Saunders Pussy Black-Face

The Story of a Kitten and Her Friends
1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-3-7364-1631-4
Verlag: anboco
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 320 Seiten

By the Fire A Cat's Refuge A Surprising Change I Visit My Family The Cat on the Common My First Fight A New Sensation Serena Astonishes Us On the Train We Reach the Country Maine, Lovely Maine My Headstrong Sister Pigs, Cows and Chickens My Sister Gives a Lecture The Mole-hunt The Return of the Children The Mischievous Guinea-hen The Owl and the Chickens The Close of the Summer In the City Again

Autoren/Hrsg.

Saunders, Marshall

Leseproben

CHAPTER II
A CAT'S REFUGE

Where am I? Can I collect my thoughts and reflect a little—was there ever such an unhappy cat? Only last night I sat and purred myself to sleep beside my dear mother. Pressed close against her soft fur, I had no thought of harm, and now where am I? But I must not be silly. Let me close my eyes, and purr hard for a while, then sense will come to me.

I must not open them. When I look round this room, and see the shadowy form of cat after cat, I think I will go crazy—and yet what a simpleton I am. I am safe here. Danger is over; let me be thankful that I escaped as I did.

Well, to go back to this morning. The east wind was out of the air. When mother and I, and father, and Serena, and Jimmy Dory came yawning and stretching out of the sitting-room and looked down-stairs, the hall door was wide open, the sun was pouring in.

Mrs. Darley was so glad. She just loves sunshine. She went round the house opening doors and windows, and just as soon as breakfast was over, we all ran out on the sidewalk.

Cats get dreadfully tired of a back yard, and the back yards on Beacon Hill are so sunless and dull. We like fun and excitement—a little mild excitement—as much as human beings do. So my father and mother sat on the big sunny stone door-step, while Serena, Jimmy Dory and I played on the pavement.

We had a tiny round pebble that we were rolling with our paws. It was such a funny little pebble. I pushed it, and danced, and caught it in my paws and tossed it, and had a beautiful time, until my mother began to warn me.

“Black-Face, don't go down the hill; there are bad boys there. Keep up here.”

“I don't see any boys,” I said wilfully.

“They will soon see you if you go down there,” said my father severely.

I didn't believe him, and I thought my mother was fussy. I see now that little cats have to learn by experience. Nothing would have convinced me that there were bad boys at the foot of the hill, if I had not seen them and felt the grasp of their unkind hands.

While we were playing, the little pebble suddenly began to roll down hill. How fast it went! I watched it for a few instants, and then something said: “Go after it, Black-Face!”

I tried hard not to. I looked back at my parents sunning themselves on the door-step, I stared at Serena and Jimmy Dory who were cautious young cats, and rarely disobeyed their parents.

“I'll just snatch it and run back,” I mewed hastily; then I ran.

I caught the little pebble, but alas! Something caught me. Just as I put my paw on it, I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of boys standing in a near alley. I turned to run, but it was too late. One of them sprang toward me, and seized me by the back.

Then he started to race, not up the hill, but further down. I was nearly suffocated with fright and pain, for the boy held me so tightly that I could scarcely breathe. No one had ever clutched me like this before. I had never been whipped. I had never been roughly handled, for Margaret and Billy were good children.

This boy was a monster. His face was red and dirty, his eyes were bulging from his head, and he stumbled as he ran, so that I was afraid he would fall on me and kill me.

I may as well say here that the boy was not as bad as he seemed to me. He had not stolen me. He was merely having some fun, or what he called fun. He was some poor child that had had no one to teach him to be kind to animals. He did not dream that I was suffering. He did not think that a cat was capable of suffering.

So he hurried on and on, and some of the other boys ran yelling behind him. I don't know exactly what streets he took. I was too terrified to notice the way we were going, but soon I saw a river in the distance. Was he going to throw me in it? Half choked as I was, I dug my claws in his coat, and gave a frantic “Meow!” for, like all cats, I hate water.

“Boy,” called a policeman suddenly, “what are you doing with that cat?”

