The Nomad of the Nine Lives | Page 5

At night I came out, and a few
uncovered garbage pails helped me wonderfully, although it hurt my
pride to eat this sort of food. I was young and healthy, however, and
enjoyed the free life in the open air.
I made a few good friends, some of whom I have kept to this day. I
remember that I learned to shun boys, for they were apt to throw stones.
How they can be so cruel I cannot understand. If they realized how the
stones cut and sting, they would never use them for missiles and us for
targets. I nursed a wound on my hip bone for weeks, which was very
painful and was caused by a boy hitting me with a sharp stone. What
satisfaction can it be to them? Harming a defenseless animal can surely
give none, but it always seems a great temptation to them to do so.
Once I saw a group of small boys stoning a kitten which they had tied
to a raft. I was glad when a big policeman caught them at it. Dogs and
boys were the only drawback to what was otherwise a perfect life, and
a lazily lounging about one; first a feast and then a famine.
No matter how intense were the pangs of hunger, I followed mother's
advice and never ate sparrows or any other birds.

About this time I made the acquaintance of a cat who lived in a theatre
and one night he invited me to go behind the scenes with him. My eyes
were opened that night. Strange looking girls in stranger looking
costumes came upon the stage and attempted to dance and sing. The
like of this I had never seen before (nor, I hope, will I ever again).
When their gowns were not too short, they were much too loud for my
taste, but, nevertheless, it seems that people sit for hours watching them
rave, dance, and scream. These peculiar people were kind to me,
though, for I ambled about with considerable interest. One young
female called out, "Larry, pipe the new cat!"
Now I had seen Mr. Carver smoke a pipe and sometimes he would pick
me up and playfully blow rings of smoke in my face and laugh at me so
I scurried away for fear I should have to take one of those nasty things
in my mouth. As I was leaving the theatre one man called out to me to
"beat it," and, as I could not understand their language, which was not
in the text books at school, I made good my escape with the kindly help
of an old shoe, which accompanied me part way. "That is no place for a
self-respecting cat," I thought, so went out into the night. I was a
homeless wanderer, but managed to find a quiet corner in a dark alley
and soon went to sleep.
I awoke much refreshed, but very hungry as my friend of the theatre
had neglected to treat me to anything more substantial than a chance to
look on. Oh, how I longed for a drink of milk or water! I was sorely
tempted and fell. On a door-step a short distance away was a jar of milk.
It was a moment's work to tip it over and remove the paper top with a
sharp claw. I lapped my fill and left some in the bottle for the family.
That theft was bad enough, but I fell still lower. One day I was very
hungry, and happened long just as some masons had ceased working, in
order to eat their lunches. One of the men took the cover from his
dinner pail and, leaving it open on the ground, walked away for a few
minutes. I darted quickly to the pail and, to my delight, saw a large
slice of corned beef. It was quick work to snatch it and run away, and
how good it tasted! I ate it so fast that I remember I suffered afterwards
from indigestion,--or perhaps it was a bad conscience.

CHAPTER IV
Things were going from bad to worse and I was becoming tired of my
present life, but there did not seem to be any way out of it. When I went
back to my dark alley I fell asleep, but tossed and turned and was very
uneasy. At midnight I was aware of hearing hoarse voices whispering
together; alert and listening I heard two men talking about "lifting some
swag." I did not know what that was but kept still. One said that he
would watch outside while the other forced a dining-room window.
"If the job is done quietly," said one, "we can get all the silver without
waking the family." I then understood the expression, "It takes