Part 1

Transcriber's Note:

Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

THE GREAT SMALL CAT AND OTHERS

THE GREAT SMALL CAT AND OTHERS _Seven Tales_

BY MAY E. SOUTHWORTH

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS AND DECORATED BY PEDRO J. LEMOS

PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO

_Copyright, 1914_ PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY SAN FRANCISCO

IN LOVING MEMORY OF THURSDAY MY OWN

INTRODUCTION

Everyone knows that there are all kinds of people; also there are all kinds of cats, worthy and unworthy. No two are exactly alike, and by those who do not class them in a bunch, but study them as individuals, they are found to have decided characteristics all their own, ever presenting strange surprises in a mixture of the unexpected higher qualities of civilization and the evils of lowest barbarism. The appeal of the kitten is almost universal, as there are few men, women or children, even those who "shudder" at a real cat, who can resist the subtle charm of these fuzzy lumps of playfulness. But cats, the alley cat, your cat, my cat, anybody's cat, all cats are in need of some brave champion, someone who will endeavor to portray their better side and be able to so increase for them the appreciation of mankind that they will come to what is only rightfully their own. Whatever your faith or practice may be touching cats, you are bound to admit that they must surely have some kind of mission here on earth. The trend of modern beneficence shows the day of even the cat is on the way, the day when they shall be better understood, making the world kinder to them in recognizing that these often sadly abused little creatures, have the feelings common to flesh and blood and are times without number, actuated by human thoughts and impulses. Recent years have done much in the way of atonement for persistent error in regard to their nature, by thrusting upon them a balance long their due in the form of many happy literary tributes, proving, in spite of much withering scorn, that environment has much more to do with their lack of worth than has original sin.

The lowly state of the average cat, just tolerated for its usefulness as a natural rat executioner, is unworthy of its better capabilities, and to the heart of a lover of the species, a cruelty. It is companionship which counts the most with cats, and when, instead of being a comfortable family institution as was intended, their nature being of the warmest and most sociable kind, they are mercilessly relegated to the cold cellar or outhouse to battle for life and sustenance, they are more miserable than anyone can imagine who does not know how a cat longs for home life and company. If left in this way to struggle for a meager existence, without a word of kindness, and chased for their very lives if they presume, in their lonely longing, to timidly enter the family refinement, is it a wonder that under these conditions, these dwellers in solitude develop only the worse and uglier traits in their disposition?

Although cats are brimful of human whims and moods and are also very human in their devotion to home, order and cleanliness, they are decidedly slow in attaching themselves to humans and not quick to give them their friendship. Unlike a dog, they maintain a rather haughty independence in the matter of reciprocity, and after they have decided that you are worthy of the honor of their confidence, and they have given it, it can only be retained by constant entreaty and on the strictest terms of obligation, never forced. To know something of the queer brain and really glowing heart beneath the mystery of their graceful furry coats, a heart which they guard almost fiercely against mere "curious" intimacy, it is necessary to make an effort; but as every cat lover knows, they will surely repay such effort in lavish response. And above all, in trying to get acquainted with cats, show them the compliment of companionship which they truly and cordially appreciate, for they, too, are in various ways "also human" and their readiness to respond to intimacy of this kind is a most gratifying surprise to the skeptical.

The cat tails spring up in the hollow But where can their late owners be? The tale of their tails does not follow When cat tails spring up in the hollow. But the stream many secrets must swallow So it may be their ghosts that we see. So when cat tails spring up in the hollow We surmise where their owners may be.

_Thomas Grant Springer_

THE TALES IN THIS BOOK

PAGE

THE GREAT SMALL CAT 3

The tale of the black "stray," whose mother-love and home-love steeled her to repeatedly brave the waters of the dark, swift-flowing river, and how this "bunch hard to beat" overcame the cold heart of the "widow lady" of the ranch.

THURSDAY 27

The orphan foundling, fed from a spoon; her coquettish tyranny over her friend and playmate, a magnificent Irish setter; and the story of her tragic end when answering the home-call.

A MINE, A MINER, AND A CAT 43

The story of the loyal comradeship of the miner and the cat, and of how Puss proved to be the cleverer prospector of the two and discovered the bonanza mine.

AÏDA AND SAADI 61

Twin blue-blooded aristocrats, whose temperamental pranks and mischievous adventures caused startling surprises and frequent shocks; their marauding, murderous transgressions and how they were finally cured.

