You say that the Cat is treacherous, a thief and a lover of places, not persons. This is the sum and substance of humanity's grievances against the feline. I know of no other despicable attributes ascribed to the Cat, and admit that these would be enough to condemn her, were they true. But they are not true, saving only in exceptional cases. Providentially for the Cat, she is provided with natural means of defence and uses her claws at times and very justly when imposed upon. I never knew, or heard of, a Cat who deliberately and out of pure viciousness, scratched or fought a person whom she might have reasonably supposed to be her friend. Be just and admit this fact.
Concerning the charge of thievery, I admit that Pussy's derelictions have been proven in exceptional cases, but plead, in partial justification, the neglect of master or mistress to properly provide for her, and that her food was due to her for labor performed, upon the principle that "the workman is worthy of his hire." Consider that Pussy has ridden your house of mice and rats, and continues, day by day, to perform her duty of keeping the thieves from your dwelling—that if you profit by her prognostications, she tells you, far better than a barometer, the truth about the weather, long before there comes a change—that she even guards your home from intruders—that she is the first, if permitted to do so, to welcome your home-coming—that she is ever ready, with her gentle purr, to express her love for you and with her soothing song—the gentlest ever heard—to calm your troubled mind. Think for a moment how her winning ways and pretty playfulness have amused you for many an hour and won a warm place in your heart for the little household pet, then justify her for helping herself when you either forgot or refused to give her the nourishment she had so richly earned. This is by way of justification of the feline, in the exceptional case, when she takes what may not be regarded as technically her own, although the equivalent of the same is rightfully her due. Ask yourself if, when you walk into your landlady's larder and help yourself to the viands there because your luncheon is not ready on time, you are not as great a criminal as Pussy, who has been equally neglected. Concerning the accusation that she is fond of places and not of persons, I will have something definite to say further on.
There is one undeniable fact concerning animals, which is that when associated with man they acquire his ways and imitate his habits. Thus the Cat, but, in a more delicate manner, soon takes upon herself the temper, mannerisms, actions and ways of her mistress, and in her life imitates the actions of the one who is her admiration and involuntary teacher. Cats, in short, are like ourselves, and are subject to the same rules that govern all humanity throughout the habitable globe. I cannot better illustrate and prove this fact than by relating a story that came under my observation, and from which, while I vouch for the truth of it, you may draw your own conclusions.
[IV.]
NELLIE AND TOM.
I was a boy of eighteen years of age when my mother brought home with her, all the way from the State of Maine, a Maltese Pussy, of full breed. We called her "Nellie." After mother had buttered Nellie's feet, a process which she said would always keep a cat from running away from home, the aristocratic Nellie became an important member of our household, and never deserted us.
One day I brought home to Nellie a companion who had been presented to me by a friend. "Tom," as we called the boy, was a pure Maltese, and a giant of his kind, a cheerful, clever and peaceable fellow and an ornament and pet, for he was admired by everybody who saw him. His feet were also buttered, and after a little spat with Nellie, who, at first, could see no just reason why Tom should encroach upon her domain, the two became fast friends, and finally married and raised several litters of pure Maltese kittens, all of whom we gave to longing friends save one, which we kept for Nellie's sake.
Tom remained true to his marriage vows for a long time, but one day, about six months after his advent in the household, he was missing, and the neighborhood was searched for Tom. He remained away until the following afternoon, when he returned, looking sheepish, while his appearance bore unmistakable evidence of his having been indulging in a debauch. Tom was very crestfallen and expressed his sorrow to his spouse Nellie, who would have nothing to do with him for several days. Poor Tom was disconsolate, and applied to me for sympathy. Of course every member of the family reproved Tom for his waywardness, but the story of the "Prodigal Son" and his return, in tatters, was not forgotten, although the fatted calf was omitted, and I was the first to forgive and console Tom. I used my influence so successfully with Nellie, who was very fond of me, that once more Tom was taken into Nellie's favor and everything went on as usual, excepting that Nellie gave every evidence of keeping a close eye upon her erring liege-lord, who was not fully restored to her confidence.
Some five weeks after, while Nellie was nursing a new brood of kittens, Tom turned up missing again. We did not go to any trouble that time to search for him, nor did we feel any anxiety concerning the wandering minstrel, knowing from our former experience that he was big enough and old enough to take care of himself. Three weary weeks for Nellie went by while she was worrying for her Romeo, although she tried to conceal her anxiety behind an appearance of unconcern, while lavishing her affections upon her infants. At the end of the third week Tom leisurely strolled into the house and sought Nellie's presence. He bore an air of bravado which seemed to say that he was lord and master of his own family, that he had a right to go whither, and stay there as long as he pleased. But he was battered and torn, almost beyond recognition. One eye was completely closed, much of his fur was gone, he limped when he walked, one ear was entirely bitten through and a portion of it missing, and his head was covered with bloody wounds, while his general appearance was emaciated, tattered and forlorn. Nellie's tail was a sight to behold when she spied Tom, and she raised herself to a sitting posture and threw upon the debauchee a withering look of contempt which sent his tail between his legs in less time than it takes to tell it, while he completely lost his braggadocio air and slunk off to a corner of the room and Nellie returned to her babies.