Daisy Part 27

There is another story I like very much. It is about a cat and a dog, and they lived in Beverly, in a very beautiful place quite near the sh.o.r.e.

The dog's name was Watch, and the cat was named Chloe. Watch was not a handsome dog, but he was a faithful, good little fellow. He had very short legs (my mistress said, just like a cricket). He was a dark yellow, or what now is called a dull old gold. He had a very broad back, where Chloe could sit comfortably whenever she pleased.

Watch was very humble, and believed in "woman's rights" evidently, for he never offered any resistance when Chloe saw fit to use him for an easy-chair. He would crouch down on his short legs, and solace himself with a good sleep--that was his panacea for every ill. But he never allowed his master, whom he wors.h.i.+pped, to take one step without rising and standing in respectful silence or following him at a distance. This was very exasperating to Chloe, for he would shake her off with scant ceremony to do honor to his master.

But Chloe had no reverence or respect for anything but a good dinner.

Many were the cuffs she gave poor Watch, which he bore meekly, because he would rise when his master appeared and disturb her sleep.

He was really a refrigerator color. His fur was short and stiff, his ears were large and prominent, drooping, unless something unusual aroused him. Then his interest only lasted for a moment. He would relapse into the stolid, silent dog they all believed him to be. He identified himself with the family, though he did not join in their sports; but he always knew just what was going on, and would follow them at a distance wherever they would go.

His master was his idol. He seemed to live for him alone. His bright, beadlike black eyes were always fixed on his master's face, and he knew every change of expression. His master would say, "Watch is the only one of my children with black eyes; he takes after me." Years after Watch died there were two little black-eyed girls born, but Watch could not enjoy the sight of them.

Chloe was a calico cat, yellow, with patches of dark and white spots.

She was not much prettier than Watch, but the children thought her beautiful and loved her dearly.

Their father had made them a wooden doll, and they were as pleased with it as children of to-day are with the elegant creatures who can open and shut their eyes and squeak out "mamma" and "papa." The children had been brought up to enjoy and believe Bible stories, and they thought the highest honor they could give that doll was to call it by a Bible name.

So, after a discussion, they named it Amminadab, for the very reason that it was very hard to p.r.o.nounce and impossible to understand.

Chloe and Watch were very good friends. To be sure, Watch never dared say his soul was his own in Chloe's presence. Possibly that was the reason they had peace.

Chloe had a very roving disposition. Day after day she would go off into the woods near by, and then Watch would suffer great anxiety. He would go out into the road, and look up and down, and then indulge in a mild bark. He never would go to sleep till she returned, and would meet her with the greatest satisfaction, wagging his short tail and walking around her as if to say, "You _have_ come back, haven't you?" He delighted to see her run up trees, and would look up at her, and bark with pride, never at all jealous of her superiority.

When the children went down to bathe, Watch would attend them as body-guard. They always carried their doll and gave her to Watch to take care of. They would place her on a high rock, while Watch would sit down beside her, with his paws on her dress, to keep her from falling off.

They would say, "Watch, take good care of her," and then they were sure he would never leave her. Chloe did not often go with them, for cats do not like the water as dogs do; but she knew where they were and was very impatient for them to return.

One day when their mother said, "Chloe, where are the children?" she ran down toward the water and back again several times.

Their mother laughed, saying, "Go and bring them home." And sure enough, the children were amused to see Chloe on the rock by Watch's side. She took hold of Amminadab by her dress, and tried to pull her away from Watch. But here she was mistaken in thinking he would give her up. He held his ground. He had been told to guard that doll, and guard her he would. Chloe tugged at her dress, tearing it with her teeth, but he held on. Then she fell upon him, and cuffed and clawed him, while he tried to dodge her all he could; but at one hard blow, in defending himself, he loosened his hold a bit on Amminadab, and Chloe, with one good pull, gained the victory and ran home, dragging the poor doll over the ground, b.u.mping her poor wooden head without mercy. This was too much for Watch.

He ran in pursuit, but his short legs were no match for her long ones, and she reached home, dropping Amminadab on the threshold long before he arrived.

Then ensued a fight to carry her back, and the master, who always took the part of Watch, had to separate them. He took the bone of contention into the house, and that settled it.

