Part 9 (1/2)

The climax was reached when Miss Eleanor produced a box containing a lovely wing and ornaments, and placed them where the broken ones had been. She said:--

”I do not approve of such decorations. Were I young, I would never wear anything that had been killed to pander to a foolish vanity. These were given me to put with some flowers and gra.s.ses for exhibition. If you will accept them in place of those our naughty pet has destroyed, I shall feel we have atoned for his thoughtlessness.”

Accept! I guess she did, and in her heart thanked me for giving her such a treasure, though she gave me a cross look at parting, which I returned in full and longed to give her an etching.

I was disgusted. I had been outwitted, as people often are when they seek for revenge. It made me cynical, and I remained under the bed, thinking of the wrongs that are beyond redress, going on daily. I said to myself:--

”Just see! To gratify personal vanity how many millions of beautiful birds are slaughtered! Innocent creatures that G.o.d made, just like the lovely flowers, to make the world charming! And if a cat or any other animal kills a bird or chicken, their legitimate prey, knowing no better, they are called horrid creatures and hunted about just as if they were murderers.”

They did not say anything about my naughty act; but I heard them (after they had called me to come out, and I had not answered) say, ”Daisy is asleep.” Then they laughed, while Miss Milly said: ”Who could doubt that cats can understand, if they had seen Daisy's face when he was called a 'Tom cat.' I believe he sat on that hat to show his indignation.”

All our friends were not of this order. One young artist was very fond of me, and we were quite chummy. He was a great big fellow, with a thick head of hair, and a mouth like a shoe-brush. I loved to see his teeth gleam through when he laughed, for they were perfect and white as snow.

I did not like to have him rub his face over mine; it was like a porcupine, while my fur and whiskers are as soft as silk.

One day he had been fooling with me, and I gave him a good scratch. I raked his whiskers well, making his lip bleed. After that he called me his bar-ber-ous friend. Perhaps he thought I did not see the pun intended, but I did, and the point also.

I was rather sorry, and surprised. Somehow I thought his hair was like gra.s.s, and I could claw it as I pleased.

He brought me very nice catmint from his country home. Once he brought a pasteboard box with ”Daisy” printed on the cover. I was very proud of that box, and always turned it over with the name on the top. He brought us a beautiful pitcher called after the Emperor Hadrian. The style of pitcher was taken from those found in his tomb.

You will see I have a taste for history. There is no doubt, had I lived at that period, I should have made wonderful excavations. Mummied mice or rats would have had no mercy from my claws.

My special interest in this pitcher was the beautiful white daisies it was often filled with. The contrast with the blue pitcher was perfect.

He would bring in a bunch from his country home, and say, ”Here, Daisy, are your namesakes; they are for you,” while I would pretend to smell of them, delighted to make them all laugh. I would mount the table, and lie down by the side of the pitcher very contented.

My friend went to Virginia to sketch. He wrote word that he had planted a large grove of catmint for me, and had called it ”Daisy's Plantation.”

Was I not happy and important! As Miss Milly said, I was a real landowner.

After his return, he went to Germany to study. In all his letters he remembered me. I was just as much interested in his progress as his other friends were, and enjoyed the photographs of his pictures he sent home.

In my opinion he was a great artist--better than the ”old masters” they talk so much about. The ”young masters” are good enough for me. He wanted to paint my picture, but Miss Milly refused, just as she had all other offers of this kind.

I did not like it, for I thought my friend would do me justice, and it might make his fortune, if exhibited. I used to look in the gla.s.s and pose, thinking what a lovely picture I would make.

I say it, and I suppose you will say, ”What a vain cat!” But how about these society women (and men, as to that) who dress in velvets and jewels, and exhibit their charms, and so much of them that it makes a modest cat blush? What if they don't say, as I do, that they would make a lovely picture, do they not act it? You will soon discover, if you never knew it before, as you read my history of many cats, that animals are often superior to the human race.

My mistresses would often dress me and make me pose to please them, and for the life of me I could not see why I should not be painted for the benefit of others. They would tie a half-handkerchief on my head, the point trimmed with lace just between my ears, the ends tied under my chin. They called it a ”Marie Stuart point.” Whatever that might be, I knew not. I afterward learned that she was a queen, and was executed. It pleased my cat vanity to represent a queen.

I myself performed all the tricks I could think of. One day, being in a large armchair, I just posed, myself. I sat down, hung my two paws over the arm of the chair, my head on one side, my ”Marie Stuart point” all right, the bow tied under my chin, my collar and padlock in sight, and then and there I made an impression never to be forgotten by those who saw me. As long as memory lasts they will remember me in all my beauty.

My mistress fell on her knees beside me, calling me all the pet names she could think of, while Miss Eleanor said, ”If ever a cat lived that could equal Daisy, that cat I would like to see!”

I remained a long time in the same att.i.tude, proud of my success. When Miss Milly brought a little hand-gla.s.s for me to see myself, I did not wonder they were delighted, and I wished they would let me pose for the benefit of poor cats. I knew I could draw a crowd.

I never would pose for those I did not care for. I tore off the handkerchief as soon as they put it on, and taking it by the lace edge, I shut my teeth on it and dragged it under the bed. After this they only asked me to pose for my friends. For them I was very willing to do my best. I enjoyed being called a ”darling” and a ”love” by pretty girls, just as any boy would enjoy it.

One friend of my mistress, a charming little woman and a real philanthropist, was quite fond of me. She was the mother of my dear girl friend, whom I introduced to you at my party. This good little woman was a real friend to animals of all kinds, but she particularly loved cats.

She told us one day when she came to see us about the cruel people in her neighborhood who went away in summer, leaving their cats to starve.