Daisy Part 17

I opened my eyes wide (I know that I have very handsome eyes, and love to show them off, just as boys and girls do); for I did not know what a thanksgiving meant.

"Yes," she said, "I have just received a note from our friend, Miss W.

You know her." (I winked in answer, for I did admire her.) "Every year she sends us a turkey, with a basket of goodies all cooked, ready to eat. This note tells me that she will send the basket Thursday morning.

Now you do not understand what 'Thanksgiving' means, and I will explain it to you."

I settled myself comfortably on her lap; she always put on a clean white ap.r.o.n to keep the hairs from my coat off of her dress. I resented this, for I could not see, for the life of me, why cats' hair was not quite as good as camels' hair that her dress was made of. And I just crawled under her ap.r.o.n one day when she was reading, and I liked the feeling of the soft wool better than I did the cambric ap.r.o.n, it was so woolly and warm.

I had just snoozed off, dreaming that I was asleep between the camel's humps she had told me of, when all at once she dropped her book, saying, "Oh, Daisy, just look at my dress!" And sure enough, it was covered all over with gray hair, for I was shedding my fur fast.

I was really ashamed of myself, and said: "I am just like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. So I will just go under the bed, the best place for a 'Hyde,'

and repent of my wickedness. I do not know why I do these things, but my mistress loves me all the same."

So this afternoon I sat on her nice ap.r.o.n, listening to her story of Thanksgiving like a well-behaved cat.

This is what she told me: That on the last Thursday of November it usually occurred. The Governor of the State made a proclamation, which was read in all the churches and published in the papers. The day was set apart for giving thanks for all the blessings G.o.d had bestowed on us during the year.

Of course I had to listen to all this, but I was awful anxious for her to get to that basket. But for once she was very tiresome, and now I am glad she was, for I have an idea of Thanksgiving I shall never forget.

Once, she said, people invited all their family, no matter how many or how poor they were, to dine. They always attended church, and then returned to a bountiful dinner of turkey, chickens, plum puddings of mammoth size, and pies of every variety. All the poor of the family would eat all they could for the present, and then fill in for the future.

The children, who never get too much, had nuts and candy in plenty, and the day was altogether lovely to them all, more particularly to those who gave than to those who received.

Now, she said, things were changed. No one invited or thought of the poor of the family, and no one went to church but the poor relations who had nowhere else to go.

Perhaps the minister preached from the text, "In my Father's house are many mansions;" that is, if he had an idea of the fitness of things,--that it would give the poor homeless ones a sure hope of the future, where perhaps those who have such nice homes here would not be as well off as the poor would be; and this Christian thought would help them bear their slights with patience.

Meanwhile the rich do not go to church. They give dinner parties to those who have money and a higher rank in society; and if one thought is given to their own flesh and blood who are poor, they wish that all the old grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts and cousins were old turkeys and chickens; then their necks would be wrung, and they would be rid of them forever, and would never be called upon to remember kindness rendered to them in the past by these same old relatives.

The sons of the family celebrate the day by a grand carousal, which leaves its mark on them for many days.

"But," she said, "we have no such days to remember, we are very quiet and sad, but very thankful for all our blessings; and you are one of the greatest. I have told you all this because I know you understand it, and I love to talk to you." (Oh my! how my heart did swell with pride when she said that.) "I want you to have a lovely time this year--a real Thanksgiving."

Of course I was all ready for it. I did not sleep much that night, and was early at the window to see the arrival of that basket. Long before it arrived I had thought long and seriously of all my mistress had told me.

I was perfectly wild when that basket came and they unfolded the turkey.

I could have hugged him at once, he did smell so good, but I never moved from the ha.s.sock where my mistress placed me.

I never saw such a lot of nice dishes and beautiful things on them. Even the dessert had not been forgotten. There was such a big bunch of celery. I thought it was a tree, and that I could run up in it.

At last, after the inward cravings after that fowl had torn me almost to pieces, and my desire to be polite and good had been almost upset by the inclination to rush in and devour right and left, they carved up the turkey, and I had so many tidbits I did not know which to eat first, the head or the tail, for I had both of them.

I did do justice to that dinner, and, like a child, as I did not know when to leave off, they had to take it from me. I then laid down and slept so sound that I had the nightmare. I thought I was beset by poor relations: that an aunt was sitting on my head, an uncle on my tail, and cousins on my stomach, and they pressed me so hard that I yelled out loudly.

Miss Eleanor came to me, saying, "What is the matter?" Of course I could not tell her, but I did not want to have such visitors again. I would rather give them my dinner.

We had a very light supper, and my mistress promised me the sequel to my Thanksgiving the next day. Indeed, the sequel beat the beginning, and I thought how nice it would be always to live on sequels.

They took a big platter, and stood it on a newspaper on the floor. In it was the carca.s.s of the turkey and all the giblets. Miss Milly said I should, for once, have a real low-minded junket.

