cyclone was a yellow dog of no breeding, that franklin had begged from a man in one of the parks.
“he was making horse noises at him,” franklin said indignantly; “and a man who doesn’t know any better than to make horse noises at a dog, doesn’t deserve to own one.”
so cyclone became a member of the wood family, and received his name because of the way that a room looked after he had run through it. he had his peculiarities from the beginning, and one was not to bow to any member of the family that he met on the street. he preferred to take his walks alone, and although franklin met him in all sorts[73] of places around town, cyclone would never recognize him.
soon after bridget joined the family, she nearly gave notice because of cyclone’s rude behavior.
“it was comin’ out of church, i was,” she said; “and there he was waitin’ for me on the shteps as gintlemanly as you plaze. and father malone, who’d been so kind as to pass the time of day wid me as i came out, says,[74] ‛shure, miss donnahue, is that your little dog?’ and sez i, ‛faith he is! just watch and see how swate he looks at me.’ and then if he didn’t turn his head away, and pretind he was another dog! the shame of it, mum! and before the praste too! i never lived with folks before to be so treated.”
but at home cyclone was quite a different person. he became tenderly attached to weejums’ kittens, and allowed them to sharpen their claws on his legs.
one day when mrs. wood was in the kitchen, she saw cyclone and two other dogs trot around the house in single file, and enter the woodshed. cyclone led his guests to the box where the kittens lay heaped in a downy pile, with one little pansy face turned upward, and wagged his tail. then the two other dogs also wagged their tails, for they saw that it was the thing to do.
“did you ever see anything so sweet in all your life?” cyclone asked.
“no, never,” they replied, and, turning[75] around, they all trotted off in solemn style.
“oh, mother!” said eunice, flying into the parlor one day, “clytie got out of the box, and cyclone put her back again.”
clytie was the smartest of weejums’ family, and the first to stagger around on the soft little paws that double up so uncomfortably when one tries to hurry! but the others soon followed, and came along behind with high continual mews, and trembling tails held straight up in the air.
minoose was the black one, and his name was supposed to be the indian word for “kitty.” fan-baby, the third, was remarkable for not knowing what color she was supposed to be, or how to purr. she never found out the color, and did not learn how to purr until she was nearly three months old; then she began to purr, and purred every minute for two weeks. strangers passing the house heard her purring on the porch, and the family was often amused by hearing[76] the purr coming through the halls after dark.
she adapted it to meal-times, and invented a lovely tremolopurr for drinking milk, and a fierce staccatopurr for meat and other chewed things. finally mrs. wood grew so tired of fan-baby’s purr that she gave her away to a nice little girl who owned a pug dog, and it was the sight of this dog that first taught fan-baby how to stop purring.
cyclone took great care of the kittens when they were young, and brought them back from all kinds of dangerous places. minoose would follow strangers down the street, and then forget how to come home; and clytie would scramble up a tree in the back yard, and not know how to get down. cyclone would sit under the tree, and bark sympathetically, while clytie tried first one front paw and then the other, with no success, until weejums would come to the rescue, and explain that, of course, you have to come down back-to. cyclone saved weejums a great deal of trouble[77] in this way, by letting her know when the children needed her.
but when they reached the large-eared stage, and their blue eyes changed to the mature green of older cats, cyclone’s occupation was gone. he looked in vain for a kitten to bring home, and one day, after quite a long search, he found one. it was a maltese kitten, very thin and absurd-looking, and no one knew where it came from.
“oh, mother, can’t we keep it?” eunice said in delight. “you know you always said we should have a maltese kitten if anybody gave us one.”
“yes; but this wasn’t given to us, except by cyclone. some little girl has lost her kitten, and is probably crying over it now. you remember the way you felt when weejums was gone.”
“well, but how’ll we get it back to the little girl? cyclone won’t tell where he found it.”
“perhaps it’ll be advertised,” mrs. wood said. “we’ll wait a few days and see.”
[78]
but nobody claimed “ivanhoe,” as eunice called him, and presently mrs. wood discovered why he seemed so destitute of connections.
he had fits.
they were fearful maltese fits, and generally took place while the family was at table, so that they would all have to take up their feet and sit upon them during the rest of the meal. he was not encouraged to appear in the dining-room, but, being a very thin cat, it was easy for him to shoot in between bridget’s feet when she opened the door. franklin called him the slate pencil, and said that he had but one dimension; and eunice looked him over very carefully to see if any part of him was missing. but mrs. wood explained that franklin meant only that ivanhoe was a very long cat, and neither wide nor deep. even his purr was so long and thin that franklin said it could have been wound on a spool like thread. there was none of the baritone richness that one heard in minoose’s purr when he was chewing his plush mouse.
[79]
minoose kept this mouse behind the guitar case under the piano, and would scramble half-way up the portieres with it, switching his tail at the same time. but ivanhoe did not admire him for any of these little boy attempts to show off. ivanhoe had manners, and won weejums’ heart because of his gallant ways, and also because his tail was longer than those of her own children.
but mrs. wood decided that he should go, as soon as she could find some one who was willing to own him; so one day, after the cabbage-and-lettuce woman had called, ivanhoe was missing. but much to everybody’s surprise, eunice never even mentioned it, and went around with her usual tranquil expression.
the explanation of this came two days later, when the door-bell rang, and a strange little girl announced proudly: “i’ve brought back your kitty. he came to our house. we live out of town.”
“thank you so much, dear,” mrs. wood said, trying to look pleased. “but how did[80] you know it was our kitty? have you seen him here in the yard?”
