"There are probably few people in the city of Boston
who realize that over 25,000 abandoned cats and 3,000
dogs are electrocuted each year by the Animal Rescue
League, by means of a cage which is charged with a
strong current of electricity. After entering and the
door is closed, they die without pain or struggle. June
is the time of year that people abandon dogs, cats and
other pets, for at this time they move to the seashore
and disregard their four-footed friends, leaving them
to wander in the streets. It is the aim of the Animal
Rescue League to procure and dispose of all animals
thus abandoned and, whenever possible, they are provided
with good homes. There were 27,607 cats rescued
by the League in 1912 and each year the number
increases."
Oh, the pity of it! This little story will, I hope, appeal to many, as it shows how keen are the sufferings of a pampered pet, thrown on its own resources and forced to wander day by day without food or water. Surely it may save some poor beast from misery, and I sincerely hope that it will not have been written in vain.
CHAPTER I
The first thing I remember is that all was dark, but that I could feel a mother's loving caress and knew that there were other helpless things in the same box with me. After several days, something large and strong lifted us, box and all, and carried us up into a much more pleasant place; I can still remember how good it smelled. Upon opening my eyes the next day, I beheld the face of my mother and found that we were seven, and were comfortably settled at the rear of a provision store. Mother did not feel at all safe; that I could see by the uneasy manner in which she looked about her, and started and trembled as people came to look at us. Once, if I remember correctly, she tried to bite a small boy who would persist in picking me up by the tail. Her claws showed also and she took good care of us in many like emergencies. She continued to be uneasy, and one day when Mr. Carver, the butcher, had stepped out on business, she took us one by one in her mouth, lifting us carefully by the nape of the neck, and carried us back into the cellar again.
It was dark and cold and we did not like it very well, but mother cuddled us up in her warm embrace and tried to make us feel that it was best for us to be away from people. When Mr. Carver came back and saw the empty box he came down into the cellar and scolded poor mother, saying, "Now, old lady, I want you and the kittens to stay upstairs, for I am going to give them away; besides, I want you to kill the mice which are getting into everything up there. You may keep one of your children, however, for we need two cats here."
Mother looked worried, but followed as he carried us up again. We remained there after that and grew larger and more attractive, so that one by one my brothers and sisters were given away, with the exception of Tom's father (who stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land, to a good old age).
Our childhood was bright and happy, for mother taught us many things and brought us up well. I remember that there was a door leading from the rear of the store into a garden. Sunny days mother would take us out and give us lessons in natural history. She taught us not to kill or maim song-birds, but said that we could kill and eat field mice or little blind moles, although we never saw any of them. She warned us that bees and wasps were too heating to the blood, and not to eat them, but if very hungry, a grass-hopper was not to be sneezed at; positively no toads, however. How we played in the garden, chasing the elusive sunbeams, rolling over and over, and learning to box and jump! It all came to an end too soon, however, for one day a very neat little girl came in and said that her father, who was janitor in a grammar school, wanted a kitten, because the mice were getting the best of him.
She picked me up and I knew at once that I should like her, as she was so gentle (some children are very rough and squeeze one so hard).