Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

"There were three cats belonging to the house that had left when it was closed; but on finding it inhabited again, they had returned, as cats love to keep to one home. They were well treated, and repaid the kindness by clearing the house of rats.

"As the family left the man and his wife who had worked for them in the house during the winter, they never had trouble with rats again.

"They had a picture of Dido taken with the baby, and all their friends made a great fuss over her."

I did wish I could see this picture; for Miss Milly always shows me pictures, and I enjoy them very much. Why, I could take the photograph cases and tell you every one, if I could speak.

Sometimes we have real fun over the old-fashioned ones. My mistress laughs with us, and says, "This is the family 'Rogues' Gallery,' they do look so funny." And they never show them to strangers, for they say we love them too well to let any one else laugh at their old-fashioned looks.

I do love pictures, but I have been taken to places where they had horrid crayons on the walls, and the eyes stared at me so I did want to scratch them out. I hate a chromo, but a nice, peaceful landscape makes me happy; and I often see one where I would like to lie down and dream, for a cat can have real artistic taste.

I don't think I care much for babies. I suppose it is because I have never been around them; and when I have been, the mothers have never allowed me to get acquainted with them.

I was very cross one day when a friend of my mistress brought her baby to see us. It was all dressed in white, with a white astrachan hood with goats' hair fringe, and it looked just like a little poodle. I wanted to lick it all over when Miss Milly said, "Here, Daisy; come and see this dear baby." But its mother cried out, "Oh, don't let that horrid cat touch my baby!" just as if I was a bear or a tiger.

I was so insulted I just walked into a corner. But the baby had seen me, and held out its little hand and crowed. I looked away, but my mistress said, "Daisy will not hurt your baby," and she took me in her arms and let the baby put his soft little hand on my ear. It laughed and crowed, while I licked its hand. The mother looked as if she thought I would devour it.

When Miss Milly put me down, seeing the mother's uneasiness, the way that innocent little creature yelled, kicked, and beat his mother was dreadful. I fled under the bed, saying to myself, "How glad I am that we are unmarried people, with no children to raise a tempest for nothing."