A CAT BOOK
BY
E. V. LUCAS
ILLUSTRATED BY
PAT SULLIVAN
(Creator of Felix the Cat)
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1927
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
THE CAT’S DAINTINESS
The cat desirous to be fed
Has very little mind for bread.
At thick or thin, at new or stale,
She waves “No, thank you,” with her tail.
But butter! she would eat a pat,
Such is the nature of a cat.
THE CAT’S GREEDINESS
To get at milk a cat will do
A hundred things she oughtn’t to.
But if it’s cream she wants, why then,
She’ll multiply those sins by ten.
THE CAT’S DREAM
The cat (like ourselves) has its favourite dream,
And the dream it loves better than all,
Is to take the large milk-pail and fill it with cream,
Drawn fresh from the cow in the stall.
THE CAT’S CLEANLINESS
There’s nothing by a cat desired
So little as a tubbing.
Its tongue does every thing required
In scrubbing and in rubbing.
THE CAT’S CONSCIENCE
A dog will often steal a bone.
But conscience lets him not alone,
And by his tail his guilt is known.
But cats consider theft a game,
And, howsoever you may blame,
Refuse the slightest sign of shame.
When food mysteriously goes,
The chances are that Pussy knows
More than she leads you to suppose.
And hence no need there is for you,
If Puss should lose a meal or two,
To feel her pulse and make ado.
THE CAT’S PLAYFULNESS
However you exert your wits
To find a plaything meet for kits,
You’ll never choose a better thing
Than ball of worsted, wool, or string.
A cotton reel is very well,
A bell-rope answers for a spell;
But, mark my words, a costly ball
Of Berlin wool is best of all.
They chase it up and down the floor,
Unwinding more and more and more,
They twist it all about the chair,
And bite and knot it everywhere.
Till what with twist and roll and pull,
You can’t distinguish kit from wool,
And only with another skein
Can knitting be resumed again.
THE CAT’S CRUELTY
Of all the cruel things there are,
A cat is cruellest by far.
While other creatures kill outright,
To persecute is her delight.
So when you hear that Pussy’s prey
Successfully has got away,
You should enthusiastic be,
And ask for marmalade at tea.
THE CAT’S FISHFULNESS
Although for milk and mice and birds
A cat reserves her choicest words,
She makes exception in the case
Of herring, haddock, sole, or plaice.
If breakfast should consist of these,
She’ll do her very best to please:
She’ll rub against your leg, and purr,
And beg of you to notice her.
This appetite for fish can lead
To shocking instances of greed;
And goldfish in particular
Dislike to be where pussies are.
THE CAT’S SERIOUSNESS
Among the things that kittens hate,
A doll comes almost first:
’Tis bad enough to share its plate,
To wear its clothes is worst.
Luxurious or dignified
No kitten ever looked,
With bonnet strings severely tied,
And cloak severely hooked.
THE CAT’S IMPATIENCE
Among the games a Persian cat
Declines to play with rapture at—
Or join at all except by force—
Is acting as its owner’s horse.
The Persian cat’s one wish is this:
To live a life of perfect bliss.
And bliss is far away indeed,
When children use you as a steed.
THE CAT’S FRIENDS
Among the friends that cats possess,
Come girls and women first of all
Unceasingly will they caress
This comfortable animal.
The man to Puss is also kind,
But quite the contrary, the boy,
Who can, I grieve to mention, find,
In teasing her, acutest joy.
THE CAT’S ENEMIES
Among the cat’s persistent foes,
The dog deserves the foremost place:
The moment Puss is seen, off goes
The dog in ever-zealous chase.
And cockatoos and parrots hate
The cat, with all their strength of beak.
And magpies never hesitate
To call her coward, thief and sneak.
THE CAT’S SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS
A kitten need not be a dunce,
Nor specially absurd,
To see no difference at once
Between a bee and bird.
It has to learn by slow degrees
That, though they both have wings,
There’s far too little meat on bees,
And far too many stings.
THE CAT’S MASTERFULNESS
The hungry child intent to feed
Is well advised to hide,
For pussy-cats beset by greed
Are not to be denied.
Suppose the slice of cake is big,
Suppose the child’s a mite,
With all the ardour of the pig
They’ll ply their appetite.
One cat alone could be withstood,
The child could win the day;
With two to one it’s little good
To try to get away.
THE CAT’S SLEEPLESSNESS
By nature’s laws
The dog bow-wows,
The ass hee-haws,
The cat miaous.
The worst miaous
Occur at night
When cats carouse
With all their might.
A cat miaous
Upon the tiles,
In twenty thousand different styles.
THE CAT’S FUTURE
The dog is really useful, for he helps to guard the house,
And he’ll carry your umbrella or your glove;
But a cat does simply nothing save to catch the luckless mouse,
Which no one could account an act of love.
In exchange for cream and butter and the other things she loots,
’Twould be a just and proper thing indeed
To persuade our friend the Pussy to put polish on our boots;
And—instead of midnight carolling—to read.
