STORIES OF CATS.

So much praise has been lavished on dogs and horses, as exceptionally favoured friends, that scant measure of justice is meted to equally deserving if less popular animals. Notably is this the case towards one animal which Shakspeare, with all his marvellous knowledge of creation, has denominated the ‘harmless, necessary cat.’ Persons most familiar with the feline race will indeed plead their cause enthusiastically; but such honourable exceptions are few and far between. Those who consider no luxury too costly for the indulgence of a dog, think it no sin to tacitly countenance—if not worse—any amount of harsh treatment or indifference that may under the same roof be accorded to a cat. The origin of so unfair and ignorant a prejudice is somewhat difficult to trace; for, in point of fact, one is no more faultless than the other, although their failings are very differently judged and condoned. At the generality of houses, cats are merely tolerated—as a choice between two evils—lest rats and mice should abound; and supposed to fare sumptuously on such prey, even where, through ill-requited service, none are to be found. When theft or destruction of fragile articles is discovered, blame is usually awarded in one convenient quarter only; whereas the accused thereby is too often made a scapegoat for the shortcomings of others. An animal may be driven by sheer hunger to purloin food, because, through inhumanity, none has been given. A clear case of justifiable larceny! Dumb plaintiffs, unable to employ counsel, can tell no tales. Could they contradict plausible but false evidence, how many high and hitherto unimpeachable reputations for honesty and veracity would perish!

Cats, in the abstract, might well exclaim with Shylock, ‘Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.’ They nevertheless have numerous estimable qualities, from which little credit is derived. They are devoted mothers as a rule, guarding their young at the risk of life itself; facing opponents on their behalf from which, by nature, they would fly in abject terror; playing juvenile games, even at an advanced age, to amuse their kittens; keeping them sleek and glossy as satin, while patiently teaching those accomplishments that they will need when left to their unaided resources in after-life. A pattern for the imitation of too many parents. Notwithstanding such creditable traits of character, kittens are mercilessly destroyed; though some of all other progeny are spared, out of consideration for maternal affection and well-being. A cat is vulgarly said to have ‘nine lives;’ but, in sober truth, the single existence it can lay claim to is seldom open to envy. Without entering here upon details of many cruelties almost too barbarous for belief, it cannot be ignored that boys, and even men, not otherwise supposed to be utterly devoid of common humanity, think nothing of allowing this most unoffending animal to be deliberately tortured to death by dogs, or similarly revolting practices. They appear to be under a delusion that there is something manly in expressing detestation of cats, while professing fondness for animals in general, and choosing for pets very uninviting specimens. Sundry so-called ‘sports’—save the mark!—are now happily illegal; offenders in brutality towards cats are rarely convicted; and—under the present imperfect state of the law for the protection of dumb animals—can then be only very inadequately punished.

Cats are tolerably popular in stables, where they are able to render good return for their lodging at little cost for board. They become greatly attached to horses, their favourite sleeping-place being frequently on a horse’s back; a strange selection, which yet appears to be mutually agreeable. It has been widely said that cats are incapable of any great degree of affection, and that the small amount evinced is for their home, and not its inmates. They are, in addition, considered unable to learn tricks and actions which make dogs such amusing companions. It is also thought to be much more difficult to cure the former of faults and natural aversions. Too great reliance may, however, be placed on these assertions. A bad name is easily acquired where champions are few and little intimacy is allowed. ‘Leading the life of a cat and dog,’ for instance, is popularly supposed to represent the reverse of harmony; yet some cats and dogs—which have not been made enemies—become devoted friends, affording an illustration of peaceful unanimity that many of their biped detractors might profitably imitate. Again, cats, though they have a decided instinct for killing birds, have been taught to abstain from molesting those in cages. Two cases came under the writer’s notice where cats were left constantly in places filled with birds, yet never injured any, having been early impressed by the idea that there are birds and birds, some species requiring even protection from harm. The home of one conscientious creature was at a bird-fancier’s shop, and no breach of faith resulted from the watchman’s being left nightly on guard. The experiment might be hazardous to quote, but other examples could be mentioned. A few well-authenticated anecdotes may clear away some mistaken notions, and tend to the saving of helpless animals from cruelty and neglect.