MAROONED 77

The story of the intense hatred of the shanghaied cat; his dignified aloofness; his "tabasco temper" over the pranks of the sailors; and his final survival of the wreck, from which, after braving the ocean waves, he reached the shore and gained his freedom amid the mystery of the wild.

MAIDA 99

The strange but true story of the Maltese mother-cat who adopted a brood of white rats, and the record of her disciplinary methods in raising and controlling her alien foster-children.

A MEMORY 109

The tale of Jiminy Christmas, a tramp cat, whose wild and vagabond nature caused him to yield, intermittently, to the call of the open, and to leave, unceremoniously, his protected home of plenty and comfort; his last pathetic return.

THE PICTURES IN THIS BOOK

JIMINY CHRISTMAS: HIS FIRST APPEARANCE Frontispiece

He was probably a graceless vagabond, born in the gutter, with no pretensions to breeding or even good looks.

FACING PAGE

THE GREAT SMALL CAT 8

Although the small stray was minus all signs of pedigree, she held her head high and was accorded the respect and good treatment due a lady.

THURSDAY 34

As she never attained the full stature of an ordinary cat, she always looked but half-grown, but was the very perfection of dainty symmetry, her coat a solid black, almost blue in its depths.

THE CAT 52

Handsome, shining and saucy, the kitten had grown into the most splendid bigness of his race: all muscle and nerve, unusually broad of chest and looking as if bred to the mountain fastness and able to endure all sorts of pioneer hardships.

AÏDA AND SAADI 72

"Oh, lady! You do not suspect us of having seen any of your birds this morning?"

MAROONED 84

Neither disappointment nor ugly temper had broken his fierce sense of injury or his indomitable spirit.

MAIDA 102

In long-suffering patience Maida would stretch herself in a streak of sunshine and survey the riotously incorrigible mites, indulging in their favorite pastime of playing tag all over her body.

JIMINY CHRISTMAS, THE FREE SPIRIT 120

Born free, he kept his own wanton will free from enslavement to the end, living his own life in honor and honesty in an out-doors all his own.

THE GREAT SMALL CAT

Once upon a time, a while ago, during pleasant hours spent in the "land of big cows and small horses," I met one of the most modest of black mother cats, but one with such a pathetic experience in her life as to make her stand alone, not as a cat, but as _the_ cat. At any rate, the story as told by the young ranchman is absolutely true and surely worth the telling, if only to prove that cats are singularly human in their love for their offspring, and are all mother in sacrifice and thoughtful care, giving life itself if necessary in unselfish devotion.

The cat was small, bright-eyed and clean but apparently of the most commonplace and ordinary variety, and not distinguished by any special attractiveness as to species. Still, on hearing the "story of her life" as related by this man, one of her most faithful benefactors, of how she cheated fate and battled with fear and death, conquering every natural antipathy, it made one feel that it was an event to meet her. To encounter such a plain unassuming little creature who had given positive proof of harboring in her small head the brain of a diplomat and of being so surprisingly shrewd, and so gloriously fearless, was an incident of such stirring revelation as to make it of marked consequence.

In telling the story, the cattleman said it was partly owing to the accident of the little mother-cat's being black in color that she was here on the ranch in a little corner that she felt was home and that meant happiness to her. There may be in some out-of-the-way corners of the world, people who still believe in magic and folk-lore and with them the fair fame of black cats ever suffers from that benighted superstition of ancient times, that they are creatures of witches and devils. But the more modern belief makes double reparation for this uncanny ignorance by giving them the reputation of not only always bringing good luck in their wake, but lovers as well.

Larry was squatting upon his heels, his broad back leaning carelessly against the "bunk house," while he gazed reminiscently down over his pipe at the modest bunch of black fur neatly snuggled in the dust at his side, all four paws tucked out of sight, when, in Western cameraderie, I coaxed from him the story I had wondered so much about and longed to hear in detail. As he began to tell me about it in the lazy, good-natured, provincial dialect of the plains, one hand strayed caressingly to the head of the "little pard" and lingered there lovingly while he talked and smoked.

"Oh, she's just a small stray that loped in on our range, but y'u can bet ye'r life she's a winner all right and a bunch hard to beat. She's 'just cat,' but there ain't nothing nowhere purtier, and y'u couldn't go out in a whole round-up of felines and rope a gentler one, though she's grit clear through to the backbone."

The "bunch hard to beat" looked up into her friend's face with bright, inquiring eyes, understanding the love and approval in his glance if not the great distinction conferred upon her of being the bright, particular star in the story he was relating.

