NINE LUCKY LIVES.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 278, 24 November 1938, Page 20

NINE LUCKY LIVES.

i CATS £400 LEGACY. * WINKY WHISKERS AT PET HAVEN. ; t ! ENJOYS A SIMPLE DIET. I J (By JOSEPH 11. ADAMS.) SYR ALL'S E (Now York). Here's one en t Hint, can look at a kin?. And never 1 >;it ;iri eyelash. He's Winky Whiskers, ii feline economic royalist, who is assure<l of not one abundant life hut nine of them through a legacy of £400 left for his care. And he'.s fretting it at Wheel's I'et Haven here. i Six months ago Winkv Whiskers was brought here from New V»rk city, where ; his mistress. Mrs. M. .1. M. Lawrence, had •riven him loving care until her death and had set aside in her will more than ample funds for his keep after siie had passed on. He' was brought here by Professor and .Mrs. Nelson t'. Brown, friends of Mrs. Lawrence, who had spoken* of the haven when Mrs. La.vrence was wondering about the future of the cat. Winky Whiskers received the Press in I lift air-conditioned suite liijjh above the city. He appeared somewhat liat as lie perched on the top of his boudoir. He looked snooty, too. with bis white flu(fy collar and his sleek, black, almost formal coat. In a word, lie looked a* if he were in the the dough. I Afraid of Camera. When the photographer approached him. he seemed to recoil. But that may have been due to a complex developed from being pestered by the candid camera bounds of (lotliam. Or perhaps an appointment should have been made. You can't just go busting in on such a cat. Even the Winky Whiskers' ancestors were an indefinite and heterogeneous lot. Mrs. Adlai B. Wheel assured Winkv Whiskers, however, that the publicity would be dignified, and he relaxed.

"Heck." he said. "1 thought maybe these guvs were from tho taldoids or the Subway Kxpress." He winked a yellow eye as lie got that one off. "What can I d<> for you. gentlemen?" "How do you like it up here in the hinterland ?"' "O.K. now," said Winkv Whiskers, grooming liis fluffy neckpiece with a pink tongue. "But the first few weeks I couldn't sleep a wink. The silence was positively deafening." He paused to reflect a moment. "You know, after a guv has lived in a New York hotel room, listening to the roar of the Big Town, it's quite a change to these —what do you call, 'em? — bucolic —yeah, bucolic surroundings." "What kind of chow do you get?" lie was asked. "Hummingbird's tongue on toast, maybe 1" "No. sir." said Winkv Whiskers. "I'm not looking for any dainties. Think I valuta get gout or something? And shorten my days? With all the comfort I got. Xo, sir, Mrs. Wheel feeds me hamburger, salmon, a little liver and some milk. Once a day. And it's all I want. And I enjoy it. It's the simple life. No .halliai' aifuiul nights. You can't beat it." "And how do you like your new neighbours?" "Swell," said Winky Whisker*, glancing down the row of air-conditioned cubicles similar to hi* own. "There's a great couple up there ahead. A Seottie dog and a Persian eat. Boy; do they get along swell. Although they tell me old Angus does chisel in on the grub when he gets a chance. You know, the old Scotch stuff." Skunk is Mice Guy. He glanced around the 135 acre* of the haven, with its naturally rugged terrain, its gully and its creek, and spoke of the Chinese pheasants, the raccoons, the lone billy-goat, the guinea pigs and the assorted dogs in the kennels, and opined that the company was excellent and the surroundings picturesque. "I was a little bit leery at first," said Winky Whiskers, "about that black and white critter a couple of doors away. I thought he was a poor relation from Harlem. Then I found out he was a skunk, and right away I was thinking of investing a few bucks in a gas mask or moving to a swankier spot. But I had him wrong. He's been de-atomised or something, and he's really a nice guy when you get to know him." Winky Whiskers was then taken from his quarters by Mrs. Wheel and asked to look at the birdie, hut not to try to sample it. A fellow of his means, he was reminded, didn't have to do such a thing. He could have quail if h« wished. And so he was photographed and returned to his comfortable quarters. "What a chance for a break!" he remarked. "But what a sucker I'd be to do it! Why, they tell me things are so tough and garbage cans so empty cats are walking into dog kennels and giving themselves up. I know when I'm well off. "And, say," he called as the Press departed, "if you see any of 'em, tell 'em to come up some night and well split a goldfish or two." —N.A.N.A.