Chapter 1

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TRUE STORIES ABOUT DOGS AND CATS

BY

MRS. FOLLEN

With Illustrations by Billings

TRUE STORIES ABOUT DOGS AND CATS.

In a pretty, quiet village in New England lived Mary Chilton. She was a widow. She had two sons; and it was the occupation and the happiness of her life to do all she could to make her boys good and happy. I should say to help and teach them to be good and happy; for boys and girls must make themselves good; and then, of course, they will be happy; and no one can be made good or happy against his will.

I hear some boy or girl who reads this say, "How old were they, and what were their names?" No boy can get along with another boy till he knows his name and age, and so, that you may be sure that they were real, live boys, I will tell you these important facts. The eldest was called Frank, and was nine years old. His brother was called Harry, and was seven. They were very much like other boys, somewhat disposed to have their own way in every thing, and a little vexed when they could not do as they pleased; sometimes really wishing to do right, and be obedient, and make their mother happy.

The little fellows were fond of saying to their mother that when they grew bigger they should take care of her; and the idea that she depended upon them for her happiness often made them stop and think when they were disposed to do a wrong thing.

When Harry said to Frank, "Mother will be so sorry if we do it," Frank would stop and think, and that was enough.

Stop and think. Grand words, and worth attending to. I believe that, if boys and girls would only keep these words well in mind, there would be only a small number of really naughty children.

It was a custom with this good and faithful mother to have a little talk with her boys, every night before their bed time, of what had passed during the day. Sometimes she told them stories, sometimes they repeated poetry.

The hours they passed in this way were the happiest in the whole day. Some of their twilight talks and stories Mrs. Chilton wrote down, thinking they might amuse some little cousins, who lived at a distance. Perhaps some other little boys and girls may like to hear them too.

One evening, early in November, when tea was over, and the tea things were removed; when the nice hearth was swept clean, and the great wood fire was blazing brightly, and sending forth its cheering light and heat through the whole room, Frank and Harry had taken their accustomed places, one on each side of their mother who was sitting on the old-fashioned sofa. Each one appropriated a hand to himself, when they both, almost in the same breath, said to her, "You promised us, Mother, if we were good boys, to tell us a story this evening. Now, have we not been good boys all day?"

"Yes, you have," she replied; "you have not quarrelled, and you have got your lessons well; and I will gladly perform my promise. But I hardly know whether I can remember or make up any story to tell you. However, I will do my best. What sort of a story will you have?"

"I," said Frank, "should like a real good true story about a dog, or any other animal."

"And I like a made-up story best," said Harry.

"I have an anecdote of a dog for you, Frank, which a friend related to me the other day, and which I determined to remember to tell you, as I recollected your love for dogs. The lady who told me the story is an English woman. She was in the place where the thing happened, at the very time, and knew the dog and his master.

An English gentleman had a small dog, I think a terrier; he took it with him across the English Channel to Calais which, you know, is in France. He had business there, and remained some time. One day his poor little dog was severely treated by a French dog, much larger than himself.

The little terrier knew that he could not punish the big French dog. For some days you might see him with his head hanging down as well as his tail, and a most melancholy expression in his face. At last, he disappeared. His master, who was very fond of him, made every inquiry after him. In vain--his little four-footed friend was nowhere to be found.

One day, not long after, in walked the terrier, bringing with him a dog much larger than himself. He and his big friend looked very busy and important, as if they had on hand some weighty affair to transact. They showed how seriously they were cogitating, by curling up their tails even more than common.

The terrier, after receiving gratefully his master's caresses, and taking care that his great friend should receive his full share of the food which was given them, led the way, through the court yard, to the front of the house. There they took their place, and sat for a long time, looking as solemn as two judges hearing a cause, or two deacons at church watching some troublesome boys.

It seems the little terrier had been to England, and told of the bad treatment he had received from the large French dog, and had brought over a great dog friend to avenge the insult.

Patiently they sat for some time, looking up street.

At length, the terrier began to prick up his ears, and, in dog language, he told his big friend that the enemy was approaching. They waited quietly till he was near them, and then they both sprang upon the cowardly fellow, gave him a good drubbing, and sent him off with his tail between his legs.

After this, the big English dog, without looking round to see what they did, and said, and how they looked in France, wagging his tail with great satisfaction, and perhaps saying to the little dog that he could not understand French, and pitied him for having a master who could endure living in a foreign land, especially France, his dogship walked aboard a packet, and, with a solemn face and self-satisfied, triumphant air, without paying his passage, and with his tail turned towards France and the ship's company, placed himself in the forward part of the vessel, and so returned to his native land."