“oh, i read the direction on his collar. it was ’most rubbed out, but i read it. i’m in the second grade.” and pulling ivanhoe’s head around until he meekly choked, she exhibited some very fine printing on the frayed orange ribbon that he wore. mrs. wood remembered that ivanhoe had worn this ribbon, and that she had allowed him to keep it, as a kind of trousseau, when he went away. but she did not know that the ribbon said: “please return to eunice wood, 1132 burnside ave.”
“thank you very much for your kindness, dear. but wouldn’t you like to keep the kitty yourself? we have several more.”
“oh, so have we! our old cat’s hid ’em in the barn; but we heard ’em squealin’. i guess they’ll come out soon.”
mrs. wood sighed, but ivanhoe had already vanished behind the house, so she allowed the child to depart, with a little cake, and a fresh[81] piece of that same orange ribbon for her own kitty.
“eunice, why did you write that address on the collar?” mrs. wood asked, when her daughter came in from school with ivanhoe under one arm.
“why, you never told me not to,” eunice said. “you know you never told me not to, mother. i just thought if he happened to run away from whoever you gave him to, he might’s well come back here.”
mrs. wood’s eyes twinkled as they sat down to dinner, but grew grave again as she heard ivanhoe plunging down the cellar stairs in his most maltese fit of all.
“i suppose he ought to be killed,” she thought; “but no cat’s fits are worth a child’s happiness, and at least, fits aren’t contagious.”
“biddy,” she said as the door opened, “do you suppose ivanhoe hurt himself just now? he made such a noise!”
“shure, mum, he’s all right now again. he run straight into the ice-box while i was[82] fixin’ the melon. i tuk him out meself, and the fit was off him.”
the cats all slept in the cellar, which was nicely warmed by the furnace; but the rabbits suffered when the cold weather came, and one morning, after a severe snow-storm, there was nothing to be seen of their house but the cupola. franklin dug it out with much anxiety, fearing to find them frozen to death. but instead of being dead, they were all piled in one large warm heap on top of each other, like popcorn balls, and seemed more than ready for their breakfast. mrs. wood thought it was a wonder that they had lived through the night, and advised franklin to put them in the cellar while the cold weather lasted.
so it happened that when bridget did not close the cellar door at night, cyclone, who slept in the kitchen, would be awakened by strange tweaks and nips at his tail, which called forth yelps of indignation. but not being a hunting dog, he never attempted to [83]catch the wicked white heels that went scudding back through the darkness. he had decided that the rabbits were a new kind of kitten, and had a claim on his indulgence as uncle to the wood family.
one night mrs. wood heard a most extraordinary noise in the kitchen, and, creeping down with her candle, interrupted a grand game of tag between all the animals,—dog, cats, and rabbits,—who were chasing each other around the room in a mad circle, accompanied by stamps, spits, and barks. it was so evidently a game, that mrs. wood felt sorry to have disturbed them, and sat down to watch the fun. but her candle had broken the spell, and like fairies when the cock crows, they became once more their daytime selves; indeed, most of them looked very much ashamed of having been caught at such antics.
“perhaps they really are fairies,” mrs. wood thought, going into the pantry after crackers, “and have taken these disguises just[84] to play with my children and me. very likely, if i’d come down sooner, i might have seen them in their real forms.”
when she returned, they all gathered around her, and teased for crackers; while samuel, the pet of the bunnies, jumped into her lap. but before all the crackers were gone, the candle burned low and went out, and only the faint light of the stove kept her from stepping on any of the little soft paws that followed her to the stairs.
“fairies, good-night!” she called gently as she left them. but only the friendly whack, whack of cyclone’s tail on the floor answered her from the darkness.
“i think, biddy,” she said the next morning, “that it might be better to keep the kitchen door closed at night.”
soon after this there was a great thaw, and one morning, when bridget went down to the ice-box, there were six inches of water in the cellar.
“oh, the poor animules!” she cried, wringing[85] her hands. and then she laughed so hard that the children came running into the kitchen to see what was the matter.
“coom down! coom down!” she called. “all the rabbits do be floatin’ ’round on boxes!”
each rabbit was enthroned, sullen and dignified, on a box of its own; while the cats sat in a disgusted row on top of the coal-bin. it was such a funny sight that the children laughed even louder than biddy, although they were worried for the safety of their pets.
“how’ll we ever get them out?” eunice asked.
there was a pattering of feet behind them, and cyclone came down to join the party.
“here—i know!” said franklin, seizing him by the collar. “look, cyclone! seek—seek! go fetch ’em in.”
but cyclone only ran up and down the steps in terrible distress, not having the slightest idea what franklin wanted.
“seek—seek,” franklin said again, pointing[86] to the rabbits, and, after barking frantically for a minute, cyclone plunged into the water. he reached the first box, and scrambled up beside dulcie, who, not appreciating his company in the least, moved over as near as she could to the edge, and bit him on the leg. cyclone yelped and leaped down again; while the boat rocked and swayed dangerously from his final kick.
this seemed to give him an idea; so planting his nose against the box, he pushed it gently towards the stairs, wagging his dripping tail in response to the children’s shouts of praise.
“good old boy,—fetch, fetch!” franklin said, as dulcie was safely landed, and cyclone struggled back after another.
in ten minutes more he had rescued all the rabbits, and a board was laid across from the stairs to the coal-bin for the cats to descend. they stalked over in haughty silence, one after the other, and ignored the whole proceeding from that time forth. indeed, weejums[87] could never even bear to hear it mentioned; perhaps because she felt that her dignity had been compromised.
but cyclone breakfasted with the family that morning, and his extra bone was as sweet as his heart was proud.
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