One of the most remarkable things about the Cat is its habit of always burying its excrement, whether solid or liquid. A Cat living in the house is easily trained to leave the premises for this purpose, and will always be found to cover her droppings with earth; but even young, untrained Cats of dirty habits, who cannot be kept from occasionally defiling the house, will invariably try to hide their sin by scraping up cinders, &c., over it, or will, at any rate, make vigorous scratches at the carpet, in their endeavours to get up some of it for the same purpose. How a habit of this sort can have originated in an animal living in the woods, as do all the Cats when in a wild state, is a puzzle. Like most of the Carnivora, the Cat is a tender and affectionate mother; the care with which she trains her young ones, her anxiety for their comfort, her industry in washing them, are too well known to require remark. So fond is she of her offspring that she will entirely alter her usual habits to regain lost ones. Mr. Hugh Miller, F.G.S., tells us of a Cat belonging to a clergyman in Northumberland, whose kittens were taken from her and given to a miller living at a distance of fully two miles, quite beyond the usual walk of a home-loving puss. The mother, however, although she had never been to the place before, and could by no possibility have known where her kittens were taken, made two successive journeys to the mill, each time bringing back in triumph to the rectory one of her dear ones. So strong is the maternal instinct in the Cat that she will, if deprived of her own offspring, bestow her affections on animals of a totally different species, on creatures even, which, under ordinary circumstances, she would look upon as her natural and lawful prey. The following is a remarkable instance of this overpowering mother-love:-- “My friend had a little helpless Leveret brought to him, which the servants fed with milk in a spoon, and about the same time his Cat had kittens, which were despatched and buried. The Hare was soon lost, and was supposed to be gone the way of most foundlings, to be killed by some Dog or Cat. However, in about a fortnight, as the master was sitting in his garden in the dusk of evening, he observed his Cat, with tail erect, trotting towards him, and calling, with little, short, inward notes of complacency, such as they use towards their kittens, and something gambolling after, which proved to be the Leveret that the Cat had supported with her milk, and continued to support with great affection.”[51]