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Great Small Cat and Others

<h2 class="illo"> THURSDAY </h2> A girl, a hammock, a book and a day in June: a happy combination for memories, idleness and half-sadness, with no end of interesting possibilities that might come to one who loves and responds to the allurement. It was one of those hot early June days in a California valley when all nature seems held in quiet suspense. The wonderful and unusual stillness brooding over this little sunny spot in the world, at last arrested the girl's attention as she lazily swung in the hammock under a group of giant oaks, and she let her book fall to the ground in unconscious neglect. Suddenly her ear caught a feeble wail borne on the quiet air, a sound that held her breathless, with a little sobbing catch in her throat. It was too indistinct to have attracted attention save for nature's sympathetic hush, and scarcely seemed separated from the throbbing silence all about her; yet, responsive and expectant she held her breath to listen to the secret it might unfold. The faint cry was insistent and at last revealed itself to her unmistakably as the [28] tiny mew of a tiny kitten. When convinced of this she was roused to alertness in an instant for she had a special predilection for baby cats, the smaller the better. The pathetic little cry for help seemed to grow weaker and fainter as she blindly followed the sound, which finally led her to the loft of the stable. Even then, although she realized that she was "warm on the scent," she could not locate the exact spot this weak little mew came from. But presently she felt sure that it must come from the depths of a huge packing case, half-filled with books, which was stored in a far corner. The box being almost her own height, she could by no possibility lean over sufficiently for her eyes to pierce its dusky depths. Hastily getting a bench for a perch and a lighted candle to set at a knot hole half-way down the side of the box, she discovered its dark secret to be a small bit of coal black glossy fur, without much form or shape, lying flat as a pancake on one of the cold hard books; the tiniest mite of a live cat she had ever seen. As she lifted the little limp, cold bunch to her warm hand, it ceased to mew and, she thought, to breathe, but she carried it to the house and found it alive and able to take a little warm milk from a spoon. With repeated doses of this nourishment at regular intervals the baby began to revive and at bedtime was quite a normal kitten, except that its frame was so unusually small and meager. Thinking that the mother-cat would surely return at night to the place where she had left her [29] one wee infant, the girl returned this "special edition" to the books in the packing case, making it as warm and comfy as possible. In the morning her first waking thoughts flew to her tiny protégée and on going to the box she found the poor little thing just as she had left it the night before—no mother, and evidently abandoned. This time, on carrying it to the house she made it a permanent abiding place and continued to feed it with a spoon, as it seemed to grasp with readiness the idea of getting its food in this fashion and after a few lessons, took very kindly to it. The mystery of how this little orphan came to be in the case of books, alone and deserted, was never satisfactorily solved, although on inquiry the girl was told that a neighbor had found a black mother-cat dead in her laundry about the time of the discovery of the little kitten. It was thought that this must have been the mother of the little waif and that she had doubtless met with an untimely death. At any rate, no mother ever appeared to claim the baby, so she was adopted and given the name of Thursday, that being the day of her advent. She was so wee that until she was able to help herself to a grown-up cat's food, she was always fed from a spoon, and soon grew to look upon this useful article as the source of all motherly comfort, and to take milk from it as the chief object in living. In all her after life, the sight of a spoon seemed to give her a thrill and it was always very funny to watch her keenness in discovering [30] anyone at the table using this, her foster-mother, which she, very naturally, regarded as her own special property. This ridiculously small defender of her propriety rights would make her resentment of this trespass on her claim manifest in various cunning ways. Often she would watch with impatient, glaring eyes, from her vantage ground, the floor, each and every spoonful, as it passed from plate to mouth, hoping in time to stare this particular offender out of countenance. But if her jealous, concentrated round eyes failed to attract the desired attention, when longer forbearance became impossible, she would jump to the lap of the transgressor, thrusting her little pink nose into the hand that had so basely ignored her indignation, and intercept the spoon with a dainty paw and a comical air of haughty rebuke, as if saying: "Little Thursday's! Have you forgotten?" This impertinence, which the affront had been designedly coaxing forth, never failed to bring her a very substantial reward, and certainly no reproof. And so the baby was spoiled and encouraged in her wilful little ways which were considered the "cutest ever." There was never a time in all her life when she would not willingly leave affairs ordinarily attractive to cats, to come and sit serenely on some lap, with a bib about her neck, a sweet smile of peace on her face, to be fed with a spoon. She never reached the full stature of an ordinary cat, but grew into a wondrously beautiful little beastie and developed the most independent, self-contained, evasive personality [31] imaginable, for a cat. Looking no more than half-grown she was the very perfection of dainty symmetry, her coat a solid glossy black, almost blue in its depths. She was remarkably quick in her graceful motions, even for a cat, and had the dearest little round blue eyes, just scintillating with mischief and flaming with an inordinate love of fun which radiated to the tip of her inquisitive little nose and from there to the quivering end of her wicked, ecstatic tail. She also possessed such queer twists in a highly strung and very nervous temperament, that her erratic moods were variable and often startling surprises. But she was always singularly human and steadfast in one