Miranda Eliot Swan

I WAS suffering much from my shoulder just at this time, but we were very quiet, and I enjoyed lying on the lounge or in their laps and listening to the stories of the pets they had loved in their childhood. Miss Eleanor would read aloud, and indeed (you may laugh if you please) I could understand the nice things she selected.

One day she found some of Martin Luther's sayings. He one day remarked to his dog, that was growling, "Don't growl, little Hans, for in the resurrection thou, too, shalt have a little golden tail."

Miss Milly caught me up, saying, "Thou, too, Daisy, shalt go to heaven, and have golden bells on thy collar, for thy tail is more lovely than a golden one could be."

"How absurd you are!" said Miss Eleanor.

"Well, I do not think it absurd to believe we shall have our dear pets in the hereafter; heaven would not be heaven without them. God has not given them to us to love, without making provision for their hereafter. We have no little hands and feet waiting for us on the 'golden shore,' but little paws of all colors I know will be extended in welcome, and we shall be happy with our own again."

This comfortable doctrine suited me and made me very happy. Knowing that I could not live many years longer, the thought of an eternal separation from my loved ones would have been unbearable.

I did try to be good and be a comfort to them, but often my good resolutions were put to a hard test.

My mistress had one young friend who detested cats. She was very beautiful, and they loved her very much. She came to see us one day, and after greeting them affectionately, she said as her eye fell upon me, "Oh! have you got that old Tom cat now?"

How I bristled up! But Miss Milly was equal to her. "Would you like to have me speak of one of your children in this manner?" she said.

"I should think not," replied her friend; "but this is only a cat."

"And a cat that we both love as dearly as you love your children."

My rage at being called a "Tom cat" knew no bounds; it seemed to degrade me, and I thought to myself, "How can I avenge this insult?"

One can always find a chance to do wrong, and mine came at once. I espied her hat, gorgeous with feathers, birds, and wings, and brilliant beading. To my great discomfort—for it was very scratchy—I seated myself on the crown. I had no compunction when I heard the crunching of the beads and feathers, as I bent them under me. They seemed to say, "Tom cat,—indeed!"

I sat there till I felt pride had been sufficiently levelled; and as I chewed the delicate end of one of the expensive feathers, I felt that I might (in vulgar phrase) call myself even with her. Then I went under the bed, where I could with safety witness the impending tempest.

I was not disappointed. Words are powerless to express her wrath. Had her wishes been consulted, I should never have seen the light of another day.

When I saw how my mistress was distressed over my wickedness, my conscience did prick a little, though I did not repent. I had been called a "Tom cat," and for once I acted like one.

The climax was reached when Miss Eleanor produced a box containing a lovely wing and ornaments, and placed them where the broken ones had been. She said:—

"I do not approve of such decorations. Were I young, I would never wear anything that had been killed to pander to a foolish vanity. These were given me to put with some flowers and grasses for exhibition. If you will accept them in place of those our naughty pet has destroyed, I shall feel we have atoned for his thoughtlessness."

Accept! I guess she did, and in her heart thanked me for giving her such a treasure, though she gave me a cross look at parting, which I returned in full and longed to give her an etching.

I was disgusted. I had been outwitted, as people often are when they seek for revenge. It made me cynical, and I remained under the bed, thinking of the wrongs that are beyond redress, going on daily. I said to myself:—

"Just see! To gratify personal vanity how many millions of beautiful birds are slaughtered! Innocent creatures that God made, just like the lovely flowers, to make the world charming! And if a cat or any other animal kills a bird or chicken, their legitimate prey, knowing no better, they are called horrid creatures and hunted about just as if they were murderers."

They did not say anything about my naughty act; but I heard them (after they had called me to come out, and I had not answered) say, "Daisy is asleep." Then they laughed, while Miss Milly said: "Who could doubt that cats can understand, if they had seen Daisy's face when he was called a 'Tom cat.' I believe he sat on that hat to show his indignation."

All our friends were not of this order. One young artist was very fond of me, and we were quite chummy. He was a great big fellow, with a thick head of hair, and a mouth like a shoe-brush. I loved to see his teeth gleam through when he laughed, for they were perfect and white as snow. I did not like to have him rub his face over mine; it was like a porcupine, while my fur and whiskers are as soft as silk.

One day he had been fooling with me, and I gave him a good scratch. I raked his whiskers well, making his lip bleed. After that he called me his bar-ber-ous friend. Perhaps he thought I did not see the pun intended, but I did, and the point also.

I was rather sorry, and surprised. Somehow I thought his hair was like grass, and I could claw it as I pleased.

He brought me very nice catmint from his country home. Once he brought a pasteboard box with "Daisy" printed on the cover. I was very proud of that box, and always turned it over with the name on the top. He brought us a beautiful pitcher called after the Emperor Hadrian. The style of pitcher was taken from those found in his tomb.

You will see I have a taste for history. There is no doubt, had I lived at that period, I should have made wonderful excavations. Mummied mice or rats would have had no mercy from my claws.

My special interest in this pitcher was the beautiful white daisies it was often filled with. The contrast with the blue pitcher was perfect. He would bring in a bunch from his country home, and say, "Here, Daisy, are your namesakes; they are for you," while I would pretend to smell of them, delighted to make them all laugh. I would mount the table, and lie down by the side of the pitcher very contented.

