Part 13 (1/2)

While I am moralizing I might as well give my readers the benefit of it.

Why are not cats used as barometers? It would certainly save much money, and Blue Hill Observatory would be a good outlook for the weather-wise cat, and she would make an able a.s.sistant without a salary. Just observe her movements as the earlier generations did, and there is no doubt the weather notes will be correct.

As early as 1643 an old book was published which says of the cat: ”She useth to wash her face with her feet, which she licketh, and moisteneth with her tongue. And it is observed by some, that if she put her feet beyond the crown of her head, in this kind of was.h.i.+ng, it is a sign of rain.” If a cat scratches the furniture or frisks around more than usual, she is said to be ”raising the wind.”

Cats are sensitive to air, full of motion and electricity, which seems to put them in good spirits; while a warm lifeless atmosphere makes them languid.

Sailors are as a cla.s.s very superst.i.tious in regard to cats. Their family, when the father, son, or brother has gone on a voyage, watch the family cat to know about the absent one. If a cat sickens or disappears, it is looked upon as an indication of the illness or death of the absent one. A sailor's family will make a pet and companion of the family cat.

The cat that chances to go to sea is just wors.h.i.+pped by all on board the s.h.i.+p and is the real captain.

There is another little story that comes to my mind just now, as ill.u.s.trating how much a cat notices and remembers. The cat in question was called Ole. Why, or wherefore, I cannot say. Perhaps he was a Norwegian, from the name, or his ancestors may have been Norwegians. He lived in Syracuse, New York, perhaps he was named for that most perfect musician and gentleman, Ole Bull, as people have a craze for naming their children for celebrated people, and they often name their pets for them. There is no doubt that animals do greater credit to their names than pampered children.

The cat called Ole was a great favorite in the family where he belonged.

He had his place at the table and was very fond of his master, following his every movement when carving, with great interest. Even though he craved what was being carved, he never made a movement to hasten his dinner. Subsequent events proved he had not watched in vain.

One day the daughter of the family was attracted to the dining room by the loud and peremptory calls of Ole. She opened the door, and there sat Ole in his master's place at the head of the table. The large mat for the meat platter to rest on he had drawn in front of him, and on it lay a large rat.

The satisfaction with which he greeted her was evident, and he purred forth his delight at having provided and served up a game dinner. It proved that he had thought about the etiquette of the table. Having no platter, he had taken the next best thing, the mat, where the platter usually rested.

It is needless to say Ole was more petted then ever, though people, when told the story, would say, ”How wonderful!” but behind their backs would say they guessed it was a fish instead of a rat that Ole had caught. But I believe in the rat. A cat detects and despises shams.

A friend of my mistress said that in a country house where she was visiting they had an open fireplace in one of the rooms, and one of those very absurd gas-logs.

The family cat walked in one day, and, going over to the rug, prepared to have a delightful snooze. But she no sooner approached the fireplace than the idea of the sham fire arrested her. She gave one resentful look at her mistress and walked out of the room. She never went into that room again, preferring the reality of the kitchen fire to an elegant sham. There is very little danger that a cat will ever be deceived after she has had the chance to investigate.

If the ravens and birds were half as bright as p.u.s.s.y, the best gotten-up scarecrow in the field would never cause them one moment of disquiet or the loss of one good meal. She has such quick ears that even the moving of a leaf in the wind or the creak of a window is enough to bring her to her feet ready for an encounter.

XVI

CAT PRANKS

What pleasant memories I have of my early years! How could I be other than a very happy cat, with a home so pleasant, and dear, kind friends?

With the boys to play with, and everything to interest me, I have nothing but loving words to say on my own account, and I feel more anxious to try to help the cats who are not appreciated to homes and friends like mine.

With all my advantages, I must admit I was at times a great trial to those who loved me. If a boy had behaved as I did, it would have been called the ”old Adam” in him. And with me I suppose it was the cat old Adam. I was full of life and fun, and a great hunter of everything that moved, from a leaf that rustled in the breeze to our natural enemy, a mouse.

I was very smart at the business of hunting, and the rats and mice that I destroyed I cannot tell. I wish I had kept an account, but when young I did not know the value of a journal and account book. It would be a real pleasure to me now, when memory is often treacherous.

I was never allowed to worry or torment them, though I had the desire, as every one has, to torment or worry something. Miss Eleanor would put her hand around my throat gently, but it would force open my mouth, making me drop my victim. Then it was at once killed.

One day I chased one under the bed. I knew it had received its death-blow, and I wanted to go in and worry it occasionally. My mistress did not know of it; she was not in the room at the time.

It was just about tea time, and I expected a scene when it should crawl out, as I feared it would. It was behind a box, and I could not move it or get at it with my paws; but I scratched on it with my claws to a.s.sure it of my presence and make it tremble. In this way I kept it all the evening, and I did dread their going to bed. I was so sleepy, it made me cross. They went to bed, and I fell asleep with a guilty conscience, for I knew it would be a dreadful fright to them if the mouse should appear.

It must have been the middle of the night when a loud scream awoke me, and they both rushed out of the bedroom, saying, ”It is a mouse! It walked over the bed!” Before they lighted the gas I had pounced upon my prey and finished it.

Miss Eleanor took a cloth and pulled the mouse out of my mouth and threw it out of the window. I was real mad with them both, and got up on the table, where I never was allowed to sit, and knocked down a beautiful little basket that Miss Milly kept flosses in. The three parts of the basket separated, and all the little bags and b.a.l.l.s rolled about on the floor. I poked them under chairs and in corners, and at last my mistresses were obliged to go to bed, leaving me with my playthings. The moonlight favored me, and I not only chased the bags and b.a.l.l.s, but I tried to chase the moonbeams. I caught the playthings, but never the moonbeams, and I wondered why.