INTRODUCTION.
I was about to address my readers with the usual phrase, that "at therequest of friends" I had collected the scattered memorials of the chiefevents of my life, and now presented them to the reading world, in thehope that some lesson might be learnt from them, which could be usefulto the inexperienced when similarly situated. But I will be more candid,and say rather, that "to please myself" I have put into a complete formthe recollections in question; not however without the wish that theymay prove of service to Cat, ay, and to Dog, and other kind. There neverwas a life spent in this world but that its history could teach alesson; for, though every life has peculiarities of its own, and may bevaried in a thousand ways, the wishes, the resolutions of most of us donot take a wide range, nor does it require a very extensive circle tolimit them all.
I would not however have my readers imagine that vanity alone hasinduced me to record my experiences. No; I have had another, andI think a higher motive. I wished to convey to the intelligence of allanimals capable of understanding the language of Caneville, some portionsof the history of a _real_ Cat; and, by so doing, try to remove from theminds of many the opinion that she is a creature _ignorant of the finerfeelings, oblivious of gratitude_, incapable of strong attachments,and so uncertain in her temper as to scratch and bite even, one minute,the paw she has been licking and fondling the moment before. I wished toprove that the same natural disposition holds good with our race as withevery other; that some of us are, from our birth, kind, rough, loveable,cruel, tender-hearted, and ferocious, just as other beasts that wear atail or come into the world without one; and that this temperament maybe modified, and even changed, by education and treatment, precisely asthe dispositions of other animals.
It is a cruel wrong done to our race to exclaim, as many do, that "Catshave no attachments, no tenderness; that there is always a lurkingfierceness in their hearts, which makes them forget, with the first markof roughness or ill treatment, a thousand benefits which they may haveformerly received." I deny it wholly. I, a Cat, affirm that, with fewexceptions, there are no animals more loving or more tender. Look atthe care which a respectable married Puss bestows upon her numerousoffspring! Can any mamma more carefully wash or tend her darlings? Willany show greater willingness to forego her own occupations, in order tofondle and descend to be the playmate of her little ones? Does anydisplay a firmer courage to defend them? And if she should give way toa little expression of feeling when her tail is trodden upon or pulled,or be betrayed into an angry growl when her territory is invaded, whatthen? You would not have her show so little spirit as to receive everyinsult unnoticed, or return a quiet "thank you" for the pain, physicalor moral, which has been inflicted on her. How would _you_, dear reader,act if _your_ tail were wantonly pulled, or if _your_ house were to beentered by an ugly stranger without invitation?
We most of us laugh at our good friends the Sheep, and indulge in manya sly joke at their stupidity. "What can be more absurd," we say,"than that habit of theirs of constantly playing at 'follow my leader,'and putting themselves into all sorts of disagreeable situations inconsequence?" But are we any better ourselves? Are not _we_ alwaysfollowing some leader?--always imitating somebody, and running in crowdshither and thither because so-and-so are running there too? And thusit is that _opinions_, once uttered by some great animal in authority,are taken up and repeated by his imitators, and are looked on as thevery essence of wisdom, while they are often, in fact, no other, whenexamined, than untrue or mischievously unjust. Such are the petsentences I have alluded to, wherein Cats are described: a whole race issometimes condemned because a few members of it have proved unworthy;and a tribe gets a bad name because some animal of influence, a Jackassperhaps, brays out that "they are _all_ worthless."
It has been often observed, and I therefore do not profess to utteran original idea by remarking it again, that when our prejudices areenlisted in favour of or against any object, every circumstance isturned to its advantage or the reverse. If we have done an animal akindness, we are ready to do him another; if we have inflicted on himany injury, we are not at all indisposed to add a fresh one to it. Andso it has happened that our numerous family, having been by many illtreated, are constantly exposed to kicks and insult from those sameparties, for no other reason than that they have kicked and insultedus before. The meekness of our disposition has been distorted intohypocrisy; our quiet has been called "meditative treachery;" and ournatural and innocent instincts have been styled "the proofs of asanguinary temperament." Our every look has been perverted by ourenemies into a moral squint; and our simplest caress and naturallyfondling way have been set down as the strongest marks of a Jesuiticalheart. In fact, in the eyes of many, nothing we can do, no step we cantake, but is considered evidence of our wicked disposition; and we arenot unfrequently loaded with abuse for the very things for which beaststhat have a better name get love and commendation.
How happy it would make me if I thought the perusal of these few pageswould induce any one to pause and reflect before condemning any oneanimal! And here I do not refer to my own race alone, but to the worldof beasts at large; whether the Lion, creating a sensation in the classto which he belongs, or the Ass, laughed at for his stupidity in thecircle to which his position in life assigns him. The same animal wouldoften be judged differently if differently situated: were the Lion andthe Ass, by some freak of nature, to change places, the stupidity of thelatter would be set down as wit, and his every saying would beapplauded; whilst the Lion, instead of being looked on as the perfectionof nobleness and beauty, would be styled a surly brute, and consideredat the best no better than a bore.
I think I hear some of my readers exclaim, "Who is this old Cat,forsooth, that she should thus presume to teach us lessons? The 'itchfor scratching' must be very strong upon her that she should insist onswelling her tale in so outrageous a manner!" I own my fault, and willbring my musings to a stop.
My wish was to meet my readers with a friendly rub; my desire was topart from them with a gentle warning. Above all, my wish was to havethem think of me kindly; for, though a Cat, and no longer young,--thoughno more possessed of those graces which once distinguished me, when theeye, as I have been told, felt pleasure in gazing on my form,--my heartstill beats warmly, tenderly, and without envy, and would feel no commonjoy if it thought it had not dwelt in this earthly abode in vain.
A JUVENILE PARTY.]