“When I was a little girl in Switzerland, we had horses, cows, dogs, cats and rabbits, and I was very fond of them all. I suppose the reason I have become so fond of cats is because I have for many years been deprived of the other pets, and for some time while boarding, I didn’t even have a cat. But just before Guy was born we started housekeeping in a down-town cottage, and on the very first day an enormous black cat came to the kitchen door, pleading for admittance. Having found that there were mice and rats in the cellar, I gladly let him in and from that day I never saw a rat or a mouse in the house. We fixed him a comfortable corner in the basement, and named him ‘Tom.’ From the first he acted like one thoroughly familiar with the premises, and no wonder: I learned afterward from the neighbors that he had lived in that house for many years with successive tenants.
“But one morning I heard some very queer noises in the basement, and when I went down to see what it was, I found Tom lying in his basket with four of the tiniest kittens I had ever seen, and looking up at me so pleadingly, as if to say: ‘You’ll be good to them, won’t you?’
“We knew then that ‘Tom’ was not an appropriate name for our cat, for whoever heard of a mother cat named ‘Tom’? So we told Guy’s nurse to find a new name for her, and because she was so black, Emma named her ‘Old Blackie.’”
“What has become of Old Blackie and her kittens?” said Aunt Minnie.
Mistress continued: “Blackie raised her family, two tigers and two Maltese; the Maltese were named ‘Jumbo’ and ‘Fritz,’ the tigers ‘Meow’ and ‘Peggy.’ Jumbo and Peggy were adopted by the doctor who attended Guy; Fritz was taken home by our milkman, and I kept Meow. But the following year Guy’s health was not good, and we went to my father’s to spend the summer on the farm. In the meantime some more kittens had come to Blackie, and I arranged with my neighbor’s little girl to take care of the whole family during my absence, and to find homes for the little ones, if she could. Meow we took with us, in a large bird cage covered with a cloth.”
As I listened to the story of Old Blackie, I was reminded of old Peter, a cat that was deserted by his people who left him in the cellar. He was nearly drowned when the landlord found him, and took him to his own beautiful home; and he named him Peter, because he had found him walking in the water.
Aunt Minnie had by this time become so interested in mistress’ story, that she asked her to also relate the history of Meow.
“That was my first experience traveling with a cat,” said mistress. “Emma took care of Meow, and I held the baby.
“On the farm Meow became very popular, and she and grandpa were the best of friends. I well remember how at meal-times she would always sit on the broad window-sill in the dining-room, and as soon as grandpa finished, and began to lean back in his big armchair, she would spring on his shoulder and caress him. Then he would prepare her a dainty dinner and carry it out to the kitchen with her perched on his shoulder. I also remember that when her first kittens came she was determined to put them into my bureau drawer. But I took her out into the kitchen and made her a nice soft bed in an old cheese box, where she raised her family and became a very good mother.”
“But where is Meow now?” said Aunt Minnie.