“Nearly a week after the kittens had been drowned, a servant had occasion to go to an unfrequented part of the cellar, where, to his great astonishment, he saw the cat lying in one corner, with the chicken hugged close to her body, and one paw laid over it as if to protect it from injury.
“Puss and her adopted chicken were brought into a closet in the kitchen, where they continued some time, the cat treating her little charge in every respect as a kitten. Whenever the chicken left the cat to eat the soft dough provided for it, she appeared very uneasy, but on its return, received it with the affection of a mother, purred, and presented the appearance of being perfectly happy.
“The gentleman, being curious to know whether the affection of puss was returned by her protege, carried it to the hen, the cat following with loud cries of distress. But on being released, the chicken at once returned to her attached friend, who received her with enthusiastic delight.
“Some time after, the chicken was, by some accident, killed, and, though another one was tendered her, the cat pined, and was inconsolable for the loss of her favorite.”
“O, father,” cried Minnie, her face glowing with excitement, “wasn’t that strange? I mean to try Fidelle, and see whether she likes chickens.”
“More likely she’ll make a meal of them,” said the lady, laughing. “At any rate, your story only proves my opinion of cats, as thieving, mischievous creatures, to be true. Even she stole a chicken from the hen, the rightful owner of it, and alienated its affections from its own mother.”
“But all her kittens had been taken away from her, and pussies must have something to love, as well as people,” exclaimed Minnie, while her quivering lip and flushed cheeks showed how much she was in earnest in what she said.
“My dear,” remarked her father, “the lady is only joking, to carry out her side of the argument, which, when I have read farther, I am sure she will see is a weak one.”
“Here is a case just in point.”
“A lady had a tame bird which she was in the habit of letting out of its cage every day. When at liberty, it would fly to the top of the mirror, or on the picture frames, and then to the floor, to pick up crumbs.