Daisy: the autobiography of a catSwan, Miranda Eliot
General
Daisy: the autobiography of a cat
Swan, Miranda Eliot
Cats -- Fiction
"Dr. L., as you well know, is a classmate of the man to whom you are
engaged. And as he was a frequent visitor at your home, and a great
friend of your aunt, you will know there is no appeal against his
report. He returned from Germany last week, and when he asked my sister
regarding news of his old friends, she spoke of your engagement.
"'Impossible,' he exclaimed, 'of all things this is the most
unaccountable.'
"'Why?' said my sister; 'they are very fond of each other, and you are
not so shabby, because you have broken with him, to grudge him his
happiness, for he is devoted to her. You will admit it is a good match.'
"'Yes,' he said, 'so it looks to the world, but he never ought to marry
her.'
"Then he changed the subject, though my sister tried to get at his
reason for speaking in this manner. After she left us, I at once
insisted on an explanation. Then to my horror and disgust I heard this
fearful story.
"My cousin said: 'You know my love of animals and my opposition to
vivisection. I have never allowed myself to listen to or assist in any
act of this nature. You know my intimacy with Dr. G., and I never for
one moment suspected him of the cruelty of which I proved him guilty.
"'Visiting Alice M. so often, I knew all her feelings in regard to
animals, and I knew that her love for cats was the master passion of her
life. Her last pet was a beautiful little kitten. You surely remember
it? She called it Little Blossom.
"'One evening I called on her and learned from the servant that Miss
Alice had been ill for some days.
"'On my way home I had to pass Dr. G.'s office, and as I had some
business with him, I thought I would call. I found him very busy. Two
young students were waiting to accompany him to the classroom. He
invited me to go with them, saying, "We have a most interesting subject
to-night." I never thought to ask the nature of the study, and finding
an old friend in the outer room, I remained talking with him.
"'Soon cries the most agonizing came from the next room, and my friend,
an old physician said: "This is hellish work! G. is a fiend when he is
at it. I must go and prevent all the cruelty I can."
"'Some power stronger than my own will made me follow him. Dr. G. was
the actor in one of the cruellest cases of vivisection. A lovely little
kitten about eight months old, a pet kitten evidently, he was torturing,
without the least pretence of anæsthetic. Its cries were fearful, but
there was no release for it. I cried to him to give it something to
deaden the pain, but he was deaf to my request. If ever a man's face was
transformed to that of a demon, it was that man's.
"'Two of the students, to their credit be it said, turned away sick and
faint, while one of them, Willard C. cried out, "My God! it is Alice
M.'s pet, Little Blossom."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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