Letters From a Cat: Published by Her Mistress for the Benefit of All Cats and the Amusement of Little Children

Letters From a Cat: Published by Her Mistress for the Benefit of All Cats and the Amusement of Little Children by Ledyard Addie, Helen Hunt 1830-1885 Jackson Page A

Book: Letters From a Cat: Published by Her Mistress for the Benefit of All Cats and the Amusement of Little Children by Ledyard Addie, Helen Hunt 1830-1885 Jackson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ledyard Addie, Helen Hunt 1830-1885 Jackson
Tags: Pets, cats, Euthanasia of animals
When I opened the door, she would give a funny little mew, something like the mew cats make when they call their kittens. Then as soon as I stepped on the first stair to

    come up to her, she would race away at the top of her speed, and hide under a bed; and when I reached the room, there would be no Pussy to be seen. If I called her, she would come out from under the bed; but if I left the room, and went down stairs without speaking, in less than a min ute she would fly back to her post at the head of the stairs, and call again with the peculiar mew. As soon as I appeared, off she would run, and hide under the bed as before. Sometimes she would do this three or four times; and it was a favorite amusement of my mother's to exhibit this trick of hers to strangers. It was odd, though ; sl\e never would do it twice, when

    she observed that other people were watch ing. When I called her, and she came out from under the bed, if there were strangers looking on, she would walk straight to me in the demurest manner, as if it were a pure* accident that she happened to be under that bed ; and no matter what I did or said, her frolic was over for that day. She used to follow me, just like a little dog, wherever I went. She followed me
    to school every day, and we had great diffi-
    *
    culty on Sundays to keep her from follow ing us to church. Once she followed me, when it made a good many people laugh, in spite of themselves, on an occasion when it was very improper for them to

    laugh, and they were all feeling very sad. It was at the funeral of one of the profes sors in the college.
    The professors' families all sat together ; and when the time came for them to walk out of the house and get into the carriages to go to the graveyard, they were called, one after the other, by name. When it came to our turn, my father and mother went first, arm-in-arm ; then my sister and I ; and then, who should rise, very gravely, but my Pussy, who had slipped into the room after me, and had not been noticed in the crowd. With a slow and deliberate gait she walked along, directly behind my sister and me, as if she were the remaining

    member of the family, as indeed she was. People began to smile, and as we passed through the front door, and went down the steps, some of the men and boys standing there laughed out. I do not wonder; for it must have been a very comical sight. In a second more, somebody sprang for ward and snatched Pussy up. Such a scream as she gave! and scratched his face with her claws, so that he was glad to put her down. As soon as I heard her voice, I turned round, and called her in a low tone. She ran quickly to me, and I picked her up and carried her in my arms the rest of the way. But I saw even my own papa and mamma laughing a little, for just a

    minute. That was the only funeral Pussy ever attended.
    Pussy lived several years after the events which are related in these letters.
    It was a long time before her fur grew out again after that terrible fall into the soft-soap barrel. However, it did grow out at last, and looked as well as ever. Nobody would have known that any thing had been the matter with her, except that her eyes were always weak. The edges of them never got quite well; and poor Pussy used to sit and wash them by the hour; ^sometimes mewing and looking up in my face, with each stroke of her paw on her

    eyes, as much as to say, " Don't you see how sore my eyes are? Why don't you do something for me ? "
    She was never good for any thing as a mouser after that accident, nor for very much to play with. I recollect hearing my mother say one day to somebody,— " Pussy was spoiled by her experience in the cradle. She would like to be rocked the rest of her days, I do believe ; and it is too funny to see her turn up her nose at tough beef. It was a pity she ever got a taste of tenderloin!"
    At last, what with good feeding and very little exercise, she grew so fat that she was clumsy, and so lazy that she did

    not want

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