my name is toots. why, i have not the slightest idea. but i suppose very few people—cats or otherwise—are consulted about their own names. if they were, these would perhaps be, as a rule, more appropriate.
what qualities of mind or body my name was supposed to illustrate, i have not to this hour a notion. i distinctly remember the stage of my kittenhood, when i thought that toots was the english for cream.
"toots! toots!" my young mistress used to say, in the most suggestive tones, creeping after me as i would creep after a mouse, with a saucerful of that delicious liquid in her hand.
"toots is first-rate stuff," i used to think, and i purred accordingly, for i never was an ungrateful cat.
this was in the dining-room, and in the morning. later in the day, "toots" was served in the drawing-room. it was between these two periods, i remember, that one day i found myself in the larder. why i went there, puzzled me at the time; for if there is anything i hate it is a chill, and there was a horrid draught through a window pierced with tiny holes, which seemed to let in a separate blast for every hair of one's fur. i followed the cook, it is true; but i did not follow the cook as a rule—not, for instance, when she went out to the coal-hole in the yard. i had slipped in under her dress. i was behind the potato-tub when she went out, shutting the door after her. for some mysterious reason i felt on the tip-claw of expectation. my nose twitched with agreeable sensations. an inward voice seemed to murmur, toots! regardless of the draughts, i sprang on to the shelf close under the window. and there was such a dish of cream! the saucers in which one got it at breakfast did not hold a twentieth part of what this brimming pan contained. as to the five o'clock china, in which visitors give you a tepid teaspoonful, with bits of old tea-leaves in it—i grinned at the thought as i drew in tongueful after tongueful of the thick yellow cream.
at this moment i heard my young mistress's voice in the distant passages.
"toots, toots!" said she.
"i've got plenty," purred i, lifting my head to speak, by a great effort.
"toots, toots!" she miowed on, for she wasn't much quicker-witted than the rest of her race.
"no, thank you," thought i; "and if you want five o'clock toots for yourself, i advise you to come here for it." i thought this, but speak i really could not—i was too busy lapping.
it was delicious stuff! but when the dish was about three-parts empty, i began to feel as if i had had a good deal, and to wish i had more appetite for the rest. "it's a shame to leave it, though," i thought, "when a few more laps will empty the dish." for i come of an ancient and rough-tongued cat family, who always lick their platters clean. so i set to work again, though the draught was most annoying, and froze the cream to butter on my whiskers.
i was polishing the glazed earthenware with the family skill, when i became conscious that the house was resounding to the cry of "toots!"
"toots, toots!" squeaked the housemaid, in the servants' hall.
"toots, toots!" growled the elderly butler, in the pantry.
"toots, toots, cock-a-toots!" yelled that intolerable creature, the macaw.
"toots, toots!" snapped the cook.
"miow," said i; for i had finished the cream, and could speak now, though i confess i did not feel equal to any great exertion.
the cook opened the door. she found me—she did not find the cream, which she had left in the dish ready for whipping.
perhaps it was because she had no cream to whip, that she tried to whip me. certainly, during the next half-hour, i had reason to be much confused as to the meaning of the word "toots." in the soft voice of my mistress it had always seemed to me to mean cream; now it seemed to mean kicks, blows, flapping dish-cloths, wash-leathers and dusters, pokers, carpet brooms, and every instrument of torture with which a poor cat could be chased from garret to cellar. i am pretty nimble, and though i never felt less disposed for violent exercise, i flatter myself i led them a good dance before, by a sudden impulse of affectionate trustfulness, i sprang straight into my mistress's arms for shelter.
"you must beat him, miss," gasped the cook, "or there'll never be no bearing him in the house. every drop of that lovely cream gone, and half the sweets for the ball supper throwed completely out of calculation!"