My captor was frightened and dropped me, and he and the other boys turned and ran back. You may be sure that I made a dash for liberty. I sprang wildly past the policeman, and not daring to follow the boys who were going toward my home, I leaped into a narrow, dirty street where there was a dreadful confusion of wagons, cars and throngs of people.

I threaded my way among them all—I don't know how I escaped being killed—until finally I was forced to pause for breath.

Unfortunately some boys and girls saw me and gave chase. I don't think they wanted to hurt me. They wished to catch me, but I was in terror again, and ran into an alley. They followed me, so I sprang on a heap of boxes, and then to a low porch.

The children discovered me there, and while some tried to coax me down, others threw stones at me. I looked up desperately. There was no help for me on the ground, for a big boy had begun to climb on the porch.

I examined the sloping side of the house roof. Then I leaped on it. Two or three times I fell back, but at last I succeeded in making my claws hold. They were fine sharp ones, or they never would have done so.

In two minutes I was on the very roof of the house, panting hard, my heart almost out of my body, everything black before my eyes; but I was safe.

There I saw that I was free from pursuit. The children had gone away. At the same time, the roof was not very comfortable. It was cold and slippery, for, by this time, the lovely sun had gone behind a cloud, and soon I began to be very uneasy.

I thought of my father, and mother, and Serena and Jimmy Dory—that distressed group at the top of the hill—for I had had one glimpse of them as I was snatched by the boy. Oh, why had I not minded my mother, and not run away from home? What was going to become of me? Must I spend the night in this dreadful place?

I thought of my little blue and white saucer that Mrs. Darley's kind cook filled with milk for me every noon. “Oh, meow! meow!” I cried pitifully. “Will no one help a poor little cat?”

A skylight in the roof opened, and an old man's face looked out. Such a kind face, but still I did not trust him, and moved away to the other end of the ridge pole. “Little cat,” he said seriously, “there is help even for such as you. I will go seek it,” and he disappeared.

I did not know what he meant, so I continued to cry piteously. I wanted my mother and dear Mrs. Darley. I was too far up to be heard from the street, but a few persons opened near-by windows, and looked at me indifferently.

“Only a cat,” they said. “Let her get down the way she came up.”

“Oh, dear! dear!” I mewed, “must I stay on this roof till I perish from hunger?” For now it was beginning to get dark and cloudy and to look like rain. “Oh, meow! meow!”

Just as I was giving up hope, the skylight opened again.

“There she is, sir,” I heard the old man say, then a young man put his head out, and looked at me.

He had a good face. I'm only a kitten, but I've found out that if a man spends his life in doing good, he has a good face.

I trusted him, and yet I was afraid to go to him, if you can understand that.

“Kitty,” he said soberly, “over there,” and he waved his hand toward the heart of the city, “is a place where lost dogs and cats are sheltered. Come to me, and I will take you to it. Come——” and he held out his hand.

“Oh, meow! meow!” I said, “if I go to you, perhaps you will throw me away down there in that raging, horrible street.”

“No, Pussy,” he said seriously, shaking his head. “No, I never have deceived an animal. Come here, and I will put you in a nice basket where no one will see you, and I will carry you through the noisy street. Here——” and he threw me a tiny piece of liver.

Now, I am very fond of nicely cooked liver. I think it is vulgar to eat it raw. Fortunately, I caught the liver, and it did taste good, and made me think more of the man. He still had some in his hand. I smelt it, so I crept timidly toward him along the roof.

“Poor Pussy! poor Pussy!” he kept saying, and presently I was eating from his hand, and he was stroking my ears as I ate. Then he stepped back quietly into the room. He didn't try to catch me, but he put the liver down where I could reach it.

I peeped in through the skylight. The young man and the old man were talking. “Yes, sir,” the younger one was saying, “we've got a refuge for dogs and cats, but it isn't half large enough. I look at the matter this way. The animals are put in the world by the same Creator that put us here. They've got their rights. Give them their share of room on mother earth, and if you don't love them, and love to take care of them, and you worship only your own selfish, old body, then take care of the animals out of that same love for yourself.”

“That's so, sir, that's so,” and the old man nodded his head.

“Because,” the young man went on, “a neglected animal is a...