"Well, y'u see, it's this-a-way," explained Larry, in his pleasant drawl, removing his briar and stiffening his muscles: "Cats is mighty useful things. What would the blamed country be without them anyway?--an' it's no way reasonable that we could run _this_ ranch without this little peacherino. She's just a soft pretty thing, but she's sure got spunk enough for a wild bull. Lordy me! we're just plumb foolish over her, and she don't step on nobody's bunions no more, y'u bet! She ain't that sort. She's so modest and quiet it beats all how good it makes y'u feel just to have her round; a sort of spiritual uplift and missionary 'home sweet home' broke gentle to the gang."

Evidently these men, really manly men, some of them as brown and wrinkled as an old leather shoe, were the little cat's sincere admirers. As I listened to the story, I stole her from the ranchman's hand and gathered her, almost reverently, in my lap, more then as a testimony to the big-heartedness and sterling human qualities of the Western cattlemen, than as the distinguished heroine of the narrative.

It seems that at the noon hour, about the middle of one April, while the men were idly loitering on the shady side of the adobe, waiting for the hour to strike which called them to work again, a dusty, fuzzy little black streak scooted in from the direction of the road and dropped all in a heap, breathless and exhausted, at their feet. The "déboo" of this miserable little stranger had been unannounced and the suddenness of this rather dramatic entrance upon the scene of the unexpected, though tiny débutante, caused quite a flutter among the men, and pipes and cigarettes were hastily laid aside in order that they might look over at close range this "feeble short horn." The bedraggled little "black streak" proved on examination to be the thinnest, most woebegone, footsore, starved and wholly exhausted black kitten ever seen, whose tired legs had been able to carry her just this far--not a step farther could she have gone. She was indeed a pitiful creature, half-dead with fear and fatigue, and in looks so painfully appealing that she waked compassion in even the stoniest heart. Evidently she had traveled far, without food or rest, as she was completely done for. Why she came, or from where, nobody could tell, but probably chased and hunted until absolutely worn out, she had in her extremity ventured into this refuge of humans, taking her chances. To the everlasting honor of these rough ranch hands, their tough bachelor hearts were touched by this helpless, sick-looking little mite of a kitten, and they decided that she was to stay and be made comfortable. Feeling half-ashamed of their compassionate impulse and in order to hide even from one another any unmanly sentiment in the matter, one said:

"H'its powerful good luck to have a black cat hit the camp! I like the color, boys, and have a hunch it'll bring us great; let's rope and brand her for our diggins."

So the "good luck" was not scatted off, but was introduced to the ranch and seemed very grateful for their soft-hearted hospitality. When she had lapped some good warm milk into her vacant stomach she gained sufficient strength to express her satisfaction with what had been "handed out to her," and showed a most beautiful willingness to stay by it.

The "hostess" of this ranch was a large, wide "widow woman," in eloquent vernacular "grass," one of those very capable, hard-working individuals whose precarious temper even when all went well with her, was never to be imposed upon. Her brisk, ponderous tread was a power, real and felt, and not to be trifled with for a moment in any mood. The boys realized that she would be "plumb discouraging" to any scheme for the adoption of this tiny waif, and knew the utter futility of trying to pull her heartstrings in any kind of sympathy for "only a cat." So they turned all their energies into the most guilty, barefaced personal coaxing and cajolery in order to get any kind of concession in her department for this additional feeder. As they expected, she was about as responsive as a Chinese Joss and as hard as a stone to any possible allurements the kitten might develop as a home-maker, and the very most they could gain from the "old grouch" was a grudging consent to just "let her stay round till some other place can be found for her."

"And her face wasn't a mite smiling or even friendly as she said it." So the poor little kitten, being only on sufferance, accepted such crusts of charity as came her way, and was mighty grateful; for she was very hungry, very weary, and good food had long been a strange thing in her small stomach. It was plain the kitten had never known anything of home or a fireside and was simply of the humble garden variety of cat. Yet she was not an outcast or a tramp by nature, for she proved very quick to fall into ways which contributed to the cosiness of the cabin kitchen, even with the scant encouragement she received. The feminine eternal heart-throb of home-making was certainly there in her breast, for just like "other folks" she took her allotted place in the corner back of the big stove and was singularly human in the snug enjoyment of the comfort of it.