My friend went to Virginia to sketch. He wrote word that he had planted a large grove of catmint for me, and had called it "Daisy's Plantation." Was I not happy and important! As Miss Milly said, I was a real landowner.

After his return, he went to Germany to study. In all his letters he remembered me. I was just as much interested in his progress as his other friends were, and enjoyed the photographs of his pictures he sent home.

In my opinion he was a great artist—better than the "old masters" they talk so much about. The "young masters" are good enough for me. He wanted to paint my picture, but Miss Milly refused, just as she had all other offers of this kind.

I did not like it, for I thought my friend would do me justice, and it might make his fortune, if exhibited. I used to look in the glass and pose, thinking what a lovely picture I would make.

I say it, and I suppose you will say, "What a vain cat!" But how about these society women (and men, as to that) who dress in velvets and jewels, and exhibit their charms, and so much of them that it makes a modest cat blush? What if they don't say, as I do, that they would make a lovely picture, do they not act it? You will soon discover, if you never knew it before, as you read my history of many cats, that animals are often superior to the human race.

My mistresses would often dress me and make me pose to please them, and for the life of me I could not see why I should not be painted for the benefit of others. They would tie a half-handkerchief on my head, the point trimmed with lace just between my ears, the ends tied under my chin. They called it a "Marie Stuart point." Whatever that might be, I knew not. I afterward learned that she was a queen, and was executed. It pleased my cat vanity to represent a queen.

I myself performed all the tricks I could think of. One day, being in a large armchair, I just posed, myself. I sat down, hung my two paws over the arm of the chair, my head on one side, my "Marie Stuart point" all right, the bow tied under my chin, my collar and padlock in sight, and then and there I made an impression never to be forgotten by those who saw me. As long as memory lasts they will remember me in all my beauty.

My mistress fell on her knees beside me, calling me all the pet names she could think of, while Miss Eleanor said, "If ever a cat lived that could equal Daisy, that cat I would like to see!"

I remained a long time in the same attitude, proud of my success. When Miss Milly brought a little hand-glass for me to see myself, I did not wonder they were delighted, and I wished they would let me pose for the benefit of poor cats. I knew I could draw a crowd.

I never would pose for those I did not care for. I tore off the handkerchief as soon as they put it on, and taking it by the lace edge, I shut my teeth on it and dragged it under the bed. After this they only asked me to pose for my friends. For them I was very willing to do my best. I enjoyed being called a "darling" and a "love" by pretty girls, just as any boy would enjoy it.

One friend of my mistress, a charming little woman and a real philanthropist, was quite fond of me. She was the mother of my dear girl friend, whom I introduced to you at my party. This good little woman was a real friend to animals of all kinds, but she particularly loved cats.

She told us one day when she came to see us about the cruel people in her neighborhood who went away in summer, leaving their cats to starve. She said she had the past summer chloroformed eighteen cats in the last stage of starvation and too far gone to save.

She had two lovely cats named Chico and Sancho. They had very beautiful clear white fur and blue eyes. They were very bright, learning readily many little tricks. They would turn a graceful somersault for their food, and behaved at all times with great politeness.

Chico had trouble with his teeth, and Sancho was in great distress about it. This sympathy was almost human. When he found he could do no good, he retired in deep distress to the corner of the room, where he preserved a grave silence. The family dentist soon made matters right by extracting the troublesome teeth, making both cats very happy. No doubt Chico disliked him just as children dislike those who operate upon them, even though the kindness is evident.

Mrs. M. said, when she was telling my mistress about Chico, "Of course you will have Daisy's teeth filled with gold when they decay?"

"Certainly," Miss Milly replied; "and I would hold him while it was done."

For days after this I had no peace. Visions of doctors with horrid instruments were ever before my eyes. I shut my mouth tight when any one came in; and at the name of doctor I fled under the bed, where I remained with fear and trembling, fearing my teeth were to be operated upon. I could not clean and brush my teeth, but I got a bit of grass and one of my catmint stalks, and sharpened my teeth on them, keeping them as nice as possible, to preserve them.

Last year I lost one tooth. It fell out without any pain, and I did not miss it; but Miss Milly did feel so badly about it, and cried when one of the family said, "Daisy is quite old; it is the beginning of the end."

Miss Eleanor was very indignant, saying, "If it is not 'the beginning,' it is the end, of their visits here; we will not entertain such cruel people."

They were more careful of me than ever after this. They cut up my food very fine, and I was very careful not to gnaw meat off of a bone, for fear it would injure my teeth, and bring the "beginning of the end" after me. Whatever that might be I did not know; but it was such a scare to Miss Milly that I thought it must be some monster that would devour me as soon as I lost my teeth.

Our nice friend told us a great many stories about cats she had known and loved. Her charming daughter, my girl friend, could make cats perform tricks very easily. She seemed to charm them. There were photographs of cats taken in every position, and they seemed to do just as she wished, for she took the pictures of them herself.

We had very few cats in our neighborhood, and I did long sometimes to see one of my own old friends. I went out every day when it was pleasant, and sat upon a high fence, where I could look into back alleys, where the poor people had one or two miserable rooms, scanty furniture, and probably very little food, and I noticed with pleasure that in every one of these poor homes a cat could be seen sitting before the small fire, an honored member of the family. I wished I could write a check for these good-hearted people. It made me laugh; for who would honor a cat's check?

If I could talk, I know my dear friends would help them, if I could tell how much they need it; but as I cannot, I must content myself with good intentions.