“I wonder if you would run away if I let you out in the yard for a while?” spoke the lady, looking at Blackie. “It is not good for cats, or other animals, to stay in the house all the while, especially in Summer. I think I’ll let you run out in the yard a bit.”
She opened the back door, and Blackie, after sniffing a bit, to make sure there were no dogs about, went out on the back steps. The yard was not as large as the one where Mabel and Arthur lived, nor did it have in it a grape arbor.
“But it doesn’t matter,” thought Blackie. “I shall not stay here very long, especially if I go to the country with the lady. I will be glad to be on a farm once more. Wouldn’t it be queer if she took me to the same farm where I used to live? I would like to see my mother, and my brothers and sisters once more. That little Scratcho was a queer cat!” And Blackie thought of one brother who was named Scratcho because he used to scratch his ear in such a funny way.
Blackie sat on the back steps and looked around Mrs. Thompson’s yard. The cat saw no dogs, nor any other cats, and then, thinking there might, perhaps, be pussies in the yards on either side, Blackie went down the steps.
“Now don’t you run away!” called the lady, playfully shaking her finger at Blackie.
“Pur-r-r-r!” said Blackie, which, I suppose, might be her way of saying that she would not run off.
Down the walk she went, and she looked up at the fences on either side.
“I wonder if there are other cats over there?” thought Blackie. “That fence doesn’t look any higher than mine at home. Perhaps I can jump to the top. I’m going to try.”
Blackie gave a little run, and then jumped for the top of the fence. To her delight she found that she could reach the top, where she clung with her sharp claws.