The Book of the Cat | Page 3

not know any better, for she was only a kitty.) The
water might be cold; but at least it did not hurt, while her nose and ears
smarted sharply from her mother's well-meant scratches. Then Mother
Cat grew desperate and lost her head completely, circling round and
round her baby, now coaxing Calico to jump out--"As if I wouldn't if I
could!" thought the kitten--now crying piteously. After what seemed to
Tabby an age, but was really less than five minutes, the groom, who
had really been the innocent cause of all this trouble, sauntered in and
put an end to it by lifting Calico tenderly out. Gently he dried the little
trembling thing, and sat her down in her comfortable box once more,
where Mrs. Cat at once cuddled down close beside her. Suddenly
spying her sisters again, she made a fresh start only to be stopped by a
well-directed slap from her mother's swift paw. "M'you, M'you!"
snapped Mrs. Cat. "You just sit still for a while. I've had worry enough
for one day, and I will not help you out again."
"I don't want you to," sniffed Calico, rubbing her still smarting nose
thoughtfully.
Tabby sighed, as the kitten made yet another start for her sisters, but
wisely let her go.
"Did you ever?" she groaned; "but then, kittens will be kittens!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]

A Feline Fantasy.
"Oh, Maria?" "Tom?" "'Ria!" "Tom!" "'R-r-ria!" The two voices grew

fervent, rose higher-- Till their serenades sweet Interruption did meet
From a bootjack that took a quick flyer.

A Night On.
"I've a very great longing for a sweet juicy robin; what do you say to
catching one or two, you old moon-gazer?"
Whitey gave Mr. Twinkletoes Black a playful chuck under the chin,
skipped gleefully across the moonlit roof and back, and sat down
sociably by him, before that leisurely pussy turned his head to look
scornfully at the youthful--I almost said "speaker," but as all of their
conversation is in cat language perhaps "mewer" would be more exact.
"You foolish kitten! Who ever caught a robin in December?"
"My dear boy!"--Twinkletoes' tone made Whitey think he was anything
but a dear boy--"When you've lived three years as I have (Whitey was
just ten months old) you'll know December when you--er--feel it! It's
apt to be cool, and snow--Ugh! Horrid stuff, it is; white--sticks to your
feet you know; wet!--" The fussy Mr. Black shook a dainty paw at the
very thought, while Whitey listened eagerly, so that the next time he
would know how December felt.
"There's one nice thing about it," added Twinkletoes: "the nights are
long, and one has time to sing--and sing! One could--"
"Why can't one, Twinky?" asked Whitey hopefully.
"Oh, we might try, but--er--well, bootjacks, you know, hair-brushes,
old shoes!--but it's very good exercise, this dodging."
"You said singing," corrected Whitey, rather puzzled. He didn't
"know," but never having sung on roofs it was new and sounded
thrilling. "Come on," he urged; "let's!" They started in, and their voices
rose into awful sleep-destroying discords:
"R-r-r-i-ah--M-m-r-r-riee--Mer-r-r-row!" Louder and more

banshee-like grew the noise till the expected missiles began to arrive.
Twinkletoes Black was an expert dodger and skipped gracefully from
place to place, avoiding the brushes and bottles that dropped from the
windows of the tall apartment house next door.
Whitey had retired, silent, after the first old slipper landed heavily on
his tail; but he was admiring Mr. Black's prowess with his whole heart.
Nevertheless he was glad when the excitement was over with the
"song," and they settled down by the chimney once more. The crisp air
made him hungry, and again his thoughts turned birdward.
"Let's get some sparrows then," he said, as if there had been no
interruption since birds were spoken of. "The early bird, you know, and
it will be 'early' if we sit up much later. I never saw an early bird myself,
but I suppose there are such things. I prefer a morning nap after these
nights on. Haven't much use for early birds, usually." (To hear Whitey
talk one would have thought he spent every night singing to the
moon--this was his first!)
"Not a bad idea, for a youngster," said Twinkletoes pleasantly.
The two edged a little nearer the warm bricks and waited, purring a
bumble-y duet to pass the time. "Just look at that moon!" sighed
Twinkletoes, still musically inclined. "Got whiskers or something,
hasn't it?" asked Whitey staring curiously at the illuminated clock-face.
Where he sat the moon was hidden by the chimney and invisible to
him.
"And it's sitting down on the tower!"
Stretching his neck excitedly that he might better see what made it act
so, he caught sight of the real moon and instantly subsided into the
meekest pussy