"Hurrah for dogs!" cried Harry, clapping his hands. "I say they are as good as men any day. They say, Mother, that the Indians believe their dogs will go to heaven with them. Will they, Mother?"

"We know nothing of the future state of animals, Harry. We only know that they are more gentle and intelligent the more kind we are to them. The most savage animals are tamed by constant kindness. Who does not remember Sir Walter Scott's pet pig? The reason why the pig was so fond of his master was that Sir Walter had not treated him piggishly, but humanely.

You have been told of Baron Trenck's spider. Men have had pet lions and tigers. When I see a fine, gentle horse, or an intelligent, loving dog, I find myself repeating Miss Barrett's beautiful words,--

"Be my benediction said With my hand upon thy head, Gentle fellow-creature."

Now I have a funny story for you of a dog and a hen which a friend told me that she knew to be true.

A small dog had a litter of puppies in a barn close by a hen who was sitting on her eggs, waiting patiently, as hens do, for the time when her chickens should pop their pretty heads out of their shells into this pleasant world.

The puppies, however, came first, and, as soon as they were born, she left her nest, and insisted upon brooding them.

The little dog, no doubt, thought her very impertinent, and barked at her, and tried to drive her away; but she would not go. They had always been good friends, and the dog was unwilling to hurt her; and so Mrs. Dog, after showing, in every way, her desire to get rid of her troublesome acquaintance, and finding that Madame Hen would not budge one inch, let her alone.

From that time, the hen brooded the puppies. She let their mother suckle them, but the rest of the time took charge of them. The poor dog mother felt cheated, but she went off and amused herself as well as she could.

The poor chickens never showed their heads outside of their little oval prison, for they missed the gentle warmth of their unnatural mother's wings."

"She was a real funny hen," said Frank; "but she could not have had much brains, not even so much as common hens, and that's little enough; but, as for the dog, she must be as lazy as Dick Doolittle, to be willing to have such a stupid nursery woman as a hen take care of her own puppies. Dick lets Tom Jones do all his sums for him, but then he never hides it, so we only laugh at him. He says, What's the use of being named Doolittle and yet have to do much?

But, Mother, it is not bed time yet. Have you not some more stories of animals?"

"Yes, Frank; but Harry wants his story now. It is his turn to choose."

"I can wait till to-morrow evening," said Harry; "and I like the dog and hen stories very much."

"Harry shall have his turn, then, to-morrow," said Mrs. Chilton; "and I will tell you some more stories of dogs, for I now remember some more that are perfectly true.

You never know how intelligent an animal is till you treat it with kindness. All animals are easily frightened by human beings, and fear makes them stupid. Children naturally love animals, but sometimes a foolish boy loves to show his power over them, and so learns to be cruel.

A little boy of my acquaintance, when he was told that he might ask some friends to pass his birthday with him, and was asked who should be invited, named over all the dogs in the neighborhood, and was much grieved when his choice was greeted with laughter.

I have seen a little fellow of three years of age with his hand in the mouth of a large, hungry dog, trying to get a piece of bread out of it, and the dog not resenting the liberty at all, but merely trying to retain his share of the bread, and allowing the child to take a part.

We all know that dogs have chosen to die upon the graves of their masters, refusing food even when it was brought to them. We look at such animals as if we saw in them an angel in prison. We feel as if such a nature could not die.

There is no doubt that dogs understand language. My friend, Mr. S. P. Miles, who was remarkable for his tender love for animals, as well as for many other noble and lovely qualities, told me some remarkable facts which came under his own personal observation, and which I am, therefore, sure are true, showing that intelligent dogs understand language.

He said that in his father's house was an old dog, to whom they were much attached, who however became liable to fits. The dog was very fond of hunting, and the moment he saw any one take the gun, to go into the woods, he would show his ecstasy by leaping about.

Mr. Miles's mother one day, when caressing the dog and lamenting that he was subject to these fits, told her son that he had better shoot him the next time that he went out hunting with him. A few days after, Mr. Miles went hunting; but the moment he reached up for his gun, which was laid up on hooks in the wall, the dog, instead of showing joy by jumping about, ran directly to the good lady who had condemned him to death, got under the table at which she was sitting, looked up in her face, and would not move from that place. Never after could the poor fellow be induced to go out with any one who had a gun in his hand.

The same friend told me of a still more remarkable instance of intelligence in a dog, though I confess it does not prove that this dog had much conscience.

Mr. Miles said that he knew the man who owned the dog, and knew the truth of the whole story. He said that a neighbor had an uncommonly fine dog, well trained, and, as it seemed, perfect in all things.

