"

  This startled me, of course. I am very sensitive. I started, the jugwent over, and the milk ran on to the cloth, and down on the new carpet.You will hardly believe it, but that servant, to conceal her owncarelessness, beat me with a feather brush, and threw me out of the backdoor; and cook, who was always a heartless person, though stout, gaveme no dinner. Ah! if my fishmonger had only known that I never tastedhis beautiful present, after all!

  But though I admired him so much, I could not talk to him. I never, froma kitten, could speak any foreign language fluently. So he never knew.

  My next misadventure was on an afternoon when the family expectedcompany, and the best china was set out. Why "best"? Why should asaucer, all blue and gold and red, with a crown on the back, be betterthan a white one with mauve blobs on it? I never could see. Milk tastesequally well from both.

  I went into the drawing-room before the guests arrived--just to be surethat everything was as I could wish--and, seeing the tea set out, I goton the table, as usual, to see whether there was anything in thesaucers. There was not, but in the best milk-jug there was--CREAM!

  The neck of the best milk-jug was narrow. I could not get my head in, soI turned it over with my paw. It fell with a crash, and I paused amoment--these little shocks always upset me. All was still--I began tolap. Oh! that cream! I shall never forget it!

  Then came a rush, and the fatal cry of "Shoo! scat!"--always presagingdisaster. I saw the door open, and, by an instinct I cannot explain, Ileaped from the table. In my hurry, my foot caught i
n the handle of thesilver tray. We fell together--neither the tray nor I was hurt--but thebest china!!!

  I picked myself up, and looked about me. The family had come in. I readin their faces that their servant's unlucky interruption-of my meal haddestroyed what was dearer to them than life--than _my_ life, at anyrate. I fled. I went out homeless and hopeless into the goldenafternoon.

  I live now with a Saint--a maiden lady, who takes condensed milk in herown tea, and buys me two-pennyworth of cream night and morning.

  And cat's meat, too!

  And the glorious fishmonger still leaves his offerings at my door.

  Nine Lives

  "MOTHER," said the yellow kitten, "is it true that we cats have ninelives?"

  "Quite, my dear," the brindled cat replied. She was a very handsome cat,and in very comfortable circumstances. She sat on a warm Turkey carpet,and wore a blue satin ribbon round her neck. "I am in the ninth lifemyself," she said.

  "Have you lived all your lives here?"

  "Oh dear, no!"

  "Were you here," the white kitten asked, in a sleepy voice, "when theTurkey carpet was born? Rover says it is only a few months old."

  "No," said the mother, "I was not. Indeed, it was partly the softness ofthat carpet that made me come and live here."