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Nomad of the Nine Lives

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<h2> CHAPTER I </h2> The first thing I remember is that all was dark, but that I could feel a mother's loving caress and knew that there were other helpless things in the same box with me. After several days, something large and strong lifted us, box and all, and carried us up into a much more pleasant place; I can still remember how good it smelled. Upon opening my eyes the next day, I beheld the face of my mother and found that we were seven, and were comfortably settled at the rear of a provision store. Mother did not feel at all safe; that I could see by the uneasy manner in which she looked about her, and started and trembled as people came to look at us. Once, if I remember correctly, she tried to bite a small boy who would persist in picking me up by the tail. Her claws showed also and she took good care of us in many like emergencies. She continued to be uneasy, and one day when Mr. Carver, the butcher, had stepped out on business, she took us one by one in her mouth, lifting us carefully by the nape of the neck, and carried us back into the cellar again. It was dark and cold and we did not like it very well, but mother cuddled us up in her warm embrace and tried to make us feel that it was best for us to be away from people. When Mr. Carver came back and saw the empty box he came down into the cellar and scolded poor mother, saying, "Now, old lady, I want you and the kittens to stay upstairs, for I am going to give them away; besides, I want you to kill the mice which are getting into everything up there. You may keep one of your children, however, for we need two cats here." Mother looked worried, but followed as he carried us up again. We remained there after that and grew larger and more attractive, so that one by one my brothers and sisters were given away, with the exception of Tom's father (who stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land, to a good old age). Our childhood was bright and happy, for mother taught us many things and brought us up well. I remember that there was a door leading from the rear of the store into a garden. Sunny days mother would take us out and give us lessons in natural history. She taught us not to kill or maim song-birds, but said that we could kill and eat field mice or little blind moles, although we never saw any of them. She warned us that bees and wasps were too heating to the blood, and not to eat them, but if very hungry, a grass-hopper was not to be sneezed at; positively no toads, however. How we played in the garden, chasing the elusive sunbeams, rolling over and over, and learning to box and jump! It all came to an end too soon, however, for one day a very neat little girl came in and said that her father, who was janitor in a grammar school, wanted a kitten, because the mice were getting the best of him. She picked me up and I knew at once that I should like her, as she was so gentle (some children are very rough and squeeze one so hard). Mr. Carver parted with me unwillingly, for, as he expressed it, "I was the smartest one in the bunch." I said good-by to mother with tears in my eyes, for she had been very good to me. Once she had even defied a dog who came into the store and ventured too near our box. I still remember how handsome she appeared with her eyes blazing, her arched back, and her open mouth, hissing and spitting at him. Her sharp claws could be seen outside of her velvet paws, while we, terribly frightened, crouched low and kept quiet. The dog ran away as fast as he could, and never returned to trouble us. She had taught us how to catch and kill rats and mice in the stillness of the night, and had given us many an object lesson. Thus, when we left her we had a knowledge of these things and had also been warned not to steal, which, living as we did, in a meat market, had been a very hard task. She had likewise taught us to be careful of our appearance, and especially to keep clean. This latter she showed us by wetting her paw with her tongue and washing her face with it, and, moreover, had told us we need not go over our heads and back of our ears unless it looked like rain (so considerate of her, for cats, as well as boys, hate to have their ears washed). Of course she taught us to hate water and always to step over a puddle; to keep good company or none; and above all things not to stay out late at night, or walk on back fences. She did not approve of voice culture, either, but later I shall relate my sad experiences in that direction. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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