Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

I opened my eyes wide (I know that I have very handsome eyes, and love to show them off, just as boys and girls do); for I did not know what a thanksgiving meant.

"Yes," she said, "I have just received a note from our friend, Miss W. You know her." (I winked in answer, for I did admire her.) "Every year she sends us a turkey, with a basket of goodies all cooked, ready to eat. This note tells me that she will send the basket Thursday morning. Now you do not understand what 'Thanksgiving' means, and I will explain it to you."

I settled myself comfortably on her lap; she always put on a clean white apron to keep the hairs from my coat off of her dress. I resented this, for I could not see, for the life of me, why cats' hair was not quite as good as camels' hair that her dress was made of. And I just crawled under her apron one day when she was reading, and I liked the feeling of the soft wool better than I did the cambric apron, it was so woolly and warm.

I had just snoozed off, dreaming that I was asleep between the camel's humps she had told me of, when all at once she dropped her book, saying, "Oh, Daisy, just look at my dress!" And sure enough, it was covered all over with gray hair, for I was shedding my fur fast.

I was really ashamed of myself, and said: "I am just like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. So I will just go under the bed, the best place for a 'Hyde,' and repent of my wickedness. I do not know why I do these things, but my mistress loves me all the same."

So this afternoon I sat on her nice apron, listening to her story of Thanksgiving like a well-behaved cat.

This is what she told me: That on the last Thursday of November it usually occurred. The Governor of the State made a proclamation, which was read in all the churches and published in the papers. The day was set apart for giving thanks for all the blessings God had bestowed on us during the year.

Of course I had to listen to all this, but I was awful anxious for her to get to that basket. But for once she was very tiresome, and now I am glad she was, for I have an idea of Thanksgiving I shall never forget.

Once, she said, people invited all their family, no matter how many or how poor they were, to dine. They always attended church, and then returned to a bountiful dinner of turkey, chickens, plum puddings of mammoth size, and pies of every variety. All the poor of the family would eat all they could for the present, and then fill in for the future.

The children, who never get too much, had nuts and candy in plenty, and the day was altogether lovely to them all, more particularly to those who gave than to those who received.