Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

My misfortune had one bright side; it gave us nice neighbors. Very congenial ones they were.

When my mistress left me, to go in to tea that afternoon, they thought I had followed them, and had not missed me. Two tramp children shouted at the window, "Missus, your cat's killed! We seed a dog kill him."

They ran out to question the children, but could get no satisfaction. Then they called, "Daisy, Daisy!" all around the house and grounds; for they could not believe I was lost. The children must be mistaken.

There were some young people playing tennis on the Anchorage grounds,—the Admiral's place opposite,—and they came over when they saw Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly, and said they had seen the attack. They said the loud barking of a dog and a scream from the girl who was wheeling a baby carriage called their attention. They thought Daisy was killed; they saw him move, but could not tell in what direction; they said they did not believe it could be far off, as he must have received his death wound. The dog was a fierce bulldog, and belonged to the girl who had screamed. She had wheeled the carriage off quickly and called the dog, who was howling and bleeding from the encounter. They said, had they only been able to get a pistol, they would have shot the dog at once; but no one dare interfere with an enraged bull dog. And they had no time, for it all passed so quickly.

They came over and very kindly helped in the search, going down cellar, looking in the cold air box, and over the grounds. Where I could have taken myself so quickly, they could not understand. After their dinner they searched again—without success, however.

The Admiral's charming daughter, with her friend from a neighboring place, was very kind, calling the next day, trying to comfort my distracted friends.

It was after twelve o'clock before they went into the house; then they could not rest, walking out on the piazza, or sitting in the bay-window, and starting at every sound or shadow. Miss Milly said if they could only give me Christian burial, she could bear it better. It was a night never to be forgotten by them, and they loved me more, if possible, for what they had suffered when they thought they had lost me.

The young ladies I was soon quite intimate with. They brought ice-cream and jelly to me, and beautiful flowers. Of course we understood it was a delicate attention offered through me; in fact, it was using me as a "cat's paw." We had nice times sitting in the porch or on the piazza. They were so bright and chatty, talking about books they had read. I could not read books, but I could sit on them and look wise, and I never was known to scratch one.

In the next house were two pet cats. One was Maltese, the other black, with white breast and paws. They were very large and dignified. There was one singular feature about them: both had double thumbs. After I became acquainted with them I asked them why they did not join a circus or museum. Oh, my! how mad they were, for they were very proud and exclusive; and at first were very shy of associating with me till they saw what nice company we had. They said they thought we must be poor, for we kept no servant.

I told them we were poor, but we did not judge people by their money; that I guessed that so far as brains and culture and good breeding were concerned, my mistresses could beat the neighborhood, if we did not keep help. Then I pushed open the screen door and banged it in their faces. I was so very mad I never looked at them for a long time, and kept on the piazza at the other side of the house.