feminine quality and that was in liking to do just as she pleased. One of her "queer twists" was, at various intervals, to have sudden spasms of hilarious gaiety and to give vent to these frantic spells in play that were the times of her life. She never had any company in these grand romps, but was strangely independent and wildly happy, the imp of play which had possession, seeming to have endless sources of its own in the way of society and amusement. She would race "sideways" through the house, her "baby blue eyes" black as coal, turn double "upside downs," and play a kind of hide-and-seek all by herself, plainly just play for play's sake until her frolic, which sometimes rose to a frenzy, had exhausted her crazy mood. Among our precious lares and penates, was a magnificent Irish setter, a handsome fellow with a coat of wavy golden red hair and eyes of such [32] beseeching softness that he won all mankind. Until the advent of Thursday he had been sole proprietor and sovereign owner of the sunny back porch and playground, not to mention the hearts he ruled. But with the coming of the little black lady all his previous rights were changed, she, with nonchalant impudence, taking cool and unchallenged possession of all, including the king himself, who seemed one of her most willing subjects. She quickly learned and presumed on her power over him but with heroic patience this handsome fellow yielded glad obedience and was ever ready to bend before her small feminine coquetry, his gallantry seeming boundless. Like a knight of old, he was always rushing to her rescue and ever espousing her cause, using his strength generously at all times in her behalf. If she happened to cry within her privileged precincts of the house, screened from his entrance, if he was anywhere on the grounds within sound of her call, he would instantly come to her succor, peering through the screen with such an anxious, troubled expression in his dear goldy-brown eyes, his head turned first on one side and then on the other, a way setters have when trying to fathom mysteries. Having satisfied himself that she was in no serious trouble or in need of his gallant protectorship, he would lift his appealing brown eyes to us with an air of unutterable reproach for his unnecessary disturbance, and drop to the floor with a huge sigh, perhaps to try again for a few quiet winks. Life with him was no longer dull or lacking in color after Thursday became a member of our household, [33] but was full of rich and varied interests for every waking hour, which were many more than formerly, as it was only under the greatest difficulties that he could get even half of his accustomed hours of greedy sleep through the interrupted days. Of old, his choice of pleasant places of repose had been the shady back porch, where he would stretch himself at full length, his velvety ears lying broad and flat, and he still indulged himself in this chosen spot, although under difficulties. For Thursday had soon learned that to snuggle close to his curly coat meant warmth and comfort, but not for the dog, for it teased and worried his naps dreadfully to have her cuddle so close. However as he seemed loathe to surrender this adopted spot, his by "right of domain," he was most gentlemanly and patient, never even saying "bow." When sleepy time came the kitten would boldly hunt his resting place and nestle under the softness of his downy ear for her siesta. Feigning sleep, his nose between his paws and one eye half-open, the dog would bide the time when she was fast asleep and then, most cautiously and carefully, draw himself away in order to have his ear to himself. Little Lonesome, feeling the want of her comfortable covering, would sleepily creep under his ear again and the setter would again, with touching resignation, watch his chance and get away. This exchange of courtesies would go on until the dog evidently realized that he might as well give up and let the little wilful torment have her way. Or there might be times when he would get his [34] lazy self up and off, but even this man&oelig;uvre might be only temporary relief, if the kitten still longed for his companionship. Never once was the dog known to growl or fail in politeness, even when the kitten trespassed on his hospitality to the extent of selecting such dainty bits from his dinner plate as pleased her fancy. At such times he would stand by, big and stern, wistfully watching the choice pieces disappear, and patiently wait until she had finished her selection and was seated on her haunches near by, washing her little black face, before he would presume to take that which, in her gracious indulgence, she had left for him. In this elaborate ceremony of her toilet, she would sometimes pause, and with a kind of pensive wondering, gaze at her now greedy host. In this attitude, with one tiny paw raised meditatively, and her mouth half-open showing a bit of pink tongue between her gleaming teeth, she looked as if actually smiling in supreme affability on an attendant chamberlain. At all times, the attitude of affected condescension assumed by this mite of a kitten toward her big gentlemanly comrade, was so absurd as to be very funny. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-055.jpg" width-obs="345" height-obs="401" alt="" /> THURSDAY As She Never Attained the Full Stature of an Ordinary Cat, She Always Looked But Half Grown But Was the Very Perfection of Dainty Symmetry, Her Coat a Solid Black, Almost Blue in its Depths </div> And so the summer and fall months passed and the dog and kitten grew in friendship and intimacy and were an endless source of interest to the family. Unfortunately for these pets, the country home was soon to be broken up and closed for the winter. Thursday's devoted friend and protector, the setter, was sent to the hunting lodge, and a home was provided for the kitten with a friend who lived only a couple of miles away. [35] The girl cherished this little darling kitten which she had rescued, devotedly, and was very sad at the necessary parting, but never dreamed for a moment but that she would be the only one to experience any regret. She thought, of course, that the heart of her apparently frivolous little pet would readily accept the new conditions without a homesick thought, as it meant the same kindness, food and shelter to which she had been accustomed, and to leave her alone at the country house was out of the