Part 16 (1/2)

I used to play and chase my tail as if I did not know what it was, to divert his attention, for I did pity him. He was pleased, but it made him forget the long, tiresome answers. So I gave up trying to amuse him, for I did not want him to be punished. And when, after all my sympathy, he pulled and pinched my tail, I said, ”He is a chip from the old block,” and left him to his deceitful step-mother.

I felt very glad that, with all their sorrows and wrongs, cats never have step-fathers or mothers. It is better never to have known your own father than to have one who is always bringing you a new mother. And I guess, after all, there is just as much morality among cats as there is among human beings.

Sometimes there were days when I could not contain myself. I wanted to run and fight, and send forth my voice just as other cats were allowed to. The Bohemian blood my poor mother suffered from was answerable for this state of feeling.

At this time we lived in a flat on the fifth story of a very high building. It was a very small place, but we were pa.s.sing through sad reverses just then, though I could not understand, else I would never have added to their trials.

Miss Milly would go away every day, and when she returned at night, looked so white and tired, it made me very anxious. Though she petted me, and called me her greatest comfort, she did not play with me, and her brightness was gone.

After she had gone in the morning, Miss Eleanor and I would go about and attend to our little work, and then, when she would sit down to mend the boys' clothes, she would take me in her lap and talk to me about their troubles.

The boys had both found places, and were working very hard and away all day.

We were lonesome. The kitchen had a large window, and outside there was a long wooden box made on it, and here the janitor brought fresh earth every few days, for it was my garden park and hunting ground. It was my only outing, for I never went down over the stairs. When I went out there, I was so near the sky that the earth seemed very far away. I did long for a run over the green gra.s.s.

Miss Eleanor, when it was pleasant, would take me up through a boxed-up stairway to the top of the house, where I could run a long time. It was very large, for the building covered a great s.p.a.ce, and was gravelled over like the street. A very high wall surrounded it, so there was no chance to run away.

One night I could not sleep. I was possessed to go out. The window of our bedroom was open, and I got out into the gutter and walked along. It ran around the building and was very narrow, and I half drew back. Then I said, ”Courage!” and went on till I reached the corner where the pointed tower cut me off. Then I realized my situation. I could not turn around in this narrow s.p.a.ce, and I closed my eyes in horror. I dared not look below, the distance was so great. Above, the beautiful stars seemed to look down on me and my wickedness.

How sorry I was! No one could see me, a little gray speck, way up so high. I remained there till the morning light gave me a little courage.

I tried to think of good things, and I remembered about the little sparrows that G.o.d cared for, and I trusted he would not let me ”fall to the ground” for my dear mistress's sake.

She had suffered so much I did not want her to have the pain of losing me. So I just shut my eyes and turned very slowly and painfully, with many slips and strains; but my face at last was turned homeward. Then I cowered down with real vertigo. I could not take one step; but soon I braced up and crawled along till I reached the bedroom window, where I was safe.

The delight of my friends may be imagined. They had hunted everywhere for me, and Miss Milly had had almost a nervous fit, for she said: ”He has fallen down and has been dashed to pieces by this time.” They did not go to bed, and were waiting for the morning light to search the building.

Of course I was very much ashamed, though it proved how much they loved me. I promised myself I would never try them again; and I was frightened when I realized what a narrow escape I had had.

Then I enjoyed my good breakfast, washed myself thoroughly, and getting into my nice basket, slept all day.

But there are moments now when the horror of my situation overpowers me, and I always hear with pity about the men who mount the high buildings and church steeples. And I never, though I am a patriotic cat, desire to go to the top of Bunker Hill Monument. The picture of it satisfies me.

It makes my head spin, and I have vertigo of the mind; just to think of it makes me lose my head. For a cat to lose his head is a serious matter. We might spare a piece of tail, but we need every bit of the head.

That reminds me of a cat of Miss Eleanor that really lost half of its tail. Her name was ”Persimmon.”

The family all laughed at Miss Eleanor for her romantic idea, and very soon the name degenerated into ”Sim”--a much more appropriate one for the wild and homely creature who answered to it. She was one of Miss Eleanor's many pensioners. Somehow the mean-looking and abused always were those she selected for pets.

After they had in vain tried to find a home for Sim, she at last settled down as one of the family, to the disgust of their old and well-bred cat.

Sim had no manners, and was not in the least degree sensitive. She was a dirty white, with pale greenish eyes; and a dark shadow under them gave her a weird aspect. Miss Milly said the dark shadow was ”ashes,” but Miss Eleanor said it was the ”shadow of deep thought.” More people, however, believed in the ashes than in the thought.

She would crowd herself in where there was no room for her; and after the loss of her tail, she was more determined to a.s.sert her position than before.

It happened in this wise: Sim had a very high temper, and in a quarrel with a bigger cat than herself she was vanquished. In trying to run away she climbed the fence. The cat following could only reach her tail. It was a long one, and she struck her claws into it with such force that she nearly tore it off. Sim went about, for a few days, a sorry object, till it fell off. The remains of it only measured about two inches.

She exhibited herself on the front doorstep whenever any one called, in an unblus.h.i.+ng manner. A friend of my mistresses, a professor of music, asked what kind of animal she was, saying he had never met just her like.

At last she made herself so disagreeable that the mother said they must dispose of her. They felt badly, but their mother's decision they never questioned.