They were sincere friends, however, and later on, when poor Watch was unfortunate, the good heart under Chloe's rough exterior was shown.

Watch lost his hearing and then his eyesight, and it was then Chloe came to his aid. She helped him and seemed always to have the care of him on her mind. She hovered around him when carriages drove by, and he, not seeing or hearing them, would sit in their track. She would drag him away by the ear or push him away and share his danger. And he soon followed her slightest touch.

She would often put his food under his nose, for he at last lost even his sense of smell. The sense of feeling he never lost, and would put out his paw, and his poor old heart would beat while he would give forth a cracked and feeble bark when his master touched him--loyal and faithful unto death!

His master could not bear the thought of parting with him, though he knew it must be, for he was in danger of being killed all the time, and, having lost all his senses, he at last refused food, and they were obliged to "put him to rest." Chloe was inconsolable. She wandered about everywhere, searching for him.

One day they saw her lying down on some s.h.i.+ning object. They found it was an old collar belonging to Watch that she had found in the attic.

She fought when they took it away from her; and when they returned it, she carried it out to the barn and put it in the corner where Watch used to lie.

There were warm sunny places he had selected to rest himself in when he grew tired and sick, and Chloe went to every one of his old haunts and made her bed. She attached herself to the master just as Watch had done, and seemed overjoyed if he noticed her. Very soon the sympathy between them in their mutual loss made them real friends. He would talk to her about Watch, and she seemed to understand all he said. It was a real comfort to him.

It is often said that a dog is more companionable than a cat, and has higher intelligence. That is not true. Cats fully understand everything that a dog does; but a dog is trained, and no one but a real cat lover would ever think of training a cat.

Chloe never regained her bright spirits after the death of Watch. She did not wander off into the woods so often, attaching herself more to the children and her home. She followed the children like a shadow. She could play hide-and-seek in and out the pine trees, jumping out on them in real earnest, and was always the first one to find the hiding place.

On the place was a real old-fas.h.i.+oned well. Chloe was very fond of that well, and the bucket was a real friend. Warm days she would lap the drops of water from its sides, for it was like ice water.

One day a kitten belonging to a neighbor mounted on the side of the well and looked down with wonder into the boundless depth. It was a perilous seat. Chloe, not pleased at the kitten's rashness, ran around the well and in every way tried to call her down from her perch; but she was an obstinate little creature and took no notice of Chloe's evident distress. Finding moral suasion of no avail, quick as a flash she flew up, and, taking her by the nape of the neck, deposited her in safety on the gra.s.s, where they had a good romp together; and she never allowed that kitten to go near the well again without her company.

The master would say, "We need not fear for the children; Chloe will never let them approach the well without her company."

It was very funny, one day when the children, returning from a long tramp in the woods, discovered they had left Amminadab behind. There were lamentations loud and long; they were sure they would never again see their dear dolly. Their father asked them if Chloe was with them.

Yes, they said, but they did not notice her coming home. Their father walked out into the road, looking in the direction the children had taken. Soon he espied a small cloud of dust and, as it came nearer, a small yellow object, dragging in its mouth something that r.e.t.a.r.ded its progress very much. Soon poor Chloe arrived and laid Amminadab at the feet of her master. She had walked all the way from the pine woods, dragging that heavy wooden doll by the dress, which bore marks of her teeth, having to shut them tight to bear the strain of that weight. She had to take frequent rests, and Amminadab's head was covered with scratches from the stones she had b.u.mped; but she was all there, and when Chloe laid her on the doorstep, she sat down panting and tired, but with the satisfaction of having done her duty just as Watch would have done.

She was petted and praised. Her master brought her out a nice supper of fried fish, and she was perfectly happy. After she had acknowledged all their thanks, she washed her face (cats never pick their teeth in company) and laid herself down on a rug where Watch had enjoyed lying, and slept "the sleep of the just."

She was faithful to the end. To the last day of her life she would never allow Amminadab to be left out of the house without the children, but, taking her in her mouth, would carry her in to her place in the playroom. She would pick up the children's clothes. If they dropped a ribbon or a bit of paper, she would be sure to pick it up and put it on a chair or sofa.

