A PUSSY CAT'S TALE.

White Ribbon, Volume 22, Issue 260, 19 February 1917, Page 11

A PUSSY CAT'S TALE.

The winter that Jack Barker was “eight, going on nine,” he felt that he would like to have something that was alive to pet and call his own; therefore his mother got from a neighbour who had several, a kitten, and it was given to Jack as his own special pet. He was told by his mother to feed and take care of it himself, as she had other things to do. Of course Jack went to school. On some mornings he was late, ate his own breakfast in great haste, and forgot all about his kitten. Then the poor kitten would go about mewing until somebody, perhaps the cook, remembered to give it a little milk. This kitten did not have a happy tune. Jack’s mother said she “never had liked cats," so when this one, purring as hard as it could, came near her when she sewed or read and tried to lie on the edge of her dress or climb into her lap—it had no bed of its own Mrs Barker pushed it away, and put it out of the room, declaring that it was “a regular nuisance.” She did not remember that the kitten was a baby, a baby animal, and needed love and kindness as all young things do, and a soft bed of its own to sleep in, such as all babies ought to have, and such as baby creatures do have when they are in a wild state. Mother birds make comfortable nests for their little ones, and mother animals make nice beds of dried leaves or grass in quiet places for their babies. Whether we are young or old, we like to have beds, and so do all the animals that live with us.

Jack Barker was not a cruel boy, and would not have tried to hurt or make his kitten unhappy. He did it by being careless. He did not see to it that there was water where the k’tten could always get it, so she very thirsty sometimes. One- day when she jumoed into the kitchen sink and tried to get a few drops the «oook was very angry, and said she “did not want a nasty cat in her sink, where she washed dishes.” Jack heard her, and that time the poor kitten got all the nice, clean water it wanted. On Saturdays and at other times when Jack was at home he played with his kitten and showed it to other boys and girls who came 'to •'ee him. This made the kitten unhappy, because it got such rr”gh handling and har’d squeezing. But

Frances Ward, who never wa s rough, and who used to sit down quietly and take the kitten in her lap and gently stroke its soft fur. How happy it was then, and how loudly it sung its pussycat song! But Jack did not understand gentleness, and so he used to chase his kitten when he wanted her, and catch there was one little girl, her name was her up roughly, and one day, when he had caught her he squeezed her tight, and she was so frightened and hurt that she scratched him. Then he threw her down and scolded, and his mother said “that was what to expect, as cats were treacherous. ” Now Jack could read very well, but he did not know the meaning of the word “treacherous,” so he went into the house and looked for it in his father’s big dictionary, and found that to be treacherous was to be “like a traitor, to betray a trust, to be false, or to be a plotter.” Sometimes Jack sat down for just a few minutes and thought, and he did it this time. He had learned something about traitors at school, and he could not see that any of them were like kittens, or that his kitten had done any of the things that traitors do. Then he thought about betraying a trust. He put his head in his hands and said to himself, “If my father or mother asked me to do something and I said I would, and then just on purpose didn’t, I guess that would be betraying a trust.” He could not see that his kitten had done anything like this either, nor, after considering some more, did he think it was “false” or “a plotter.” He remembered how roughly he had picked it L’p, and at last, neing an honest boy, h» said to himself, “Well, 1 guess I’d scratch, too, or kick, or something, if I was collared that way, and I s’pose a kitten don’t know as much as me.” By the time winter was over and warm weather had come the kitten had grown to quite a good-sized cat, and Jack had become fond of her, and was rather more careful about getting food for her, and of such kinds as she liked. Besides this, there was a new cook, who was kinder to animals than the other had been. The kitten *>ad grown up very pretty and was and loving and glad to be whreie Jack was. He had giver her a pamr, it was “Frisk.”' But now Ja<k’s father and mother began to talk of going away for the summer.

The house was to be closed, and they were to board in some distant place in the mountains. A title of great confusion and disturbance began. Men in heavy boots stamped about, carrying carpets; women with buckets went from room to room, and there was no place in the house where a cat could hope to remain undisturbed; therefore, Frisk ran out . ad hid herself so that no one in the family could have found her without walking about and quietly calling her. But no one thought of this. Jack was so full of plans for having a good time during his holiday that he did not give- any thought to his cat for days, nor ask any questions as to what was to become of her. On the last morning the carriage came to the door, Jack and his parents got in, and they had begun to move off when Jack happened to look back, and there was 1- risk’s head peeping out from under a pore h! “Ohi. mother,” cried Jack, “we’ve forgotten Frisk. We must take her with us. Let’s turn back.” “Take her with us? Nonsense,” said Mrs Barker. “The hotel does not include cats among its guests.” “But, mother,” said Jack, “she can’t get into the house, and then, who’s going to feed her?” “She does not need to get into the house,” replied his mother, “and as to feeding, she can look out for herself.” “P’raps she don’t know how to look out for herself,” persisted Jae k. “She’ll be hungry -” “When she’s hungry she’ll learn.” said Mrs Barker sharply. “Anyway, we must catch the tn in, so there’s no more to be said about it.” Jack said no more, and the interest of the journey soon caused him to forget all about his cat. As soon as the carriage was out of sight, and everything was quiet, Flisk crept out from under the porch. She had had no breakfast, and for days before only an occasional scrap, which the cook threw to her if she happened to see her in the evening, and that had not happened every evening. She was now very hungry. She crept about in an uncertain half-frightened manner, lookirg up at the closed house, which seemed so strange and still. She began to mew piteously, for she was lonely as well as hungry. She spent all that day going about the house, hoping that at last the door would open. Sometimes she sat

down for a little while and waited; then she got up and began ag*»in to try. W hen night came she wahdered off, and in a neighbour’s yard found an old ( rust which had been dropped outside of a garbage ptil. She ate this ravenously, but ihe lid was on the pail, and so she could get nothing more.