"naughty toots, naughty toots, naughty toots!" cried the young lady, and with every "toots" she gave me a slap; but as her paws had no claws in them, i was more offended than hurt.
this was my first lesson in honesty, and it was also the beginning of that train of reasoning in my own mind, by which i came to understand that when people called "toots" they meant me. and as—to do them justice—they generally called me with some kind intention, i made a point of responding to my name.
indeed, they were so kind to me, and my position was such a very comfortable one, that when a lean tabby called one day for a charitable subscription, and begged me to contribute a few spare partridge bones to a fund for the support of starving cats in the neighbourhood, who had been deserted by families leaving town, i said that really such cases were not much in my line. there is a great deal of imposition about—perhaps the cats had stolen the cream, and hadn't left off stealing it when they were chased by the family. i doubted if families where the cats deserved respect and consideration ever did leave town. one has so many calls, if one once begins to subscribe to things; and i am particularly fond of partridge.
but when, a few months later, the very words which the lean tabby had spoken passed between the butler and the cook in reference to our own household, and i learnt that "the family" were going "to leave town," i felt a pang of conscience, and wished i had subscribed the merry thought, or even the breast-bone—there was very little on it—to the deserted cats' fund.
but it was my young mistress who told me (with regrets and caresses, which in the circumstances were mere mockery) that i was to be left behind.
i have a particularly placid temper, and can adapt myself pretty comfortably to the ups and downs of life; but this news made my tail stand on end.
"poor dear toots!" said my mistress, kissing my nose, and tickling me gently under the ear, as if she were saying the prettiest things possible. "i am so sorry! i don't know what we are to do with you! but we are going abroad, and we can't take you, you dear old thing! we've such heaps of luggage, and such lots of servants, and no end of things that must go! but i can't bear to think of you left behind!"
"no," said i indignantly; "that's just it, and the people at number ten, and number fourteen, and number twenty-five, couldn't bear to think what would become of their cats, so they went away and didn't think about it. they couldn't bear to see them die, so they didn't give them a dose of quick poison, but left them to die of starvation, when they weren't there to see. you're a heartless, selfish race, you human beings, and i suspect that mrs. tabby is not the only shabby-looking, true-hearted soul, who has to pester people for subscriptions to patch up the dreary end of existence for deserted pets, when caressing days are over. fuff!"
and i jumped straight out of her arms, and whisked through the dining-room window. for some time i strolled thoughtfully along the top of the area railings. i rather hoped i might see mrs. tabby. i wondered how her subscription list was getting on. i felt all the difference between a lady's interest in a reduced gentlewomen's benevolent institution or a poor annuitants' home, when she is well and wealthy, and the same lady's interest when some turn of misfortune's wheel has left her "dependent on her own exertions." it seemed that i was to be left dependent on my own exertions—and my thoughts turned naturally to mrs. tabby and the deserted cats' fund.
but not a sign of the good creature! at this moment a hansom cab rattled up, and a gentleman got out and rang our front-door bell. as he got out of the cab, i jumped down from the railings, and rubbed against his legs—he had very long legs.
"halloa, toots! is that you?" said he in a kindly voice, which had always had attractions for me, and which in my present mood was particularly grateful. his hat was set well on the back of his head, and i could clearly see the friendly expression of his countenance. suddenly he tilted it over his nose, which i have observed that he is apt to do when struck by a new idea. "toots!" said he abruptly, "what are they going to do with you?"
blessings on this kind of friend! say i; the friend who will encumber himself with the responsibility of thinking what's to become of you, when you are down in the world. those tender-hearted souls who can't bear to think of your misfortunes are a much more numerous part of one's acquaintance.
a ray of hope began to dawn upon me. perhaps a new and an even more luxurious home was to be offered for my acceptance. in what foolish panic had i begun to identify myself with the needy classes of society? a cat of my stripes and style! once more i thought of benevolent institutions from a patronizing point of view. but i would be a patron, and a generous one. the shock had done so much! and the next time mrs. tabby called i would pick out a lot of my best bones for the fund.
meanwhile, i went back to the railings, and from these took a flying leap, and perched myself on the gentleman's shoulder. i could hardly have managed it from the ground, he had such very long legs.
i think, by the bye, that i have mentioned this before. i do not wish to repeat myself, or to dwell on my grievance, though, if his legs had been shorter, his riding-boots would not have been so long, and i might at this moment know what became of—but i must not forestall my story.
i jumped on to the gentleman's shoulder. in doing so, i knocked his hat over one eye. but i have seen it so since then, and he made no complaint. the man-servant opened the door, and we went into the house together.
