Old Puss
Don't hurt the poor old cat,
There can be no fun in that;
And it would be cruel too—
She never tried to injure you.
She, for years, has kept the house
Free from thievish rat and mouse;
Puss has always faithful been,
And has kept herself so clean.
True, she now is getting old,
Though she once was strong and bold;
At her prey she cannot leap,
And, if caught, can scarcely keep.
Poor old puss! 'Twould be a shame
Thee for uselessness to blame;
When though canst not active be—
Useless through infirmity.
In the Park
I'm a rich little kitten:
I live at my ease,
I keep my own carriage,
I go where I please;
My turn-out is stylish,
I nothing neglect,
And often I notice
That all recollect
That a rich little kitten
Deserves much respect.

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Page 160—More Pussy Land

The Dead Kitten
Don't talk to me of parties, Nan;
I really cannot go;
When folks are in affliction
They don't go out, you know.
I have a new brown sash, too;
It seems a pity—eh?
That such a dreadful trial
Should have come just yesterday!
The play-house blinds are all pulled down
As dark as it can be;
It looks so very solemn
And so proper, don't you see?
And I have a piece of crape
Pinned on my dolly's hat,
Tom says it is ridiculous
For only just a cat.
But boys are all so horrid!
They always, every one,
Delight in teasing little girls
And kitties, "just for fun."
The way he used to pull her tail—
It makes me angry now—
And scat her up the cherry tree,
To make the darling "meow!"
I've had her all the summer.
One day, away last spring,
I heard a frightful barking,
And I saw the little thing
In the corner of a fence;
'T would have made you laugh outright
To see how every hair stood out,
And how she tried to fight.
I shooed the dog away,
And she jumped upon my arm;
The pretty creature knew
I wouldn't do her any harm;
I hugged her close, and carried her
To mamma, and she said
She should be my own wee kitty,
If I'd see that she was fed.
A cunning little dot she was,
With silky, soft, grey fur;
She'd lie for hours on my lap,
And I could hear her purr;
And then she'd frolic after
When I pulled a string about,
Or try to catch her tail,
Or roll a marble in and out.
Such comfort she has been to me
I'm sure no one could tell,
Unless some other little girl
Who loves her pussy well.
I've heard about a Maltese cross;
But my dear little kit
Was always sweet and amiable,
And never cross a bit!
But oh, last week I missed her!
I hunted all around;
My darling little pussy-cat
Was nowhere to be found.
I knelt and whispered softly,
When nobody could see:
"Take care of little kitty, please,
And bring her back to me."
I found her lying yesterday
Behind the lower shed;
I thought my heart was broken
When I found that she was dead.
Tom promised me another one;
But even he can see
No other kitty ever will be
Just the same to me.
I can't go to your party, Nannie,
Maccaroons, you say?
And ice-cream? I know
I ought to try and not give way;
And I feel it would be doing wrong
To disappoint you so.
Well, if I'm equal to it
By to-morrow, I may go!
Sydney Dayre