Along toward spring one night we heard bells ringing and men shouting, and I ran out in the yard to see a great glare of fire along the river just a short distance above our home.
A large building was all ablaze, and it burned to the ground.
The next morning a poor little cat came to the place. She had been in the fire and was horribly burned.
Brother’s grandpa brought her into the barn and gave her some milk, and after a while she crept into my house to rest.
This poor thing was in such a terrible condition that I felt sorry for her and began to talk to her to find out what I could do to help lessen her pain.
I made her welcome to my bed, and we lived together after awhile, for she said my thick curls made a warm bed for her poor burned sides to rest on, so I tried to help her get well.
By and by the people began to call her “Bob” and say she was “Dick’s cat,” and that pleased me so much that I began to be quite fond of her, and many a cosy nap we had together.
Her burns healed nicely, but half her ears and nearly all her tail was gone. She looked very queer, but she was a gentle little cat.
I licked her ears for her and kept them clean, so they healed nicely, too.
When she had lived with us a month or two I came around to my house one afternoon and there were three tiny gray kittens.