Daisy: the autobiography of a catSwan, Miranda Eliot
General
Daisy: the autobiography of a cat
Swan, Miranda Eliot
Cats -- Fiction
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.
Her friend did not fail her. She provided a nice box, all lined and made
soft inside; and although she could not have it in her room, she went
down every night to see that Blackie was made comfortable.
Poor Blackie! She had a determined will, and escaped from her box the
night her kittens were born, and got up to her friend's door, where she
cried, and then lay down as near the door as she could, and bore her
pains in silence, like the patient creature she was.
As soon as morning came she was carried down and put in her nice box
with the seven little kittens she had borne. Her friend took care that
they disposed of them humanely, keeping only one. Blackie never rested
till she brought up that kitten and laid it in a large chair; then she
felt relieved. She would take it up the two flights of stairs, then put
it down at her friend's door, while she mewed and scratched till it was
opened to her. She was very happy with her dear little kitten, and truly
it was a lovely little creature--a real tiger-striped gray.
Blackie was perfectly at home; she cast off the care of her kitten, and
rested and got up her strength in this peaceful element. She had avoided
the boy tyrant and hid her kitten away from him, and his mother dared
not help him find it, fearing Blackie's friend.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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