“Don Juan,” says a lady, “is a beautiful dark tabby, with back almost black, legs ringed like those of a tiger, short ears honourably scarred by various encounters with rats, stoats, etc., which he has succeeded in killing; long tail, also ringed with tabby; rich tabby shirt, around which there are beautiful rings of black and tabby; paws with black pads—a most loving and lovable old cat. Two years ago we left home for a ‘parson’s week,’ during which time the house, pussy included, was in the charge of servants. The first sound which met us upon opening the garden-gate on our return, was a most pitiful scream from poor Juan, who recognized our voices and came bounding across the garden to greet us. For more than a week he could hardly be persuaded to leave us, but spent his time in purring and rubbing round us, as though to assure himself of our presence.”
“My own cat,” writes a lady correspondent, “although greatly petted by its master, appears quite wretched whenever I go on a visit. After mewing piteously at my door for a day or two, it leaves the house, often remaining away for weeks; but his delight at seeing me, the fond rush towards me, and his song of joy are very pretty.” The same lady gives an account of a venerable old tortoise-shell puss, who goes to sea with its master,—officer in an East Indiaman,—and keeps watch with him by night or day in all weathers. No wonder he is fond of her.
I know an instance of a cat that was very strongly attached to a boy. When this boy was sent to a distant school, pussy, after mourning for him several days, took to the woods and never returned.
There is surely strong proof of how deeply a cat loves its owner, in the anxiety and sorrow it evinces on seeing that owner in grief or in pain.
I have an instance of a cat that is extremely attached to a little boy. This young gentleman has very great objections to having his nails cut. Whenever this necessary operation is being performed, he sets up a howling which very speedily brings his faithful playmate pussy to his aid. She comes running with all speed, and growling in unmistakable anger. She jumps on his knee, and after giving him one hurried kiss and embrace, as much as to say, “Be of good cheer, I shan’t let them hurt you,” she wheels round and stands on the defensive; and the nurse has to retire and wait for a better opportunity.
Another cat is extremely attached to a little girl, whom she follows about wherever she goes. When the child comes to grief, in some of the various ways incidental to early years, pussy does all she can in her humble way to pacify and comfort her, rubbing herself round her and caressing her, and saying, “Oh! oh!” in the same fond pitying tone she uses to her kittens.
I was called the other day to see a lady in a hysterical fit; and it was most affecting to witness the grief of her poor cat. Hearing her mistress’s screams, she darted into the room, and at once threw herself on the lady’s breast, licking her neck and hands and face in the most passionate manner, stopping only occasionally to look about and growl fiercely at me, as if I had been the cause of her mistress’s illness.
The following anecdote shows, I think, in a very marked manner, how deeply attached pussy can be to her master, and how forgiving is her nature.
Robert D——, a young man of nineteen, lived in the same house with his mother and sisters. He was by no means an exemplary youth. In fact, if he had had his due, the ravens, according to Solomon, would have made short work with his eyes. He had early taken to habits of dissipation, and was in the constant custom of bullying his poor mother, for money to continue his debauches. He must have had some little good in him however, for he was fond of his mother’s beautiful black cat. Not so fond, however, as pussy was of him; for, poor thing, she never seemed happy save in his company. One morning he was leaving his mother’s room after an unusually stormy scene, when pussy met him at the top of the stair, running towards him with a fond cry, and singing as she rubbed herself against his leg.
“Curse you!” he cried, and kicked her to the door-mat. The look the poor cat gave him would have softened a less hard heart; in him it only roused the innate devil.