One evening when we cats had had our usual frolic in the library and bedtime was drawing near, I went to the door, as usual, and gave mistress the look which told her that I wanted to go out. She opened the door in the kindest manner, and as it was a beautiful moonlight night I mounted the fence and went over to Jack’s house, for I had something very important to tell him. I had heard Guy tell mistress that very evening not to let us stay out much evenings, because he had been told that it was the fashion in schools and colleges to dissect cats, so they can see how we are put together. He said that one of the boys had told him that they just go out nights and get any cats they can catch, or that will come to them; and that the majority of cats gathered up in this way are somebody’s pets because they are so much more tame than others, and more easily caught.
When I told this to Jack, it made him very indignant. “The idea of such an outrage perpetrated on us poor unsuspecting cats,” said he. “Where is the Humane Agent? Why don’t he arrest the thieves?”
I told Jack that from what I had heard, one might steal all the cats in Christendom, except the highly favored Angoras and Persians, and he could not be arrested, because the law does not protect cats.
When Jack heard this he could hardly contain himself for anger, and he invited me to go over to his yard and sit on the bench with him, where we could talk the matter over quietly. But just then his mistress called him, and being a very obedient cat, he went right into the house. I went over toward my poplar tree, and as I neared my house I heard my mistress calling me also. But it was such a pleasant evening, the moonlight was so beautiful and the stars shone so brightly, I really could not bear the thought of going in. Even the whetting of the carving knife did not tempt me, and I did not heed my dear mistress’ call. It seems as though I could hear even now that tender voice falling softly on the night air: “Come, Meow, come,” before she finally closed the door. How dearly I paid for my disobedience, I will tell you.
After staying up in the poplar tree awhile, I concluded to go in, but the doors were all shut, and the house was dark. I called at the kitchen door, but nobody heard me, so I crawled into a soap box in which I found an old blanket, put there for me, no doubt, by my thoughtful mistress. But for some reason or other I could not get that dreadful dissecting story off my mind, and while I sat in my box thinking about it, I saw an old black cat,—not Jack—come along on the fence ledge and descend into my yard. I jumped up immediately and asked him what business he had prowling around in my yard at that time of night.
“I am looking for you,” said he, “and I want you to go with me to visit a friend down by the railroad.”
On the whole the cat had quite a distinguished appearance, and I must say I felt somewhat flattered by his attention. Besides that, he was so polite and kind, and I so lonely. Well, to make a long story short, I accepted his invitation.
My companion said we must hurry, as it was a long distance, so we started on our journey at once. We walked to the end of Poplar Avenue, farther than I had walked before in all my life; then we crossed several railroad tracks, and for a short distance we went on the top of a fence inclosing a beautiful yard with trees and shrubs and flowers. Quite a distance from the fence stood a large white mansion, and there my companion alighted and bade me follow him.
“Here is where my friend lives,” said he, “and his name is Cæsar Augustus Napoleon, so you can imagine he is no ordinary cat.”
I felt very proud to think I should soon meet such a distinguished cat, but we had not gone many steps when a very loud bark frightened me, and I saw an enormous bulldog come toward us. I retraced my steps to the fence, and ran away as fast as I could. But I must have gone the wrong way, for I could not find the railroad tracks which we had crossed.