And I did. It was like a bone-yard, with the remains all around me. I felt so generous that I would willingly have said "come" to all the poor relations in the world. They would be welcome to all the bones I had picked and all of the quack. It was lovely, but I was greased from head to foot. When tired, I seated myself on the bones, in the midst of the carca.s.s, and my fur was glued together in places.

The work of cleaning me was something fearful. I was as patient as I could be, though I could not help jerking away a few times. Miss Milly said, "You do not look like my lovely Daisy," and it was many days before I looked like myself again.

That evening my mistress let me look at the photograph of our nice young friend. I thought it lovely and a very good likeness. I gave a little purr at it, but I suppose a gobble or a crow would have been more appropriate.

She is a very dear friend to my mistress, and I am very fond of her.

When she comes in, I always keep awake to hear her talk. She is very fascinating. I do not think she cares very much for cats. I suppose it is because she does not know much about them. One thing I do know: she would be kind to them, for when I am left alone with her, she smiles at me and says, "Daisy, you are a nice cat," just the same as if my mistress were here.

Some people make so much of me before my mistress, but behind her back say, "Scat, you old cat!" There is no need for them to speak. I know them, and would not go near them on any account. Then I do wish I could speak and warn my mistress of their falseness.

One of these people called one day and brought her great boy with her.

He could hardly keep his hands off of me. When my mistress took his mother into the next room, to show her some work, he lingered behind, thinking, "Now is my opportunity."

He pulled my ear and yelled "Sa.s.sage meat" in it. Whatever he meant by his "sa.s.sage meat" I did not know, but I saw my opportunity and gave him a good dig with my claws and made his cheek bleed. He bellowed well, like a real calf, and his mother looked daggers at me, for I boldly stood my ground. I would not go to my retreat under the bed, for I was not to blame.

Miss Milly was very sorry, and helped his mother wash his cheek and got court-plaster for her. After he had been coaxed and comforted, he poured forth his wrongs, saying that he was sitting quietly, when I rushed upon him and without the least provocation clawed his face.

Miss Eleanor came forward then, saying, "You are mistaken. I was in the alcove, and saw you pull Daisy's ear and yell 'sa.s.sage meat' in it, and he scratched you in self-defence." The mother was very indignant. She said, "I have always told Harold never to touch such spiteful creatures as cats." No one answered her, and she soon left with her pretty boy, and she never came again.

Miss Eleanor said she thought, as Harold was to be a lawyer,--so his mother had told her,--he would never let truth stand in his way in gaining a case.

My ear did burn from the sharp nails he had pinched it with, and I was not sorry that I defended myself, and I made up my mind that when children came to the house, particularly if they were with their parents, I would keep out of their way.

Miss Milly came to the same conclusion. She said: "Daisy shall not be subjected to a trial of this kind again; it spoils his temper and makes him rude, and then he is unhappy about it."

And I was. I had reason to remember it, for my ear was swollen, and they were obliged to put salve on it to make it heal.

Some time after this we went into the country for a short time. While there I made the acquaintance of a very intelligent cat. His name was Pedro. He was very hard to get acquainted with at first, and I was just wild to know him, for he was very handsome and dignified.

I thought of every reason why he was so cool to me. At last I said to myself: "It is my collar and padlock. He thinks I am proud." So I worked and worked till I got the padlock up on my back, and then I licked down my fur to cover my collar. Then I walked out, and after a few turns in the garden I saw Pedro on the grounds. He belonged to a very wealthy man, and the house and grounds were quite lovely.

I walked to meet him very humbly. When I said, "Good morning, Pedro," he looked me all over, and instead of answering me, he said with a scoff, "Oh, you are in disgrace, are you?"

"No indeed," I answered; "what makes you think so?"

"Because you are not in full dress, and I miss that trinket you are so proud of."

This did provoke me, and I said, "The 'trinket,' as you call my nice padlock, is on my back. I supposed it was that that made you so against me. All the cats are envious and jealous of that."

"Envious! jealous!" he hissed. "I guess I am not a mean fellow enough to be jealous of a trumpery bit of finery on a stuck-up cat."

I had to swallow to keep down my temper. As I did want his friends.h.i.+p, I pa.s.sed over his insolence in silence.

As I turned to go home I said: "I cannot understand why you dislike me; I have been anxious to be friends with you, and have wondered if my collar and padlock had made you think I put on airs. I tried to hide this gift of my dear mistress, though it seemed treachery to her, thinking perhaps you would then be pleased with me. Now, of course, I shall never try for your friends.h.i.+p again."

He had been silent, but he moved about uneasily. Then he winked very fast, and at last said: "Is that really so? Did you want to be friends with me? Why, I thought of all the blue-bloodedest, old-familiest, aristocratical creeters, you were the biggest. I thought you were a cat duke or a count, and them's the creeters I despise, for I am a real democrat."

"So am I," I joyfully said, too much delighted to notice Pedro's bad grammar. "There is my paw on it, and I do hope we shall be good friends.

We ought to be _fast_ friends. As for the dukes and counts, I spell them without capitals. That is how I value them. The only likeness they have to us is that we have whiskers, with this difference: the barber makes theirs, while G.o.d made ours."