question, as it would be to risk letting her perish with cold and hunger. So the kitten was carried to the home of the friend and left, with a big heartache but, as the girl thought, only on her part. The next day through the telephone came the report that Lady Thursday did not take at all kindly to her change of residence, but expressed a decided dissatisfaction with the new order of things, scorning all food with a painfully injured air, staring straight ahead in black misery, ignoring everybody and all overtures in the way of coaxing, petting and comforting. Every means possible was tried to make her feel settled and as happy as a kitten ought to be in such a good home, but all in vain. Late in the afternoon this bonnie wee bit of homesickness appeared at our door, looking so pathetically small and weary, but still determined, that it made the tears come just to look at her. She was as quiet and demure as an injured saint but there was an anxious wistfulness in her big pleading eyes that went straight to one's heart. She evidently realized [36] that she had transgressed the law in eluding the vigilance of her keepers, and in running away, and her trembling little heart was thumping a wild tattoo. But her mental and physical rapture at being in her own home once more was glowing in triumphant satisfaction in every movement. And that she had been shrewd enough to find her way back all by herself in a road where there were no sign-posts a cat might read, but only scent for guide was also obviously a source of great self-congratulation to her. This demonstration of preference on the kitten's part for her home, and for her, was a surprise to the girl and touched her heart, for she had not thought her saucy, independent little favorite capable of such deep appreciation. It was so evident that this obstinate little pet objected to this change of abode that it was with the greatest reluctance that the girl felt forced to send her back again. There surely could be no mistaking the small queen's sentiments in the matter, for her manner was so haughty and reproachful. It might be a lovely joke her perfidious family were playing on her, but they had made a sad mistake, if they were serious, to think for one moment she would condone such treachery or that she would tolerate the other house as home, even for one day. She bestowed a royal "not-to-do-it-again" sort of threat on all, but in spite of her scathing remonstrance, she was told of the absolute need she had of another shelter, consoled and again carried to the distant home, rather than be allowed her stubborn way and left at the deserted country [37] place to take her chances against starvation and neglect. This time the little black visitor was shown special attention by the rather indignant friends of the girl, and more carefully guarded. If she showed a tendency to wander, she was made a prisoner in the hope that she would soon forget her former home and accept the inevitable, which from their point of view, was certainly very nice. Although the kitten was unnaturally patient and seemed to look upon their soothing efforts with a desire to be soothed, time showed that she remained, through all, unmoved in purpose, proving that in her apparently indifferent and trivial nature there were depths that had not been suspected. The great master passion of home-love and, for a small cat, a tremendous wilfulness were developing in her sturdy little body. She would not be reconciled to this new home but was slyly on the alert, constantly devising all sorts of shrewd ways in which she might cheat her keepers and gain her end. One day toward evening, their vigilance being somewhat relaxed, owing to her seeming submission, she managed to escape. She had been very crafty in her "seeming submission" as it had evidently been only a subterfuge, for she showed she had not been vanquished by any manner of means, or even discouraged by the delay. All the time she had seemed so sad and passive she must have been only biding her time and opportunity, scheming all the while desperately in [38] feminine ingenuity to outwit her jailors. When finally she was rewarded, and the instant she was free, she went scampering down the path, through the timberland, taking by instinct the "short cut" which was the nearest and straightest way to the one place on earth to her, each bounding step keeping time to the homesick beat of her heart. Oh, poor, plucky, obstinate morsel of a kitten! If there had only been some kindly hand to have turned you back; turned you back from that demon, hungry and savage, lying in wait for you in the narrow path through which you were sure to pass! Oh, that there had been some Spirit of Pity that cherishes the kittens, to have had a saving compassion on you! But on sped the flying feet, with eyes blind to all but the one big home-impulse that was giving her the courage of ten. All grief, disappointment and heartaches forgotten as the old friendly place grew nearer and nearer. Down through the valley and up the fatal hill, racing as fast as she could go on the ragged path, clearing brambles and ditches and fallen tree-trunks with flying leaps, turning neither to the right nor the left, going straight for home. Panting and throbbing she finally reached a tiny roadway among the briars and undergrowth, a narrow trail seldom used except by small fur and those in a hurry, like Thursday. Faster and faster she went exultingly on through this shadowy thicket to the next descent, and deeper and deeper into the depth and mystery of the woods, where loomed a silent murderer, set in rabbit land for the unwary, which [39] had marked this little pitiful victim to clutch in its fatal curve. Have courage, little Thursday, and turn back. Oh, in mercy turn back and save yourself from the horrible fate of this half-concealed shadow so near to you now! Or, halt an instant and go round this deadly trap. Home is so near, only a little way now. Home! Home! almost in sight, in answer to the burning desire in your heart. A sudden stop! The twinkling of a black shape twirling in the air, and the path is empty! The deadly grip of the cruel wire has borne Thursday home in a flash. A MINE, A MINER, AND A CAT [43] <div class="figcenter p6"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-067.jpg" width-obs="406" height-obs="161" alt="" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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