Now, “Bessy the First” is forest bred. The head keeper, Walter Stratford, has the most perfect confidence in her, and can take any liberties with her.
After I had paid several visits to the menagerie, I thought that she began to recognize me, and therefore cultivated her acquaintance. Now, as soon as I enter the house, Bessy tries to attract my attention, expects to be patted and stroked, her ears to be pulled, and her nose rubbed, just as a pet cat would do.
One day I had an unexpected experience with her. Nearly the whole of the end of the room is occupied by a huge cage, in which Stratford delights in putting all sorts of incongruous animals.
There are several varieties of monkeys, a porcupine, a goat, some rabbits and guinea-pigs, a few geese and ducks, four cats, a coati-mondi, two raccoons, a jackal, a little white Pomeranian dog named Rose, two pigs, and other animals.
Thinking that the goat would like some fresh grass, I went to the lawn, gathered a large handful, and brought it to the goat.
Not a blade of that grass did she get. I had hardly held the grass to the bars when Rose flew at it, drove the goat away, and literally tore the grass out of my hands. Three times did I fetch grass before the goat was allowed to eat a blade of it. Ever since that time I have always furnished myself with a good supply of grass before visiting these animals.
On one occasion I stopped as usual at Bessie’s cage, and noticed that she stared fixedly at the grass. So I said, jokingly:
“Why, Bessy, you cannot want grass. However, here it is if you want it.”
So I put my hand into the cage, and was much surprised by seeing her gently scrape the grass out of my hand with her huge paw. Then she lay down, gathered the grass between her paws, and licked up every particle of it.
When she had finished it, she looked appealingly in my face as if asking for another supply; so I brought a fresh handful, the whole of which she took in the same dainty way.