After she had looked an hour, we were told of a little brown bird that had been seen in the next yard sitting in the dry leaves. They said he seemed very tame, and looked as if he expected some one to come and pick him up. We were positive that it was our lost pet, but we could not find any further trace of him.
That night it grew very cold and rained hard until morning, and we have not a doubt that he perished, as he had always been used to his nice warm basket.
For days we were a very sad household, and many tears were shed.
CHAPTER II.
TAFFY AND TRICKSEY
I can hardly call Taffy a patient, as he is so well and strong. Perhaps an attendant would be more suitable, as he is always in the hospital, looking after the patients, and nothing goes on that he does not see, but Tricksey is suffering from the asthma.
Taffy is the largest tiger cat I have ever seen, and, as he has the crook in his tail, he belongs to the tabby breed. Taffy is very large, usually weighing fourteen pounds, but he has a very small head and very small, finely shaped paws. The under parts of them look like black velvet. In colour he is mostly jet-black, and the other fur, very much like a raccoon’s, light tan at the ends, shading into yellow, then into drab. As the sun strikes him, every hair seems full of light, and he is one mass of iridescent colours. His marking is most beautiful. The top of his head is black, branching out into five narrow black stripes down his neck, a black stripe three inches wide (without one light hair) going all the way down the back and to the end of the tail and under; of course, on the tail the stripe is much narrower. Then narrow black stripes go down each side of his back and tail. His tail is not long, but very bushy, like a nice boa. I never saw more exquisite colouring and marking than Taffy has underneath, from his throat to his tail. His coat is beautifully soft and thick, and shines like satin, and his eyes are very green. He is particular about his toilet, but insists upon my helping him to keep it glossy. His own comb is kept on my dressing-table, and he asks me to comb him twice a day, and sometimes oftener.
I can tell you nothing of Taffy’s antecedents, as I found him one morning in our back yard almost starved to death, and about as thick through the body as a shingle. At first I thought he had dropped from heaven, but I soon learned from his sayings and doings that he must have been quite intimate with the inmates of the lower region. I tempted him with chicken, but it was some little time before I could put my hand on him; and, to tame any animal, you must be able to touch it with your hand. After two or three pats, he seemed to realize that I was a good friend. Soon I had him in the house, and for three years we have been devoted to each other. I have had a great many cats, but never one who had so much of the wild animal in him. All of my friends said I never could tame Taffy, and it was many weeks before I had much influence over him, and I never feel quite sure now whether I am to be loved or scratched, as he still has the temper and the actions of a tiger when anything goes the wrong way.
He usually lies down like a tiger, with legs straight out in front, tail straight out behind, and when I speak to him he will always blink his eyes and speak to me. If you touch him in passing, he will grab at your feet and spit and growl. He never mews when he wants anything to eat, but will chase me or my maid, and grab at our feet. If he does not like what is given him to eat, he will walk all about his plate, and scratch, as if he were covering it up.
I am the only one Taffy ever shows much affection for, but to me he is very loving. He will lie as long as I will let him with his paws about my neck and head on my shoulder. If he is sound asleep anywhere, and I begin to read aloud, sing, or whistle, he will get up directly, jump on my lap, put his paws about my neck, his face close to mine, and begin to purr. As he always looks very pleasant, I flatter myself he likes the tone of my voice.
When I had my bird, Little Billee, it would make Taffy simply furious if I put him out of my room and closed the door. One morning he was so ugly, my maid did not dare open the door to come in.