Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

I did feel a little ashamed, for I remembered that Karl could not get a kidney. The man at the store told him they were all sold, adding, "If that cat of yours will not feed on anything but kidneys, he will die of kidney disease." It was not their fault, and I did feel mean.

Every Sunday Karl and Will studied their lesson. They would sit at the table with their books, while I had a hassock in front of them, with my little Bible open on it. Here I would pose for an hour, with my paws folded on the open book, looking from one to the other, for I loved them dearly.

This Sunday I would not look at my book. The boys tried to make me, but were obliged to give it up. I behaved just like a bad boy, running after imaginary balls, jumping over the hassock, sitting on the Bible, till at last Will said: "I will call Aunt Milly. We shall never get our lesson if she does not take Daisy away."

This did not please me. I just picked up my book, and when my mistress came in I was sitting at my hassock, my claws clasped over my Bible (though it was upside down), looking as innocent as possible.

All this naughtiness because I wanted to be a choir boy and walk in the processional with the rest of the boys. I think it would have been better if they had taken me to church.

One thing always gave me great pleasure: I never could tire of cat stories. I think it may be a help to the understanding of cat nature if I give the most interesting ones for people to read.

With the horrors of vivisection and other cruelties practised upon animals, it is time for them to assert themselves. Even a cat's voice may be heard. Children can be taught to respect the rights of animals if their parents will interest themselves in their dumb servants.

My mistress met two very nice ladies one summer while in the country. They were cat-lovers, and gave many nice anecdotes of cats they had known. I will tell you one I particularly liked.

A friend of theirs had a great many cats, and as their number increased she felt the necessity of giving up some of them. She found homes for all but one; and one day, when her friends were visiting her, she asked them if they would take the cat and drop her near some nice house, where they had no doubt she would soon make a home. It was not a very pleasant commission, but they could not very well refuse.

Pussy had evidently heard their conversation, for she tried to hide from them. She was very quiet, never responding to their coaxing, covering her face with her paws in great sorrow. They drove many miles into the country before they could think of parting with her.