“Often—it makes me crazy to hear them talk about the lovely times they have spinning along from village to village, and town to town.”
“Why don’t you sneak into the automobile some day when they’re going out, and hide till they get somewhere near your old home. They’d be sure to go in somewhere for a drink, then you could steal out, and make a bolt for your old woman and the cottage.”
“There’s no place to hide in the car,” she said. “They’d discover me.”
“Well then, start out some night, and take the journey in relays. A strong young cat could run miles in a night. By morning, you’d be away from the crowded district.”
“But where would I get my breakfast?” she asked.
“Oh fudge!” I replied. “I see you’re one of those cautious cats that want every step of the way checked out. You’ve got to rely a little on your own initiative, to get on in this world.”
She showed some temper at this, and said snappishly, “I can’t change myself. I’m made timid.”
“Then you’ve got to trust to luck or to a friend.”
“Will you help me?” she said pitifully.
She was a perfect goose of a cat, still I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “I’ll give you some advice,” I said. “Stop eating meat, and take more exercise. You’re too young a cat to have mange.”