Cat and Dog; Or, Memoirs of Puss and the Captain

by Julia Charlotte Maitland

I saw myself now as others saw me,—an uncommon condition either for dogs or men,—and I watched my own deportment in all my states of mind and stages of life. I saw myself first a mere puppy, not worth notice. The puppy grew, and I saw it as a dog; a fine, well-bred, and certainly a fortunate dog. Then as a clever, knowing, useful dog; a gentle, patient, obedient dog. Sometimes perhaps an awkward or foolish dog; but those were pardonable faults, while I was certainly a brave, honest, and faithful dog. But at last I saw myself as a jealous dog; and I paused, startled at the strange light in which my conduct appeared. How silly, unreasonable, and fractious I had been! I plainly perceived that what I had taken for injured dignity and wounded affection was nothing but pride and envy; that I had not a single ground of complaint, but that my own ill-temper might have justly given offence to my best friends; and while I had fancied myself setting so high a value upon Lily's regard, I was recklessly running the risk of losing it altogether. Happily I had been spared that punishment, however well deserved. Lily's friendship had never failed me. She had either excused or not perceived my faults, and we had parted on the best possible terms.

Now that I could view matters more justly, I was quite out of patience with myself for fancying that I should be happy if I no longer saw Lily nursing that kitten. Happy indeed! There was no chance of my being troubled with such a sight, and I was miserable! I would have put up with all the cats and kittens that were met coming from St. Ives; I would have tried to settle the quarrel between the Kilkenny cats who ate each other up, all but the tips of their tails;—any thing to see Lily once more, even if she chose to nurse all the kittens of "Catland."

But it was too late; my regrets were all in vain; and the only course that seemed left for me now was to give up the rest of my days to brooding over my sorrows and my faults. But before I had quite devoted myself to this line of life, I gave a glance at my shadow in the glass doing the same. There I saw him moping away all his time; making no amends for his bad conduct, no attempts at behaving better; utterly useless, sulky, and disagreeable; in fact, more foolish than ever.

"No," thought I, as I jumped up and shook myself all over, "I will not have this distressing experience for nothing; I will make good use of it; I cannot recall the past, but I will act differently for the future;" and down I lay again to make plans for the future. Coming events cast no shadows before, either in the glass or in my dreams. I knew nothing about what I might, could, would, or should do. The Past I had lost, the Future was not in my power; and what remained to me? Perhaps I might never have an opportunity of behaving well again.

I was fast relapsing into despondency, when suddenly I was aroused from my dreams by a sound once odious to me. I raised myself upon my front paws and listened. There was no mistake, I heard it again; a thin and timid mew, dying away in the distance, and sounding as if it proceeded from the mere shadow of a cat. But faint and shadowy as it was, I recognised it; it recalled me to realities, and the conviction of my right line of conduct flashed across my mind. The Present—the present moment was mine. I could only take warning by the past, and hope for the future, but I must act now. I have but to take every opportunity when it offers itself, and there would be no fear of not having opportunities enough. Here was one ready at hand. Instead of worrying that kitten, who was now in my power, I would magnanimously endure her existence. I would do more; I would let her know that she had nothing any longer to fear from me; and in pursuance of this kind intention, I walked about the room in search of her.

I soon descried her, perched upon the top of a high bookcase, not daring to come down for fear of me. She was altered by recent events, though not so much as I. She looked forlorn and uncomfortable, but not shaggy, haggard, or dirty. The regard to her toilette which had characterised her in better days still clung to her, and made her neat and tidy in misfortune. The blue ribbon round her neck was indeed faded, but in other respects she looked as clean and white and sleek as Lily herself. She had evidently licked herself all over every day, instead of moping in the dirt. She and Lily had always been somewhat alike in point of cleanliness. Indeed, I once imagined that Lily must lick herself all over in order to look so clean; but on further consideration I had reason to believe that she commonly attained her object by plunging into cold water, more after my own fashion.

But to return to the kitten. There she stood, the very picture of fear; her legs stretched, her tail arched, her back raised, trying to assume the best posture of defence she could, but evidently believing it of no use. She mewed louder at every step I took nearer. Even if I had been inclined to harm her, she was safe enough on the top of that high bookcase; but she did not know that. In her inexperience, she fancied me able to spring about the world as she did, and expected every moment that I should perch on the carved oak crown, and seize her in my mouth, jump down again and crunch her as she would a mouse.

She began running backwards and forwards on the top of her bookcase, mewing piteously at every turn. I understood her language: it meant, "Oh, what shall I do? Mew, mew! Pray, my lord, have pity upon an unfortunate kitten! Mew, mew, mew! If you will let me run away this time, I will keep out of your lordship's sight all the rest of my life. Mew, mew, mew! Oh dear, I had not the least intention of intruding on your highness; I thought your majesty was in the stable. I wish I was in the coal-cellar myself. Oh, oh, pray! oh, mew!"

So she went on for a long time, in too great a fright to observe the encouragement and condescension which I threw into my countenance and manner. I sat down in front of the bookcase, and holding my head on one side, looked up at her with an expression of gentle benevolence, which I thought must re-assure the most timid spirit. It had some effect. She ceased running from side to side, and stopped opposite me, her yellow eyes fixed on mine. I returned her gaze, and wagged my tail. She lowered hers, which bad been held up like a peacock's, and reduced to its natural dimensions. After a sufficient amount of staring, we began to understand one another, and Pussy's mews were in a very different tone, and one much more satisfactory to me.