She died peacefully, and her grave was made by the side of her friend Watch.

It is certain that the family never had truer friends than this dog and cat. They all remember them, and count them with those loved ones of whom it is so comforting to say, "Not lost, but gone before."

XXIII

THE STORY OF BLACKIE

One of our friends boarded in a family where cats were treated in a cruel manner. Often when my mistress visited her, the tales of woe about poor, ill-used cats made her very sad. Cats always found our friend's room, and proved very loving and grateful for her care. She kept them in her room all she could, always feeding them; and as she had her meals sent to her rooms, she had pieces of meat and always a plenty of milk to give them, and they were very thankful; they loved her dearly. She said they were hunted about, and never knew what it was to have a kind word spoken to them.

One nice cat had several kittens that were kept for the little son of the family to abuse. One of them ran away from him, and was jammed into the crack of a door and killed. Another had its back broken under the rockers of a chair; while the boy had the third one by the tail, swinging it about, banging its head against door-steps, till its feeble moans made the neighbors call to him; and as he paid no heed to them, one good-hearted Irish girl rushed out and, with a good shake, took the kitten in, and ended its sufferings in a pail of water. You do not often see a real, true-hearted Irish girl that is cruel to animals.

The mother of that boy never noticed any complaints made to her of her child's cruelty to animals. She allowed him to do as he pleased with his living playthings, regardless of their suffering.

At last the cat ran away or was stolen, and my mistress's friend said she hoped they would never have another.

A little sister had been born, and at an early age developed the same cruel traits that made her brother a terror to all animals. At last, after some months, they had a black kitten given them. She was about six months old, a beautiful black, and she had very sharp claws. Though the boy was obliged to keep away from her,--for she defended herself with her sharp claws,--her life was wretched. The first lesson she learned was to defend herself, and look upon every one as her enemy.

She had not one friend. No one ever spoke a kind word to her, and she was given wretched food and bones, for the boy devoured every sc.r.a.p usually given to a cat. Then she was hunted into the cellar to find rats, and her life was one long punishment. No resting place, no nice corner, or bed to call her own--she was an object of pity indeed.

At last a gleam of light dawned on her darkened life. A mouse had been heard in the room of our friend, and Blackie was sent up to catch it.

She cowered down in one corner, trembling all over, not knowing what would be done to her. When the lady took her on her lap, smoothed her soft fur, she seemed to realize that there was something besides kicks and blows for her. When laid on a soft wool shawl on the lounge, she testified her delight by "kneading up bread" on the shawl with her claws, till she was tired, then purred out her satisfaction, and at last indulged in a good sleep, though starting and trembling at every sound, for cats are all nerves and sensitive in the highest degree. That night she caught a mouse, and after that was allowed to sleep in the room for a long time, and she effectually cleared the place of them.

When she slept downstairs again our friend had given them a box for her to sleep in, with old blanket pieces folded to make her comfortable.

This was to be kept in the pa.s.sageway just out of the kitchen, that she might keep the rats away.

She had got so attached to her friend by this time that she did not relish being out of her room at all, and early in the morning she would be up at the door, crying like a child to be let in, if the door was closed.

It was a very great trial to this kind-hearted lady, for she could not keep Blackie all the time, and knowing she would be away in summer some months, she was very unhappy about leaving Blackie. She tried to interest the people in the house in her, but it was of no use. The mistress of the house hated Blackie, frequently threatening to get rid of her. She dared not offend her boarder, so she contented herself with abuse of the poor cat on the sly. She did not half feed her, but the cat knew where she could always get food, for the kind friend would buy meat for her and feed her well. Blackie turned from them all. She did not believe in any one but her kind friend, so it was impossible to help her.

All the lady could do when she went away was to speak for her to all of the people she could in the house, and to give the servants money to buy meat and to be kind to her. But she always left with a heavy heart.

At last Blackie was to have her first kittens. She, with that rare instinct that cats have at such times, established herself on the lounge in her friend's room, and if not forcibly removed, would ignore her hunger rather than go down in quest of food. She was determined her kittens should be born in luxury and under the care of her kind friend.