HAPPY CAT.
Reading edition
In eighteen hundred and eighteen, In pleasant time of Spring, The pretty kitten first was seen, Whose history I sing. And first her pedigree to tell,— She came, I understand, Of parents as respectable As any in the land. Tib she was always called, for why? It was her mother’s name, And lively was the kitten’s eye, And active was her frame. The soft, warm coat that covered her, Was goodly to the sight, For spots of grey and yellow fur Shone ’mid the milky white. She quickly learned both rat and mouse To combat and surprise, For these abounded in the house Where first Tib oped her eyes. One half the year she tarried here, And then went to reside With Mrs. H., who lived quite near, (Her cat had lately died.) There play’d she many a youthful trick, Which gain’d her great applause; The rolling ball she’d follow quick, And seize between her paws. The floating feather she would chase, And with a spring attain; Nor buzzing fly could rest in peace About the window pane. But one mischievous trick of puss I mention to her shame; To see the mistress of the house A gentle lady came. Tib saw the bonnet of the guest Most carefully laid down, Then quickly comes to take her rest Within the satin crown. Miss Tibby’s head, and tail, and ears, Into this quiet station Are drawn, and not a hair appears To common observation. At length the lady took her hat,— And how they all did stare And laugh to see a sleeping cat So snugly nestled there. Six years rolled smoothly like the first, From every evil free, And many a kitten had she nurs’d The prettiest that could be. A most unusual sound one night Was heard, and Tib thereby Was roused at once from slumbers light, To hear a baby cry! No sound like this had met her ears Within that ancient dome In all the many quiet years That this had been her home. Straight up the stairway did she spring, And there beheld the elf,— A cunning, little, helpless thing, No bigger than herself. Tib loved the baby from that day, And oft would rub her head Against him in a friendly way, Or sit beside his bed. When puss was old, the baby Tom Had grown a stately boy, And since her feeble days had come, He would his time employ In nursing the poor, feeble cat, With bread and milk to feed, Or give her meat, both lean and fat, According to her need.