One day, a man came and complained that the dog killed his sheep. The owner said he was sure that it was impossible. Hero was so well trained, he was always in his kennel at the right hour, and he knew that he must not kill sheep. After a while, the neighbor came again with the accusation. The dog was then tied in the barn. The man came again with the same charge against the dog.

Hero's master now told the accuser that the dog was tied in the barn on the very night when the sheep were killed. He now made much of his dumb favorite from the feeling that he was unjustly suspected.

He was, however, much surprised when the owner of the sheep came again and declared that he had seen his dog kill a sheep that very night; that he knew the dog, and was sure of the fact. He, of course, thought he must be mistaken; but said he would watch the dog. He did so.

At a certain hour of the night, when the dog supposed no one saw him, the cunning fellow put up his two fore paws, pushed off the collar to which a chain was attached, darted through the open window close by, and made for the sheep pasture. He returned in good season, put his nose into his collar, pushed it down into its place with his paws, and lay down to sleep.

The master returned to his bed with the painful conviction that he must kill his intelligent but unprincipled four-footed friend. It is said nothing will cure a dog of the habit of sheep killing.

In the morning the sorrowful master went to the stable. As he approached, he said, "O, Hero, how could you do so wrong? I must have you killed." Quick as thought, the dog pushed his collar over his ears, darted through the window, and flew like lightning away. No one in that town ever saw him again.

Mr. Miles told me also that he knew a dog that would carry letters to persons when told their names; and that no one dared touch the letter but the person to whom it was directed. No bribe, no coaxing would induce him to stop when going on these errands. If other dogs annoyed him, he would not notice them, but run the faster, and take care to chastise them at another time.

Creatures that show such intelligence, who can understand our language, and are capable of what is best in our nature, that is, of self-forgetting love, should be treated with the greatest tenderness. We know not what they may be capable of till we have tried the influence of constant justice and kindness. It is questionable whether poor Hero could have been cured of his fault. But I would give all a chance."

"I should like to have Hero for my dog," said Frank, "and live with him in a place where there were no sheep; and then, after many years, he might forget his bad tricks."

"I must say something in favor of the much-abused cat. Doubtless she would be a much better member of society, if she were better treated, if she had a better example set before her.

Sportsmen are very angry because she catches birds, and because she is sly. They will themselves lie down in the grass so that the birds may not see them, and be as sly as the very slyest old puss, and yet they cannot forgive her for watching noiselessly for birds. Has not she as good a right as any sportsman to a little game? She takes only what she wants to eat. She does not kill them in order to boast to another cat of how many she has bagged.

They say she must be bad, for she kills singing birds. Do not sportsmen kill larks and thrushes? Were you once to see a lark rising up into the blue sky higher and higher, and hear him singing as he rises louder and louder, as if he saw heaven opening, and wanted to tell you how beautiful it was, and call you up there; and then to think of killing and eating him, you would say, What cat can be so unfeeling as a man? Who, with any music in his soul, could do so? Yet men do eat larks for dinner, and then scold at the poor cat who treats herself with only one perhaps. Why should she not be a little dainty? Men, women, and hoys and girls are often cruel and unreasonable, not merely cats. The cat is as good as she knows how to be."

"So you are, pussy," said Harry, taking up his pet cat in his lap, and stroking her. "You never do any harm, but catch the mice in our mother's barn. But you are a little sly, and, if you should catch birds, right or wrong, I'm afraid I should box your ears. You must learn to do without birds for your dinner."

"When I was in England," said Mrs. Chilton, "I saw, exhibited in a cage about five feet square, rats, mice, cats and dogs, a hawk, a guinea pig, a rabbit, some pigeons, an owl and some little birds, all together, as amiable and merry as possible. Miss Puss sat in the midst, purring. The others ran over her, or flew upon her head. She had no thought of hurting them, and they were not afraid of her.

I found, on inquiring, that the way the keeper establishes such peace and harmony is by systematic and constant gentleness, and by keeping the animals all well fed. They are called the happy family.

The cage was always surrounded by a crowd of people curious to see such natural enemies so happy together. Nothing but the law of kindness could make all those creatures so civil and well behaved to each other. But I must not forget my anecdotes of that respectable animal, the cat.

You need not smile; I mean to make you respect, as well as love cats. There are some men, and many boys who say they are domestic tigers, that they are sly, that they steal, that you cannot trust them; that the cat heart is bad, and that there is no harm in boys' teasing them, since it is no more than cats deserve; that they were made for us to plague; and that the only good thing they do is to catch rats and mice.

Now, if this were true, and they were really ever so bad, they ought never to be treated cruelly, never teased and tormented. None but the meanest boy will ever torment any animal.

