Mouser Cat's Story Part 1

Mouser Cats' Story.

by Amy Prentice.

On that day last week when it stormed so very hard, your Aunt Amy was feeling very lonely, because all of her men and women friends in the house were busy, and it was not reasonable to suppose any of her bird or animal acquaintances would be out. As she sat by the window, watching the little streams of water as they ran down the gla.s.s, she said to herself that this was one of the days when she could not hope to be entertained by story-telling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Mouser Cat.]

"You don't seem to care whether Mrs. Man makes the pickles properly, or not," a voice from the doorway said, and, looking around in surprise, your Aunt Amy saw Mrs. Mouser Cat, an animal with whom she was very well acquainted, but who had never before ventured to speak with her.

Considerably astonished, because it had not come into her mind that Mrs.

Mouser might prove to be as entertaining as any of the other animals she had talked with, your Aunt Amy asked:

"What about the pickles, Mrs. Mouser?"

"Why, Mrs. Man is putting them up; didn't you know it?" the cat replied, and your Aunt Amy said with a sigh:

"Oh, yes indeed, Mrs. Mouser, I know that, and you also know it is not possible for me to do any work around the house, owing to my illness.

That is why I am idle on this day when the storm makes it seem very, very lonely.

"You can sit out of doors all the afternoon with a foolish old duck, or talk by the hour with Mr. Turtle, who hasn't got sense enough to go in when it rains, and yet you never invited me for an afternoon's story-telling," and Mrs. Mouser arched her back as if she was angry.

"Do you know any stories?" your Aunt Amy asked, surprised again, and Mrs. Mouser replied quickly:

"It would be funny if I didn't. I've lived on this farm more than six years, and have known pretty much all that has happened around here in that time."

WHY CATS CATCH MICE.

"I wish you could think of a story to tell me now," your Aunt Amy said.

"I am just in the mood for hearing one."

"It is the hardest thing in the world to stand up and begin telling a story without anything to start one going," Mrs. Mouser said thoughtfully, as she brushed her whiskers with her paw. "After you once get into it, of course, they come easy enough. How would it do if I should explain why it is that cats catch mice?"

"Was there ever a time when they didn't catch mice?" your Aunt Amy asked, surprised for the third time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. p.u.s.s.y Cat Visits her Cousin]

"Oh, yes indeed," Mrs. Mouser said in a matter-of-fact tone. "All cats used to be good friends with the mice, once upon a time, and it happened that because an old Mrs. p.u.s.s.y, who lived in the city, didn't have anything in the house to eat, the cats took up catching mice. You see it was in this way: A cat that had always lived in the country, made up her mind one day to go and see her cousin in the city, so she put on her bonnet and shawl, wrapped some fried fish in a paper, and started.

"When she got there her cousin saw the fish, and it made her ashamed because she hadn't anything in the house to offer the visitor, so she asked, turning up her nose considerably:

"Do you cats in the country eat fish?' and Mrs. p.u.s.s.y replied:

"Why, yes, of course we do; don't you?"

"Certainly not; it is thought to be a sign of ill-breeding to eat such vulgar food,' and then remembering that she could not offer her cousin the least little thing, she said, never stopping to think very much about it. We eat mice here. They are delicious; you would be surprised to know what a delicate flavor they have."

That surprised the country cousin, and nothing would do but that she must go right out hunting for mice. Of course some one had to go with her, and then it was that the city cat found she hadn't made any such a very great mistake after all, for mice or rats, take them any way you please, cooked or raw, are very nice indeed.

THE KITTY WHICH THE SNOW BROUGHT.

"Do you think that is a true story?" your Aunt Amy asked, and Mrs.

Mouser replied:

"I can't really say; but I think it is as true as that the snow brought a white cat to Dolly Man." Your Aunt Amy knew Miss Dolly's kitten very well; but she had never heard any such thing as Mrs. Mouser intimated, therefore, as a matter of course, she was curious regarding the affair, and asked that it be explained to her.

"I was in the house when this happened, so there is no mistake about the story part of it," Mrs. Mouser began. "It was snowing one day, and Dolly, standing by the window, said to her mother that she wished the snow-flakes would turn into a pretty, little, white kitten, so she could have something to play with. She hadn't hardly more than spoken, when they heard a cat calling from out of doors, and Dolly ran into the hallway, believing the snow-flakes had really turned into a pet for her.

Now it is kind of odd, but true just the same, that when she opened the door there stood a white kitten, the same one we call Kitty Snow.

"She was the forlornest little stray kitten you could ever imagine, and as white then as she is now, from her nose to the tip of her tail, but so nearly frozen when Dolly took her in, that they had to wrap her in a blanket, and keep her near the fire two or three hours before she thawed out."

"I believe that you and Kitty Snow are not very good friends," your Aunt Amy said.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Dolly and Kitty Snow.]

"Well, I can't say that we are," Mrs. Mouser replied thoughtfully. "That white cat has been petted so much that she really isn't of any very great service about the house. I don't believe she has caught a mouse in six months, and yet I heard her tell Mr. Towser Dog no longer ago than yesterday, that she was of more value around this farm than I. Just think of it! And it has been proven that I have a good deal more sense than Mr. Fox, cunning as he thinks he is."

WHEN MR. FOX WAS FOOLISH.

As a matter of course, your Aunt Amy asked her what she meant, and Mrs.

Mouser sat down at one side of the fireplace, as if making ready for an afternoon of story-telling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Mouser Flatters Mr. Fox.]

"It was like this;" she said. "I was down in the meadow looking for field mice one day, and met Mr. Fox. You know some animals think that he and I are relations; but whether we are or not, we have always been good friends. So he sat down for a chat, and we talked of first this thing and then that, until finally I said, just to make myself agreeable:

"'Do you know, Mr. Fox, I think you are very smart.'

"Well now, would you believe it, that puffed him way up with pride, and he said, grinning in a way that was enough to make any cat laugh:

"'Indeed I am, Mrs. Mouser. There isn't an animal around here who can hold a candle to me for smartness.'

"'What about the dogs?' I asked, thinking to joke him a little, and he turned up his nose as he said:

"'I don't give a snap of my claws for all the dogs there are around this place! Even if four or five of them should come right up here this minute, it wouldn't bother me any. You may not think it; but Mr. Towser is actually afraid of me.

"Well now, do you know that made me laugh again, because in the first place I knew it wasn't true; but what was the use of saying anything of the kind to him? He was swelled way out with pride, so I changed the conversation, and began talking about mice, when suddenly there was a terrible commotion down the lane, and up came Mr. Towser, Miss Spaniel and four or five other dogs, barking and yelping.