In the cattle country the one momentary lull in affairs is when the day's work is over and night has settled down over the lonesome miles of ranch and the men are all gathered in a circle round the open fire. In this good-fellowship under the big stars one night, they fell to discussing their little black protégée, and the permission they had to only "let her stay round." As they were almost maternally solicitous that she should have a permanent home with them, they decided that as her sponsors they were in a way responsible and had better get busy at once and attend to her serious education, laying out the details of her conduct on a straight and narrow path of duty.

Larry was the one selected to "break her gentle," and at his very first opportunity was requested to "do the decent" and to start her off with a strictly private and business tip, speaking for the whole outfit. In recalling this incident in the game, Larry's big laugh rang out until he wiped the tears away with a corner of the gay bandanna knotted about his neck.

"I took this tenderfoot aside," he said, "and gave it to her personally and straight, y'u bet. Come here, pard, says I, I've got to give it to y'u private and special. We want y'u to camp in this yere diggins for always, but, if y'u get a chance to stay, y'u've got to conduct yereself decorus. This yere is a bachelor round-up with one skirt that's the big boss of the whole outfit. What she says goes and y'u want to get that into yere system from the start-off. We want to give y'u a square deal with no superfluous language, but She's the cinch and y'll get what's coming to y'u, all right, if y'u don't go cautious."

The recounter said that the very grave and polite way the kitten took this "rounding-up spiritually" was killing, solemnly looking him straight in the eye with painful concentration, her little nose in nervous crinkles. Larry confessed that the big effort this small vagrant made "to get the drift" of what he was trying to impress on her mind, made him feel like a huge brute. Anyway, by some trick of his slow, delicious drawl, the timely warning "sunk in" and found a responsive chord in her consciousness. In some way she fathomed his friendly intention and understood, at least, the magic timbre of his soothing voice which flashed back entire confidence and drew to him a friend, one who was infinitely shy, but one who would trust him absolutely while life lasted.

These paternal young cowmen, having delivered their souls of this religious act of discipline, "pulled the stake" and let her go free. By the time the days of kittenhood had passed the "stray" had grown plump and her coat glossy, and although minus all signs of pedigree, she held her head high and had acquired a certain modest dignity, sufficient to deceive a layman and to insure the respect and good treatment due a lady. Evidently she had been careful to mind the warning and was conducting herself "decorus." In return for their hospitality she attended to her part of the ranch business by keeping the cabin and pantry strictly clear of all rats and mice. Occasionally she gave chase to the wild things good for cats, and at milking time, if she happened to "hang round," the men were sure to give her a fine dessert of warm milk. As the days and weeks went happily by for her, she unobtrusively arranged her life to suit the pleasant place she had fallen into, gaining an honest living by her skill, with a few luxuries thrown in at unexpected intervals by the men, who would forget her for days at a time, owing to her modest way of keeping in the background. If on some lean and hungry days, when hunting had not been so successful, she would sometimes wistfully sniff, with eager, yearning stomach and longing, though decently distant eyes, the bountiful, savory mess of the kitchen, or venture to rub too coaxingly near the bustling form juggling the pots and pans with energetic vehemence, she was soon made to understand that she had overstepped the bounds of her tolerance, in trespassing on the particular domain of one who just endured her unwelcome presence. Being feminine and an unusually sensible and peaceable cat, she soon developed a surprising acuteness in diplomacy and in warding off unnecessary trouble. After various mortifying experiences she found it best to be "only handy" at such times as the feasts were in progress, creeping most cautiously in, a-tiptoe on her soft noiseless pads, just to be there in case any tidbits _should_ come her way.

All might have been well, and life a long holiday, leading her in pleasant ways to the end, had she not erred, and so innocently and blindly erred. Of course it was scandalous, if natural, and not to be tolerated for one moment by the already much overburdened landlady. The downfall came as a terribly stiff jolt to poor kitty, for her heart had swelled with guiltless pride over her sin and its achievement.

One sad Sunday morning she was discovered in her cosy corner, a very picture of innocent content over the beautiful surprise she had created for the family. There she lay with her eyes half-closed, softly beaming in rapture on six very small, newly born infants at her breasts. As she was "discovered" she looked up in her delirium of happiness with a hesitating, half-apologetic sort of smile, as one longing for, yet meeting, no response. Her anxiety was so exactly human that no one could mistake her meaning or her little weak smile of hesitating conciliation. But it froze in a flash when with frightened dismay she heard the hustling housewife's loud and angry denunciation of "the march that hussy had stolen on us," and the sentence of "immediate death" or "transportation" pronounced on "her and her brood," in stentorian and not-to-be-trifled-with tones.