Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic

by Olive Thorne Miller

It was curious to see the number of pets that were being carried; birds, of course, many in cages, but some in the hands—such as parrots. One woman had three cages of canaries, which she had the greatest difficulty in holding; another had a birdcage in one hand and a great cat in the other arm. There was no end to the small dogs in arms—barking and howling, most of them; but the cats were struggling as if scared out of their wits. Sometimes a bird or a cat would break away and disappear at once in the crowd, and I wondered where the poor things went. But many were carried safely, I am sure, for the park, where we all—thousands of us—spent the day and night, seemed to have almost as many animals as people.

In the park I found the baby. She was sitting on the ground, holding in her arms a big cat. She was smiling and talking to “Kitty,” and did not seem at all frightened by the crowd and the confusion around her. I thought her mother must have left her for a minute, and I sat down beside her to keep watch that no harm came to her.

There I sat all that day and night, but no one came to claim her. She could not tell me anything, of course, but she took kindly to me. Indeed, she seemed to adopt me from the first minute, and she was so sweet I couldn’t bear to leave her. She never once cried except when she got very hungry, and when she found, in the morning, that her cat had gone.

In the park I found a baby ... and I sat down beside it.

I had, after the first attempt, given up going about looking for my sister. I knew she would be looking for me, and I could not bear to leave the baby, as I said. Through that long night I sat watching the city burn, holding in my arms the dear little thing, who slept through it all. I was so excited that I almost forgot that I was not dressed. Many people around me were in the same plight, but it was a warm night, so that we did not suffer.

But how alone I did feel! I did not know whether Belle and Harry were alive, nor how I should ever get home. It seemed as if we should all be burned up, anyway. The park was almost as crowded as a city; people everywhere around me; some lying asleep, tired out, on the bare ground; others mourning over their losses, and others guarding the few things they had saved. One woman near me had two pillow-cases full of things, which she sat on all night, and another had a bedquilt, which she spread out for her four children to lie on.

It’s very queer, but I seem to forget about a good deal of the time the next day, for I can hardly remember how long it was when, after hours of walking, it seemed to me, I reached the place where food was being given out, the baby in my arms, of course. And not until I had eaten a piece of bread and seen her nibbling on one, too, did I seem to come to myself and rouse myself to see what I could do.

All this time baby was still mourning her lost kitty, and trying to take every cat she saw. It was wonderful how many people had cats with them; some held by a string, some in birdcages, but many held in arms. When the people got food I noticed that they always seemed to share with their pets. There were a great many dogs, but they were not so wild as the cats; they stayed by their friends.