He who created us created also the little fly that crawls upon the window pane. I am not now thinking of those boys who do not remember, or have never learned this truth, but of those who have a cruel prejudice against cats, of those who are kind to dogs and horses, but unkind to cats. I shall speak to you of the poor cat with almost as much respect and seriousness as if I were talking about any of my fellow- creatures who were injured and ill treated.

We take it for granted that cats have no love in them, and so we never act towards them as if they had any; now I believe they have, on the whole, pretty good hearts, and, if they were treated with justice and kindness, would be far more respectable members of society than they are. To show this I will mention some facts of which I have heard, and, some which I have witnessed.

In the first place, the cat is accused of never caring for the inhabitants of a house, but only for the house itself. Now I knew an affectionate cat who manifested much disturbance when the family were making preparations for moving; at last, all was gone from the house except herself and the cook. The cook, in order to make sure that the cat should not escape from the carriage on the way, put her into a cage and fastened her in.

When they arrived, the cat walked quietly out of her cage, looked at her old friend the cook, went into another room where she met another friend, and began forthwith to purr her satisfaction.

Two years afterwards, this family moved again. As soon as the cat saw the preparations making for moving, she showed great uneasiness, and went down into the cellar, where she remained during all the confusion.

When all else was gone, the cook went to the cellar stairs, and called her. The cat came up directly. The cook stroked her, and showed her a basket just big enough to hold her, and said, "Get in, get in, pussy, and take a pretty ride!" The cat got in, and, without the least resistance, allowed herself to be shut into the basket by a cloth tied over it. As soon as she saw the different members of the family in the new house, she manifested her contentment.

In six months the family moved again. The cat again submitted herself, and showed her preference to her friends over their house.

A cat has been known to nurse and bring up a rat with her own kittens. I once took a little rabbit who was starving to death from the neglect of its own mother, and placed it before the same cat who preferred the people to the house. She had just come from nursing her kittens, and when she saw the little trembling rabbit before her, her first thought was, evidently to make a good meal of it. I took up the little thing and caressed it, and then put it down again. She now approached it in a motherly way, and looked at it; its ears seemed evidently to puzzle her. After a while, she tried to take it up as she did her kittens, but saw she could not safely; then she went to her nest and mewed, and then came to me and rubbed herself against me; and then went to the rabbit and licked it tenderly; I now ventured to put the rabbit in with her kittens, and she nursed, and took the best care of it.

A friend of mine who killed a squirrel not knowing that she had young ones, took all the little squirrels, brought them into the house, and put them before his pet cat who had lost all her kittens but one. Pussy looked at them for a while; probably her cattish nature thought a little of eating them; but her better nature soon prevailed, for she took them, one after another, and carried them all to her nest, and proved a faithful nursing mother to them, and ere long there was no part of the house in which the old cat and her roguish adopted children were not to be found.

What will not cats submit to from a loving child? I have seen a child lie down with a cat for its pillow, and the cat merely move herself a little, so as to bear the weight as easily as possible.

A cat can be taught to stand and walk on her hind legs, which seems at first very disagreeable to her.

I remember, when I was a child, seeing a Maltese cat come in every morning and wait till my father had finished his breakfast, then, at a certain signal, rise up on her hind legs, and beg for her breakfast, and take just what was given her with the utmost propriety, asking for nothing more.

I will tell you a well-authenticated anecdote which I read the other day. A cat had been brought up in close friendship with a bird. Now birds, you know, are the favorite food of cats. One day she was seen suddenly to seize and hold in her claws her feathered companion who happened to be out of the cage.

The first thought of those who saw her was that, at last, her tiger nature had come out, and that she was going to make a meal of her little trusting friend; but all the cat did was to hold the trembling bird still, and, on looking around the room, it was discovered that another cat had come in, and that catching the bird was only the means the friendly cat used to keep it safe till the intruder should leave the room. As soon as the other cat was gone, she let go the bird, who it was found was not in the least hurt.

A cat who had been petted and always kindly treated by a family of children, was present one day when the mother thought it necessary to strike one of them for some bad action; the cat flew violently at the mother and tried to scratch her, and from that time she never could strike one of the children with impunity in the presence of their faithful, loving friend.

A friend related to me that they had a cat in her father's family who was a great favorite, and who was particularly fond of the baby; that one day this child was very fretful, and sat for a long time on the floor crying, and that nothing would pacify her.

The cat was by her side on the floor, and finding herself not noticed, and perhaps wearied at the noise, she suddenly stood up on her hind legs and boxed the child's ears in exactly the same way in which she was in the habit of boxing her kitten's.

It seems that this cat was not so amiable as the other, and did not object to giving a box on the ear to a naughty child.

I have another story from a good authority which is still more in favor of poor pussy, and puts her upon a par with the most faithful dog.