These are only a few crude suggestions, which may be very much improved upon; one thing at least is certain, the law ought to protect the domestic cat.
CHAPTER VII.
FELINE AILMENTS.
Of course, in one chapter—and that is all my available space—it will be impossible to notice all, or even the greater part, of the evils that feline flesh is heir to. I will endeavour, however, to lay down a few simple rules for those who wish to keep their cats in health, and for their treatment in the most common diseases.
Prevention is better than cure. I believe that is not an original remark; but it is nevertheless a very true one, as regards the ailments of the domestic cat, almost all of which may be kept at bay by even ordinary attention. We all have a duty to perform to the animals under us, even to animals of mere utility; and much more cheerfully ought that duty to be performed, if the creature is kept for the beauty that pleases our eye, or for the love it loves us with. So long as your pet is in health, and happy and lively, you can easily forgive yourself for many little acts of neglect towards her; but when she falls ill, when she is writhing in pain, and looking in your face with eyes that implore your aid, then, indeed, I do not envy your feelings, if, coupled with your sorrow for her sufferings, you have the sad reflection that, many a time, you might have been better to her.
There is more room for improvement, in the breed and condition of the domestic cat, than in that of any other animal I know; and no creature so soon repays its master, for the care and attention he may bestow on it. Instead of the meagre-looking, small, short-haired, guilty thief, that used to fly and get up the chimney whenever it heard your footstep, you have a large, honest, plump pussy, with glossy fur and loving eye, that runs to meet you with a song, and jumps on your shoulder to have the pleasure of giving you the first caress—a thing of joy and beauty for——, well, for a matter of fifteen years at least. And these are the sort of cats I wish to see throughout the length and breadth of the land. I like to see people fond of their cats. Some will tell you it is unmanly to love a cat. Fudge! Man’s manliness consists in doing, in a straightforward manner, whatsoever is natural and right, and not fearing the face of clay in the doing of it.
“But,” said I, the other day at Birmingham, somewhat mischievously interrupting a sporting friend of mine, who was indulging in a long diatribe on the comparative merits of two bull-terriers, “But, have you seen the cats?”
“Confound the cats!” he answered testily, and, after a pause, “D’ye know what I should like to do? Look, see. There are a hundred and twenty fox-terriers yonder; well, I’d just turn them into the cat show and close the doors.”