After this h/r life was one fcf con stant hunger and suffering. She became very thin. Her fur w;.s rough and dirty, for a cat which is starved feels too badly to take any trouble. Her eyes grew weak and sore-looking, be< ause she h.td cried so much —cats like Frisk shed real tears when they are unhappy. One day a cruel boy who saw her, said to another, “See me make that old cat run.” and then threw a stone, which hit her on the head and made a bad wound. Another dav, when the hunger was gnawing her poor stomach until she was nearly frantic- she had not had even a crust for days—she saw a k tchen door open, crept in, and was just about to take some meat off a table, when a \yoman saw her and drove her out. She did not run very far, because sh(\ hoped to go back when the woman wars not looking. You see, she was so hungry she forgot fear. But the woman saw her near the hou>e, and in order to make sure of driving her away, she carried out some dirty water and threw it at her. Some of it went over her, and you can understand how miserable she was then. Cats do not like water on their fur, especially dirty water They are naturally clean animals.

This dreadful life went on for weeks. Poor Frisk had not been able to get even mice, because there were only strange stables for her to go to with strange men in them, of whom she was afraid, and other cats, who considered the stables theirs because they lived there, and the mice, too, if there were any. W hen poor F risk became thin and weak from starvation she could no longer smell keenly, and if mice had been about she would not have known it. Cats do not smell keen’y unless they are well fed. One day Frisk saw a young bird, not quite able to fly, and she caught it and ate it. After that she robbed nests several t mes, which was dreadful, hut what is a starving cat to do? Any one who leaves a cat to starve is the

enemy of the birds, and is doubly cruel.

Bet soon the birds’ nesting time was over, and the birds were out of reach. The weather was hot, and Frisk was soon in such a sad state from weakness and the treatment cruel boys had given her that she could only creep about in corners near the house which had been her home. She could no longer evn look for food. She was slowly dying. One morning she was lying under the porch. She heard a voice. Surely it was one that she remembered ! She crawled feebly out, and tried to utter a little cry. The owner of the voice, who was no other than the kind little F'ranees Ward who had petted her in the winter, r«»u to her, stooped down and uttered a cry of dismay. Then she ran back to the lady who was with her, and said, sobbing, “Oh, mother, mother! Come here! This is Jack Barker’s cat! The poor, poor thing! She is dying! Oh, what shall we do?” “You must be quiet, dear,” said the nice-looking lady, to whom all this had been said, or rather screamed, “and we will do something at once. The poor cat is very ill, I think, from want of food. You must stay with her a few minutes while 1 get some.”

In a very short time Mrs Ward came ba< k with some warm milk in a cup, and a lar\e apron. She opened poor Frisk’s mouth and dropped a little of the milk into it from the end of her finger, and after taking some in this way the poor (at was able to lap a little, slowly and feebly. Mrs Ward said she must not have much at first, but she would give her some more very soon. Then she laid the apron over her body, and, carefully lifting her, carried her to her own house in the next street. A nife bed was made for her in a basket; it was put in a quiet place, where no one saw her but Mrs Ward and the gentle little F'rances, and in a few hours Frisk was able to stand on her poor thin legs and look up, oh, so gratefully, into the kind faces of her rescuers, and even to utter little mews expressive of her joy jn finding friends once more. But they put her back in her basket, and told her to be a good cat. and go to sleep, as a good sleep was just what she needed. And Frisk did sleep, and eat, and got well, but it took quite a long time, and the fur never grew very well over

the place in her head where the cruel wound had been. About a week after her res(ue the Barker family returned. Coming home reminded Jack of his cat, and he began to look about for her, and even to inquire of the neighbours, but most of them had been away more or less, and they said they kn. w nothing about her. Then one day he met Frances Ward, and she described the finding of poor Frisk. Jack looked grave. “Was she dyin’ for want of grub, really for want of grub?” he inquired. Frances nodded. “Where is she now?” “At our house,” said Frances. “I’m cornin’ to see her,” said Jack. When Frances led him to the quiet corner where Frisk’s basket was, she was lying in it curled up, fast asleep. Frances walked softly. “We do not disturb her when she is asleep,” she said. “Mother says sleep is good for her after suffering so much.” “All our fault, wasn’t it?” said Jack. “Mother says it is kinder to chloroform a cat than to leave it without care,” said Frances. “But we used to take our cat in a big basket, with the cover tied on over it, to Mrs Dill’s to board whenever we went away. She was so kind to hir. thhe did not mind, and we did that year while he lived. But,” sue added gravely, “he had the pleasure to pass away in his own home. He had a decent burial, and I can show you his tomb. I made it myself with bricks.” Jack thought a minute, then he looked up. “Do you want Frisk to keep?” he said. “Yes, indeed. May I have her? Honest ?” “Yes, honest,” sa d Jack. “Our house isn’t comfortable for a cat.” Which was quite true.