Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

After his return, he went to Germany to study. In all his letters he remembered me. I was just as much interested in his progress as his other friends were, and enjoyed the photographs of his pictures he sent home.

In my opinion he was a great artist—better than the "old masters" they talk so much about. The "young masters" are good enough for me. He wanted to paint my picture, but Miss Milly refused, just as she had all other offers of this kind.

I did not like it, for I thought my friend would do me justice, and it might make his fortune, if exhibited. I used to look in the glass and pose, thinking what a lovely picture I would make.

I say it, and I suppose you will say, "What a vain cat!" But how about these society women (and men, as to that) who dress in velvets and jewels, and exhibit their charms, and so much of them that it makes a modest cat blush? What if they don't say, as I do, that they would make a lovely picture, do they not act it? You will soon discover, if you never knew it before, as you read my history of many cats, that animals are often superior to the human race.

My mistresses would often dress me and make me pose to please them, and for the life of me I could not see why I should not be painted for the benefit of others. They would tie a half-handkerchief on my head, the point trimmed with lace just between my ears, the ends tied under my chin. They called it a "Marie Stuart point." Whatever that might be, I knew not. I afterward learned that she was a queen, and was executed. It pleased my cat vanity to represent a queen.

I myself performed all the tricks I could think of. One day, being in a large armchair, I just posed, myself. I sat down, hung my two paws over the arm of the chair, my head on one side, my "Marie Stuart point" all right, the bow tied under my chin, my collar and padlock in sight, and then and there I made an impression never to be forgotten by those who saw me. As long as memory lasts they will remember me in all my beauty.

My mistress fell on her knees beside me, calling me all the pet names she could think of, while Miss Eleanor said, "If ever a cat lived that could equal Daisy, that cat I would like to see!"

I remained a long time in the same attitude, proud of my success. When Miss Milly brought a little hand-glass for me to see myself, I did not wonder they were delighted, and I wished they would let me pose for the benefit of poor cats. I knew I could draw a crowd.

I never would pose for those I did not care for. I tore off the handkerchief as soon as they put it on, and taking it by the lace edge, I shut my teeth on it and dragged it under the bed. After this they only asked me to pose for my friends. For them I was very willing to do my best. I enjoyed being called a "darling" and a "love" by pretty girls, just as any boy would enjoy it.

One friend of my mistress, a charming little woman and a real philanthropist, was quite fond of me. She was the mother of my dear girl friend, whom I introduced to you at my party. This good little woman was a real friend to animals of all kinds, but she particularly loved cats.