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Kittens


Kittenhood, the baby time especially of country cats, is with most the

brightest, sprightliest, and prettiest period of their existence, and

perhaps the most happy. True, when first born and in the earliest era of

their lives, they are blind, helpless little things, dull, weak, and

staggering, scarcely able to stand, if at all, almost rolling over at

every attempt, making querulous, fretful noises, if wakeful or cold, or

> for the time motherless. But 'tis not for long; awhile, and she, the

fondest of mothers, is with them. They are nestled about her, or amid

her soft, warm fluffy fur, cossetted with parental tenderness, caressed,

nurtured, and, with low, sweet tones and fondlings, they are soothed

again and again to sleep.--They sleep.--Noiseless, and with many a

longing, lingering look, the careful, watchful, loving creature slowly

and reluctantly steals away; soon to return, when she and her little

ones are lost "in the land of dreams." And so from day to day, until

bright, meek-eyed, innocent, inquiring little faces, with eager eyes,

peep above the basket that is yet their home. One bolder than the others

springs out, when, scared at its own audacity, as quickly, and oft

clumsily, scrambles back, then out--in--and out, in happy, varied, wild,

frolicsome, gambolsome play, they clutch, twist, turn, and wrestle in

artless mimicry of desperate quarrelling;--the struggle over, in

liveliest antics they chase and rechase in turn, or in fantastic mood

play; 'tis but play, and such wondrous play--bright, joyous, and light;

and so life glides on with them as kittens--frisky, skittish, playful

kittens.



A few more days, and their mother leads them forth, with many an anxious

look and turn, softly calling in a subdued voice, they halting almost at

every step; suddenly, oft at nothing, panic-stricken, quickly scamper

back, not one yet daring to follow where all is so oddly strange and

new, their natural shyness being stronger than the love of freedom.

Again, with scared look and timid steps, they come, when again at

nothing frightened, or with infantile pretence, they are off,

"helter-skelter," without a pause or stay, one and all, they o'er and

into their basket clamber, tumble in, turn about and stare with a more

than half-bewildered, self-satisfied safety look about them. Gaining

courage once more, they peer about, with dreamy, startled, anxious eyes,

watching for dangers that never are, although expected. Noiseless comes

their patient, loving mother; with what new delight they cling about

her; how fondly and tenderly she tends them, lures, cossets, coaxes, and

talks, as only a gentle mother-cat can--"There is no danger,

no!--nothing to fear. Is she not with them; will she not guard, keep and

defend them? There is a paradise out there; through this door; they must

see it. Come, she will show them; come, have confidence! Now,

then--come!" When followed by her three little ones, and they with much

misgiving, she passes out--out into the garden, out among the lovely,

blooming, fragrant roses, out among the sweet stocks and the

damask-coloured gilly-flowers, the pink daisies, brown, red, and orange

wallflowers, the spice-scented pinks, and other gay and modest floral

beauties that make so sweet the soft and balmy breath of Spring. Out

into the sunshine, almost dazed amid a flood of light, warmed by the

glowing midday sun. Light above, light around and everywhere about;

while the sweet-scented breezes come joy-laden with the happy wild

birds' melodious songs; wearied with wonderment, under the

flower-crowned lilacs they gather themselves to rest. How beautiful all

is, how full of young delights; the odorous wind fans, soothes, and

lulls them to rest, while rustling leaves softly whisper them to

sleep--they and their loving mother slumber unconscious of all things,

and with all things at peace. There, stretched in the warm sunshine

asleep, possibly dreaming of their after-life when they are kittens no

longer, they rest and--sleep.



Their young, bright life has begun; how charming all is, how peaceful

under the young, green leaves, bright as emeralds; about them

flickering, chequering lights play with the never-wearying, restless

shadows; they know of nothing but bliss, so happy, they enjoy

all--sweet-faced, gentle-eyed and pretty. Happy, there is no other word.

"Happy as a kitten." "Sprightly as a kitten." As they sleep they dream

of delight, awake they more than realise their dreams.



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