A military chaplain, when living with his family at Madras, had a favourite cat. Having to change his residence, he removed to another side of the city, a distance of several miles. The in-coming tenant’s wife took a great fancy to the cat, and begged that it might be transferred with the house. Through fear that it would be lost in going so far from familiar haunts, added to the knowledge that a good home would be given, and, more especially, because poor Puss was then in delicate health, she was, after much hesitation, allowed to remain. About three weeks afterwards, the chaplain’s wife sitting in the drawing-room of her new home, was amazed to see their old friend enter the veranda, spring into her lap, overwhelming her with caresses, and showing every possible demonstration of delight at their reunion. It was assumed that she had, in an unaccountable manner, come to take up her quarters where an unequivocal welcome was received. Towards evening, the visitor disappeared, as mysteriously as she had arrived, returning the following day, but this time not alone, for in her mouth was a very small kitten, which she gently laid at the feet of her mistress with a pleading and most eloquent expression, as though craving for sanctuary. It need hardly be said that both refugees were incorporated into the household. Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that one kitten only had been spared out of a family born at the former residence. With this ‘sole daughter of her house and heart,’ the faithful creature had travelled to those she had ‘loved and lost a while.’ How such a journey could have been thrice accomplished, through the intricate and wholly unknown streets of so large and populous a city as Madras, bringing on the last occasion so young a kitten safely with her, surmounting all the difficulties and dangers of such a formidable transit, is inexplicable, and must certainly be deemed a marvellous feat. No member of the chaplain’s family had visited their old home, not even a servant had passed between the two localities, nor had the new tenants called on the original inhabitants. The extraordinary reflection and foresight shown in first taking the journey alone to insure success, and then fetching the fragile little being prudently left behind, is perhaps the most curious part of this ‘owre true tale.’ It will be conceded readily that this strong attachment could only have been for those with whom she had so long and happily dwelt. Truth is again stranger than fiction.

A lady living near Eton College—close to that memorable spot, dear to the heart of Eton boys, ‘Chalvey Ditch’—possessed, amongst her children’s many pets, a beautifully marked tortoiseshell cat, whose ‘lot had fallen in a fair ground,’ amidst ‘the smooth stones of the stream.’ When the lady’s sons left college, she removed to London—where the cat would not only have led an unhappy life, after roaming about of her own free will, but would probably have been lost—she was, to the sincere regret of her young companions, presented to some friends living at a considerable distance in Windsor Forest, where a luxurious home was offered. A family from elsewhere took the remainder of the lady’s lease off her hands, through which arrangement the following story came to light. When writing on business, the question was asked if the lady while living near Eton had amongst her pets a beautifully marked tortoiseshell cat; which being answered in the affirmative, a striking proof of intelligence was narrated. Not long after possession was taken, such a cat—identified by minute description—arrived during the night, and was found next morning, with a newly born family of kittens, in an outhouse—her chosen lodging on previous interesting occasions—having found her way from far in the Forest, whither she had been taken after dark, through or round Eton and Windsor, and thence to her once happy home. It may be a disputed point in this instance whether such fidelity to old associations might be attributed to love for the house or its former owners. Nevertheless, from the warm affection shown by the cat towards the latter, no doubt was felt on the subject by those best able to decide. They were gone beyond her reach, but she had done her utmost, in loving memory of them.

