Beautiful Joe [32]
seen the second dog, and she knew she
must get rid of the mastiff. With an agile bound she sprang on his back, dug her
sharp claws in, till he put his tail between his legs and ran up the street,
howling with palm She rode a little way, then sprang off, and ran up the lane to
the stable.
I was very angry and wanted to fight something so I pitched into the Spitz dog.
He was a snarly, cross-grained creature, no friend to Jim and me, and he would
have been only too glad of a chance to help kill Malta.
I gave him one of the worst beatings he ever had. I don't suppose it was quite
right for me to do it, for Miss Laura says dogs should never fight; but he had
worried Malta before, and he had no business to do it. She belonged to our
family. Jim and I never worried his cat. I had been longing to give him a
shaking for some time, and now I felt for his throat through his thick hair and
dragged him all around the street. Then I let him go, and he was a civil dog
ever afterward
Malta was very grateful, and licked a little place where the Spitz bit me. I did
not get scolded for the broken window. Mary had seen from the kitchen window,
and told Mrs. Morris that I had gone to help Malta.
Malta was a very wise cat. She knew quite well that she must not harm the parrot
nor the canaries, and she never tried to catch them, even though she was left
alone in the room with them.
I have seen her lying in the sun, blinking sleepily, and listening with great
pleasure to Dick's singing. Miss Laura even taught her not to hunt the birds
outside.
For a long time she had tried to get it into Malta's head that it was cruel to
catch the little sparrows that came about the door, and just after I came, she
succeeded in doing so.
Malta was so fond of Miss Laura, that whenever she caught a bird, she came and
laid it at her feet. Miss Laura always picked up the little, dead creature,
pitied it and stroked it, and scolded Malta till she crept into a corner. Then
Miss Laura put the bird on a limb of a tree, and Malta watched her attentively
from her corner.
One day Miss Laura stood at the window, looking out into the garden. Malta was
lying on the platform, staring at the sparrows that were picking up crumbs from
the ground. She trembled, and half rose every few minutes, as if to go after
them. Then she lay down again. She was trying very hard not to creep on them.
Presently a neighbor's cat came stealing along the fence, keeping one eye on
Malta and the other on the sparrows. Malta was so angry! She sprang up and
chased her away, and then came back to the platform, where she lay down again
and waited for the sparrows to come back. For a long time she stayed there, and
never once tried to catch them.
Miss Laura was so pleased. She went to the door, and said, softly, "Come here,
Malta."
The cat put up her tail, and, meowing gently, came into the house. Miss Laura
took her up in her arms, and going down to the kitchen, asked Mary to give her a
saucer of her very sweetest milk for the best cat in the United States of
America.
Malta got great praise for this, and I never knew of her catching a bird
afterward. She was well fed in the house, and had no need to hurt such harmless
creatures.
She was very fond of her home, and never went far away, as Jim and I did. Once,
when Willie was going to spend a few weeks with a little friend who lived fifty
miles from Fairport, he took it into his head that Malta should go with him. His
mother told him that cats did not like to go away from home; but he said he
would be good to her, and begged so hard to take her, that at last his mother
consented.
He had been a few days in this place, when he wrote home to say that Malta had
run away. She had seemed very unhappy, and though he had kept her with him all
the time, she had acted as if she wanted to get away.
When the letter was read to Mr. Morris, he said, "Malta is on her way home. Cats
have a wonderful cleverness in finding their way to their
must get rid of the mastiff. With an agile bound she sprang on his back, dug her
sharp claws in, till he put his tail between his legs and ran up the street,
howling with palm She rode a little way, then sprang off, and ran up the lane to
the stable.
I was very angry and wanted to fight something so I pitched into the Spitz dog.
He was a snarly, cross-grained creature, no friend to Jim and me, and he would
have been only too glad of a chance to help kill Malta.
I gave him one of the worst beatings he ever had. I don't suppose it was quite
right for me to do it, for Miss Laura says dogs should never fight; but he had
worried Malta before, and he had no business to do it. She belonged to our
family. Jim and I never worried his cat. I had been longing to give him a
shaking for some time, and now I felt for his throat through his thick hair and
dragged him all around the street. Then I let him go, and he was a civil dog
ever afterward
Malta was very grateful, and licked a little place where the Spitz bit me. I did
not get scolded for the broken window. Mary had seen from the kitchen window,
and told Mrs. Morris that I had gone to help Malta.
Malta was a very wise cat. She knew quite well that she must not harm the parrot
nor the canaries, and she never tried to catch them, even though she was left
alone in the room with them.
I have seen her lying in the sun, blinking sleepily, and listening with great
pleasure to Dick's singing. Miss Laura even taught her not to hunt the birds
outside.
For a long time she had tried to get it into Malta's head that it was cruel to
catch the little sparrows that came about the door, and just after I came, she
succeeded in doing so.
Malta was so fond of Miss Laura, that whenever she caught a bird, she came and
laid it at her feet. Miss Laura always picked up the little, dead creature,
pitied it and stroked it, and scolded Malta till she crept into a corner. Then
Miss Laura put the bird on a limb of a tree, and Malta watched her attentively
from her corner.
One day Miss Laura stood at the window, looking out into the garden. Malta was
lying on the platform, staring at the sparrows that were picking up crumbs from
the ground. She trembled, and half rose every few minutes, as if to go after
them. Then she lay down again. She was trying very hard not to creep on them.
Presently a neighbor's cat came stealing along the fence, keeping one eye on
Malta and the other on the sparrows. Malta was so angry! She sprang up and
chased her away, and then came back to the platform, where she lay down again
and waited for the sparrows to come back. For a long time she stayed there, and
never once tried to catch them.
Miss Laura was so pleased. She went to the door, and said, softly, "Come here,
Malta."
The cat put up her tail, and, meowing gently, came into the house. Miss Laura
took her up in her arms, and going down to the kitchen, asked Mary to give her a
saucer of her very sweetest milk for the best cat in the United States of
America.
Malta got great praise for this, and I never knew of her catching a bird
afterward. She was well fed in the house, and had no need to hurt such harmless
creatures.
She was very fond of her home, and never went far away, as Jim and I did. Once,
when Willie was going to spend a few weeks with a little friend who lived fifty
miles from Fairport, he took it into his head that Malta should go with him. His
mother told him that cats did not like to go away from home; but he said he
would be good to her, and begged so hard to take her, that at last his mother
consented.
He had been a few days in this place, when he wrote home to say that Malta had
run away. She had seemed very unhappy, and though he had kept her with him all
the time, she had acted as if she wanted to get away.
When the letter was read to Mr. Morris, he said, "Malta is on her way home. Cats
have a wonderful cleverness in finding their way to their