When we returned into the house mistress had fitted up three nice comfortable corners for us in the kitchen, one for Punch and Judy, one for Budge and Toddy, and a nice big one for me and my babies. In the library there was a window-seat just like the one we had had on Poplar Avenue.
On the same day a young lady came whom mistress called Bettie. We thought at first she was a visitor, because she was so kind and gentle to us cats. But we soon learned that she was the housekeeper.
I have heard it said that the reason so many people leave their cats behind when they move into another house is because they believe it brings bad luck to move one.
It don’t seem to be so with our mistress; for each time she has moved so far as I know she has taken with her to the new house from three to seven cats, and each time it has been to a finer and bigger house than she had before. And now we even have a housekeeper. I should think it is more likely to be the other way: bad luck comes to people who cruelly desert helpless and dependent creatures and leave them unprovided for.
On the other hand, the notion prevails among some people, as I have heard, that it is good luck to have a cat follow you. Of course, it may be presuming too much for a cat to give her opinion so freely; but it seems to me that this good luck will only come to people who will take a kind interest in a poor stray, and who will try to find out where she belongs, or else procure another home for her.
Our new house was on Elmwood Place, and we found to our great delight that our next door neighbors were Miss Wallace, and her little Nellie that she told us about that day on the boat. Nellie is a white cat, but why this should make her think she is any better than we colored cats, I cannot understand. She would sit for hours on her window-sill, and hump her back and hiss every time one of us came in sight; so we very soon concluded that as for Nellie we wouldn’t waste any time trying to be neighborly.
“Toddy, Mrs. Smith’s Particular Friend”
Our neighbor on the other side is a little King Charles spaniel “Bosie,” which is short for Bo-Peep. If we happened to be out when he took his exercise he would nearly bark himself hoarse. But we soon gave him to understand that he was not big enough to scare us.
Across the street at Mrs. Smith’s lived “Patsy,” a water spaniel, who always came over at meal-time. If he had not been sold and taken away I dare say mistress would have been obliged to change the location of our dinner plate, for Patsy’s nose would almost cover the entire dish, and when he had eaten all he wanted there never was a mouthful left. Still we were sorry to lose Patsy, for he was more like dear old Dennis than any dog I have ever seen.