Some boys were observed in a Welsh village carrying a very small snow-white kitten, with ‘eyes of most celestial blue,’ and being asked its destination, stated that they were about to consign the pretty little creature to an early and a watery grave; from which cruel fate it was promptly rescued by right of purchase. The kitten being too young to quit its bereaved parent, was temporarily returned to her charge, she having in the interim been placed on board-wages. This presumably equitable plan, from some hidden reason, did not answer, and the juvenile pensioner seemed far from thriving. Taffy’s peculiar notions as to meum and tuum may have had something to do with the failure. Prematurely removed to its proprietor’s care, the junior member was patiently reared by hand. This Samaritan-like deed brought fairly earned reward, for the foundling grew into a very handsome cat, and became a highly prized favourite. So great was the love of ‘Jenny Lind’ for those who had saved her from death, subsequently, under domestic difficulties, bringing her to full years of discretion, that although accompanying them in several long journeys, and living in many temporary homes, she never once offered to leave them. Petted and coveted by newer friends, she remained loyal in her allegiance to the end of her days. Another proof of attachment to persons, not places.

A cat belonging to a gentleman resident about eight miles from London, was given to a brewer living at a distant part of the metropolis; taken there after dark in a closed basket placed in a covered wagon. A fortnight had elapsed, when the poor animal, weary and footsore, walked into her former master’s kitchen, and lay down in its accustomed corner by the fire, purring with joy at having reached the old home. Such fidelity was deservedly rewarded.

A lady visiting a bird-fancier’s shop, was struck by the beauty and size of an Angora cat exhibited for sale, imprisoned in a large parrot’s cage. The captive effectually pleading for pity by licking her hand, was purchased and taken home. After some years, the cat was removed with his mistress to Brighton, though under protest as to future reformation. Tom was then probably one of the largest of his species, and universally admired. He had adopted an apparently incurable habit of sharpening his claws on a highly polished dining-room table; and also committed sad havoc amongst the flowers in the garden of his new abode, spending a great portion of leisure time luxuriously lying in the sunshine, amidst mignonette, &c. A decree of banishment was at length unwillingly issued, and poor innocently erring Tom forthwith departed to a country rectory, where he was much valued. Every kindness that could conduce to his comfort was shown, all his special tastes as to diet consulted; but the exile remained inconsolable. He never attempted to return, not seeming to have sufficient energy left to attempt aught in self-defence; he simply gave himself up to despair. It was vainly hoped that time would reconcile the mourner to his changed lot, but matters only grew worse, the cat pining and fretting till he became the shadow of his former self. He could not twine ‘fantastick garlands,’ or utter an altogether ‘melodious lay,’ like ‘the fair Ophelia,’ but wandered aimlessly about the garden, eating little except green fruit and such strange fare; dying, after a brief period, literally of a broken heart. The chief object of this devoted love was the cook he had left behind him. The attachment, unlike that of Shakspeare’s ill-starred heroine, may not have been a romantic one; still, it was purely disinterested, unwavering amidst all mere worldly temptations.

Poor faithful Tom gave the sole offering he had to give—his life. If it be true that ‘Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart,’ it was in the above case proved to be a cat’s ‘whole existence.’

As an illustration of maternal devotion, the ensuing fact was contributed by a relative. A little girl had set her heart on capturing a wild kitten, which resolutely refused to enter human habitations, neither would it allow any one to go near it, having thus from its birth led a truly Bohemian life. An old gardener told the child, in forcible language, that she might as well try to catch Lucifer himself. Children are not easily daunted in such kindred pursuits, acting confidently on the understanding that everything comes to those who wait. By very slow degrees the waif was first cautiously approached, next timidly caressed, then borne triumphantly home, and finally installed there as a favoured guest. From having been literally in a savage state, it soon became remarkably gentle and domesticated, by the same principle that no rabbit grows so thoroughly tame as the wild species. She was also, during after-years, extremely fond of her young, several of which were reared without disaster; but upon one occasion the cat came to her mistress in a sadly distressed state of mind, eagerly trying to induce her to follow it. Compliance being for the moment put off, the suppliant left in dire grief; presently coming back carrying a dead kitten, which was laid before her friend with bitter lamentations. This being taken away, she brought, one by one, every member of a luckless family, none of which had seen the light. They were then buried, the mother remaining a picture of sorrow. It was hoped the curtain had fallen over the final scene of a domestic tragedy; but the interment could not have been properly carried out, for she dug them up, and again brought each successively into the house, after which they were more effectually disposed of. A long time elapsed before the poor creature could be consoled for their loss.