TONY'S CROWDED HOUR.

Auckland Star, Volume 304, Issue 304, 23 December 1926, Page 6 (Supplement)

TONY'S CROWDED HOUR.

WHEN THE CAT TURNED UP TRUMPS. (By J. M. McK.) Little Mary burst excitedly into the room whore I, her much worried parent, was endeavouring, as best I might above the din the boys were making, to read I the Christmas advertisements in that night's "Star." "Quick. Dad," she panted, ''Tom's caught a rat." The exclamation of annoyance that rose to my lips went untutored in the interest awakened by the child's remark. To think that fat old Tom should have roused himself sufficiently from his usual somnolent position by the kitchen fireside to no chasing rats, was something decidedly new. The rats in our street are big and ferocious, and Tom is not noted cither for energy or feline aggressiveness. Many times I had threatened to have him removed from this vale of tears unless he showed greater vigour in dealing with the rodents that were making serious inroads into the | hen-fruit, but 1 lie tearful entreaties of | Mary, aided and abetted by her soft- ' hearted mother, had contrived to post - | I pone the fate that hung over his head, j Now. at long last, it looked as if Tom I was beginning to justify his existence : | and my wife could not repress a triumph- j ant nolo in her voice, and observed in her clash for the front door: "I always said he was a good ratter." "One rat docs not make a cat, my dear," I replied, as I raced her down the front steps, "any more than one swallow makes a summer." My doubts about Tom returned when, on reaching the scene of action, we found that Mary in her innocence, had somewhat niis'-stated the position. Tom certainly had something in his mouth, which he was worrying with tremendous gusto, but it soon disclosed itself as a wretched bit of a mouse, which already ( seemed to have had all the life knocked out of its little grey body. Tom started to toss it up in the air. and catch it in i his mouth as it fell, and after watching this tame proceeding for a few moments,' I disgustedly observed to the wife: I "Any fool cat could do that. 1 suppose it was dead when he caught it." , This remark promised to start a lively argument for the edification of the neighbours, but the treat was averted by the arrival of Bruiser, the sturdy fox terrior, belonging to my next door neighbour. From displaying a languid interest in the proceedings across the way, Bruiser had ambled across to see what all the fuss was about. On spotting the object of Tom's attention, Bruiser promptly decided in his lordly way that he miglit as well finish the job. This high-handed proceeding promised to be ? completely successful, especially as at. f ordinary times, the "foxy" had only to 3 show his teeth, and Tom would fly in a mortal terror for the wash-house door. s This time, to everybody's surprise, s I Tom stood his ground, and assumed a 1 lighting attitude, arching his back ? and hissing like an escaping steam jet. h Bruiser looked as surprised as we did £ at this unwonted spectacle. He stopped v a little uncertainly, and then, as if he c remembered the one-sided result of pree vious encounters, in which Tom had int variably been put to flight, Bruiser c came on with a rush. Tom's back went :r up like a well-drawn bow. He spat c venomously, and as Bruiser reached for lC the mouse, he fastened his teeth into ,f the ear of his adversary, and amidst a terrific babel of howls, screeches and spluttcrings, started to viciously claw Bruiser's face. Five seconds was enough for Bruiser. With a series of unearthly howls, he shook himself free, and bolted for the fence with his tail between his , legs, Tom in hot pursuit. 'Smashing blindly into a magnificent hydrangea, which was my neighbour's special pride and joy, the panic-stricken terrier plunged under the house and disappeared, still yelping, into the darkened interior. Tom did not bother to continue the chase. Surveying the wrecked hydrangea, he almost seemed to smile, and with an air of supremo disdain, he proudly marched back and resumed possession of his prey, amidst the delighted shouts of the family. Even a staid and respectable parent "could scarce forebear to cheer." After the children had gone to bed, and the wife was busying herself with some knitting, I set out on some pretext or other, to look for Tom. He was y curled up in the wash-house on a pile of clothing for the morrow's washing, and drowsily blinked his eyes as I entered. In ordinary circumstances, he would have been unceremoniously sent out, but I felt, and I swear Tom realised too, that it was a state occasion. Under his approving gaze, I went back into the kitchen, took clown the milk-jug, and emptied the contents into a soup plate, undismayed by the thought of what the wife would say when supper-time came round. I took the plate, brimming over, back to where Tom lay, and set it before him. We went cofl'eeless to bed that evening, but the wife agreed that it had been worth it. MOTHER. "When I was but a little child, I foil. And mother kissed the place and made it well: Then spoke to mc in tones of strength and cheer— 'Be brave, my little one, and stop your tear.' And so from her I caught my strength, and smiled. This happened when I was a little child. "When I was grown n man, one day I foil. And mother kissed the place and made it well; Then spoke to mc in tones of cheer and strength— 'Be brave, my little one, there is no length Down which a man may fall ho may nut rise.' And so I found my courage in her eyes."