Such a pet is a hedgehog, a sort of walking pincushion or animated burr, which is easily tamed, easily cared for, and in return simply for a place to sleep and something to drink will rid the house of rats, mice, cockroaches, beetles, spiders, or, in fact, anything of that kind to which housekeepers particularly object.
The writer once caught a hedgehog in a box trap, he having ventured there probably in search of a spider, and in two weeks he was so tame as to run around the kitchen in a very much more harmless way than a cat, making himself generally useful and contented by sleeping all day and working all night. He was the most industrious mouser one could ask for, and in addition to these duties, he cleared the house entirely of roaches, not one showing his head there until after a very fat cook ended his useful life by stepping on him. When the dog attempted to be too familiar with him he rolled himself into a prickly ball, lying perfectly quiet and safe, until the dog had fully convinced himself that he had no very urgent business with such a globe of spines, and then Master Prickle would begin to unroll himself; first the snout would appear, then the head, then the feet, and the old fellow would trot off toward the pantry, grunting in the most contented fashion. Prickle was quite fond of being petted, and with his spines lying down like hair, would make a queer little sound indicative of pleasure at being caressed.
A hedgehog is really no hog at all, but simply resembles one in having a snout with which to dig in the ground, for when cold weather comes he digs a hole and buries himself in it, where he awaits the approach of spring. The spines with which he is armed are rather uncomfortable if one chances to get them in his flesh, and will cause a sore, as would any foreign substance, if not removed; but if they are immediately removed there is no more to be feared from them than from the prick of a pin.
During the autumn, or until the first frost comes, is the best time to catch hedgehogs, and a common large box trap, baited with a piece of fresh meat, is all that is needed. Select such a place in the woods as these prickly pets have taken up their temporary abode in, and then cover the trap as nearly as possible with leaves or underbrush. The hedgehog will scent the bait, and then proceed to dig for it, very likely overturning the trap unless it is weighted down.
It is possible to secure them after they have retired to their winter-quarters by digging them out of their holes, but by such a course it is almost impossible to secure the animal without injuring him in some way, thus perhaps depriving him of his usefulness.
Having once secured your needle-pointed prize, make a cage for him of a reasonably large box, inside of which is a smaller one filled with hay or straw, where he can hide until his first fright is over. Feed him with meat, eggs, bread, or, in fact, as you would a cat, and give him plenty of milk to drink. Serve him his meals about sunset or very early in the morning, and do not attempt to force him to show himself for a week or ten days.
At the end of that time leave his cage open in the kitchen, or any other place most infested with roaches and mice, and after that first night's work his education in the way of becoming a pet is completed. In the morning he will probably be found curled up in one corner of the darkest closet, sound asleep, looking as if he had been having a very hearty dinner.
Do not disturb him then, but leave him to his own devices a few days longer, and he will make no attempt to leave the place where he can get his food so easily. In two or three weeks he will have become so tame that he will no longer raise his quills when any one tries to pet him, but will allow himself to be fondled like a cat or dog.
When it becomes necessary to feed him—and he will so clear the house of vermin that in a few weeks his own larder will have become exhausted—he should be given animal food, as well as milk and water, for without such food he will die.