Cats have any amount of wiliness about them. A dog would scarcely think of hiding below a bush until its prey came within reach; but cats are adepts at an ambuscade. A cat knows by experience that a bird—say a sparrow—looks almost in every direction, saving directly beneath it, and so pussy always steals a march on it, from below. If a bird is foolish enough to alight on the top of a clothes-pole, pussy has a very easy victory. It is that same habit of never looking downwards, which causes those large birds, which alight on a ship’s yards at sea, to be so easily captured by the sailors.
Instances of jealousy are by no means uncommon in the feline race. Jealousy is an indication of a sensitive nature, and no animal in the world is more sensitive than a cat. A lady had a pretty little pussy, which she had saved from drowning. This cat was excessively fond of its mistress, was never absent from her while in the house, and outside used to follow her like a dog. But in course of time, this lady bought a parrot, and pussy must have thought her mistress was paying the bird too much attention, for all of a sudden the cat’s nature seemed entirely changed. It did not respond to the lady’s caresses; it would sit for an hour at the time, looking with gathered brows at the parrot, and instead of accompanying her mistress abroad she remained sulking in doors. In truth, the cat was breaking her heart; her glossy fur got dry and rough, and at last she refused all food; so, as she really loved her cat, this lady parted with her parrot, although with great reluctance. Pussy recovered at once; the effect seemed magical; and in a few days she was herself again, the same fun-loving, frolicsome, loving wee cat she had been before.
A gentleman had a cat whom he called “Pimento”—the pimento-tree, the reader will remember, is said to permit no rival plant to grow within its shade. There was another cat in the same house; but Pimento, although otherwise a nice cat, and gentle and loving in the extreme, would never allow his master to pay the slightest attention to this cat. If he did, there was a row at once; and if his master protected the other cat, then Pimento at once left the room growling, and in high dudgeon. (See [Note T], Addenda.)
“In a house where I resided,” says a correspondent (see [Note U], Addenda), “there were two cats, a young and an old one. The young one was a smart clever animal with a decided turn for humour, the other liked to be taken notice of. One day I was paying some attention to the latter, which, of course, was highly pleased. With tail erect, it walked backward and forward. The young one, which had been pretending to be asleep, suddenly seized hold of the tail of the other with its paw, gave it a sharp pull, and was again in a sleeping attitude ere the other had time to look round. The old one turned about, saw the young one apparently asleep, and me laughing. It immediately retired to a corner of the room, thinking no doubt that I was a double villain.”
Did the reader ever observe how very fond cats are of sitting on paper. One can hardly have a pet puss, and not observe this trait. If you have a book in your lap, up jumps Pussy, and seats herself right on top of it. If you are writing a letter, Pussy creeps along the table, singing so that you can hardly be angry with her, and places herself on the writing materials. My present puss prefers the Daily Telegraph to anything else for a bed at night, or to have her kittens on; indeed, if the Standard is lying on the same sofa, and she gets on to it by mistake, she will very soon get off, and on to the Telegraph.
Are cats revengeful? Never as a rule. Yet they do sometimes display little pettish outbursts of temper. They would not be like women if they did not do that.