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Sally in her fur coat cover

Sally in her fur coat

Chapter 11: CHAPTER X MOODS
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About This Book

A sequence of gentle, episodic stories follows two orphaned tiger-striped kittens—a lively sister and her more placid brother—as they navigate cold nights, hunger, household life, and neighborhood adventures. Each chapter offers a brief vignette: being rescued and housed, learning manners around people, playful chases, encounters with other animals, seasons and travel, and small moral lessons. Told from a feline perspective, the prose focuses on curiosity, sibling loyalty, domestic comforts, and the pleasures of simple sensations, offering warm humor and tender observations about growing up and finding belonging.

CHAPTER X
MOODS

Sally was a cat with moods. When she was well and busy, she was a happy kitten, but if there was the least thing wrong with her, she felt very forlorn. It was at these times that she thought of her dear mother and lamented her loss, for even dear Miss Harvey, who understood so well the feelings of a cat, could not quite make up for a furry mother who would put her paw about her and wash her when she was too tired to do it for herself. Oxford was not of much use as a sympathizer, and yet Sally always had the hope that he would be.

So one hot summer day, when Sally felt very unhappy and as if she were of no use to any one, she spoke to Oxford of her feelings.

‘I feel as if I were a perfectly useless cat,’ she said. ‘You can do so much for the family.’

The kittens were in the shade of the oak tree near the front door. It was a delightful spot, for they could have a view of the path, and see any one who went up or down it. Then, too, if any one came to the door, like the postman, they could take the chance to slip into the house, without bothering to go around to the back door.

Oxford made no reply.

Suddenly Sally remembered something she had heard in a sermon that Elvira was reading out of a newspaper. The preacher had said that the best way to forget one’s own troubles was to do something for some one else.

‘Oxford, wouldn’t you like me to wash around your ears?’ she said.

‘Oh, bother, no,’ said Oxford.

‘I feel so blue to-day,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe if I did something useful like washing your ears I’d feel better.’

‘There’s no use in doing something useful that nobody wants you to do,’ said he.

Sally hoped he would add, ‘My poor little sister, I am so sorry you are blue,’ but instead of that he said, ‘Sally, you have been eating too many grasshoppers.’

Sally was pretty sure this was the case, but she had hoped Oxford would not have thought of it.

‘Grasshoppers are so alluring,’ said Sally. She had picked up this word from one of Miss Winifred’s callers who was speaking of the moving pictures. It certainly applied to grasshoppers which were so constantly on the move.

‘You see,’ Sally went on, ‘they are hard to catch, and if you do catch a grasshopper, there doesn’t seem any point in letting it go.’

‘You could give them to me,’ said Oxford.

‘But you get more than I do.’

‘Yes, that is true. But they never upset me and make me blue. If they affected my spirits, I should cut down on grasshoppers.’

Sally knew this would have been the case. She admired her brother’s strength of character.

Just then Sally saw her friend, Mrs. Conant, going down the path with some letters to mail. She stopped to speak to the kittens.

‘Well, you do know how to make yourselves comfortable,’ she said as she passed. She had on one of the pretty pink-and-white dresses that Sally liked so much, and in her present mood she thought how nice it would be to be a pretty young lady whom every one loved, with a thin cool dress on instead of fur.

Although Oxford did not express his affection, he was very fond of his little sister, and he wanted to help her. But he could not resist saying, ‘Sally, you ought to learn to brace up.’ He quickly added, ‘Suppose we play with our catnip mice for a change? Maybe the catnip will brace you up.’

They saw Miss Winifred and a friend coming up the path. This meant a fine chance to get into the house, so the kittens went up the steps and stood before the front door.

‘Dear me!’ said Miss Winifred, ‘I wonder how long you have been waiting here.’ She took out her latch-key and, as she opened the door, the kittens slipped in ahead of her. They ran along to the door that led to the kitchen. Miss Winifred followed them and, as it was dark in that corner, she stooped down to see if the kittens were there. Yes, she felt two furry backs, they were patiently waiting for her to open the door.

Once in the kitchen, Oxford gave a leap from a chair to the small shelf on which the clock stood, for on it were the catnip mice. He knocked off first one and then the other.

‘Bless your heart,’ said Elvira, as she looked at Sally. ‘You look a little peaked to-day. Too many grasshoppers, I fear.’

Miss Harvey came into the kitchen just then and Sally got into her lap and put her two paws around her neck, for she wanted a little petting. There are times when this is even more comforting than catnip.

‘My poor little Sally,’ said Miss Harvey, as she stroked the pussy. ‘My poor, dear, little Sally. Did she feel as if she wanted some one to pet her? I understand, dear, just how you feel.’

Miss Harvey was tactful enough not to refer to the grasshoppers.

Oxford was already playing with his catnip mouse, tossing it high in the air and running to sniff it where it fell. Suddenly Sally scrambled down from Miss Harvey’s lap and flew toward Oxford’s mouse, seizing it before his astonished eyes.

‘Silly kittens,’ said Elvira. ‘There are two mice, you can each have one,’ and she picked up the other mouse and threw it on the floor. Then they both ran to get that mouse. Sally had it in her mouth and Oxford knocked it out.

‘Oh, if that is your game, all right,’ said Elvira, who was an understanding person.

Sally felt much refreshed after half an hour spent with the catnip mice, and as usually happened after a time with this stimulating plaything, she felt like talking in verse instead of prose. Even Oxford felt like answering back in rhyme. It was a fine game.

Sally:     I’d like to be a lady fair,
All dressed in silks and fur,
With rosy lips and golden hair,
And speech, instead of purr.
My father’d give me a fur coat,
And on a summer day,
When on the waters I could float,
I’d put my coat away.
Were I in silk instead of fur,
How pleasant that would be,
Pink silk I’d choose, and, Oxford Gray,
You’d be so proud of me!
Oxford: Pink silk, indeed, you foolish maid,
Why can’t you be content?
You’re costumed for both sun and shade,
Nor does it cost a cent.
Sally, I’d hate the sight of you,
I like you as you are,
A modest kitten, sweet and true,
With eyes that see afar.
Sally:     Well, Oxford, since I’m dear to you,
Thankful I ought to be,
For human brothers oft find fault
With sisters’ fineree.
Perhaps the lady in her silk
And coat of costly fur,
Would sometimes like my bowl of milk,
If she could have my purr.
For cares, they say, must come with wealth,
And, Oxford, we are free
To roam the house at night, by stealth,
With mice for company.
To sleep all night, when mice are near,
Would seem a waste of time,
Than ladies I am surely freer,
For I can race and climb.
Oxford: Now, Sally, there’s my own good cat,
A cat of parts and sense,
Your wits are sharp, I’m sure of that,
People are often dense.
Of all the creatures on this earth
The kitten’s life is best,
I’ve always known this from my birth,
I pity all the rest.
The men I pity very much,
They cannot watch the ants,
And grasshoppers, and worms, and such,
In their accustomed haunts.
I’d hate to be so very tall,
A man I would not be,
It’s easier if you are small,
To climb a chestnut tree.
My fur coat is a grand affair,
It did not cost a cent.
Were I a man and fur did wear,
What hundreds would be spent!
The lesson surely seems to read,
And it is very plain,
To make the most of what you are,
With heart, and paws, and brain.