A CAT SITTING BY THE FIRE

Southland Times, Issue 21073, 3 May 1930, Page 22

A CAT SITTING BY THE FIRE

—First Prize—

A great log fire blazed in the hearth. In front of it, on the carpet, sat handsome Poodles. He really was a beauty! His long,' silky fur was a light, golden brown shade, streaked with pure white. His bushy tail swished to and fro; and, sometimes when bright sparks flew up the chimney, he blinked and became very alert, starting forward, and then going back to his former position. Soon he would cease staring so earnestly into the flames as if he saw pictures there, and would lazily lie down on the carpet. He would attempt to sleep, but at the slightest sound lie roused himself and was in his sitting posture in a moment. I wonder what he thought of sitting there. Perhaps he was really a handsome Fairy Prince, changed into a ■ mere cat by some wicked ogre. His sad expression meant, perhaps, that he despaired of ever seeing his Fairy Princess who was faithfully waiting for him. Or, may be, he was once some rare bird with wonderful plumage; and, because he killed a certain rat, an old, cruel witch had cast her spell over him. Whatever his thoughts were, they made one realize what beautiful, expressive eyes he had. Suddenly, as a piece of wood snapped in the fire, Poodles stood up, in truth, as if the spell had broken; but next moment, as having realized his mistake, he lay restlessly down again. The firelight flickered round the walls of the room, for the light was off. It sparkled in Poodles’ fur, making it shine like gold or dancing sunbeams. Poodles was asleep. How peaceful he looked, and how contented. He slept on, purring softly* On, on through the night, and still Poodles slept; the fire burned low, and soon only red embers remained. —5/- and 4 marks to Cousin Hazel Stewart (15), 270 Ythan street, Invercargill. TOBBY. —Second Prize— There were the logs in the fire, crackling and spitting out their fury, at the occupants of the room as though they had committed some crime; there was a gale outside, howling round the corners of the building, like some fearsome monster, and there was Tobby (the cat) sitting on the carpet, but he did not seem to notice the doings of everything around him. He was lost in a reverie, in which (probably) he and a mouse had a most exciting struggle, ending with Tobby as the victor (of course!). Poor mouse! ‘ Yes, the cat sat there, with his tail swaying from side to side, and sometimes lifting upwards, and then striking the carpet with vigorous thumps as the dreamcombat became more exciting. His ears were lying back on his head and one could tell that he was not sleeping peacefully. His very fur seemed to be stiff with exhilaration! Such a state he was in, when suddenly one of the logs fell into the hearth with such a noise that Tobby started up with a most indignant “Meow!” The next minute he was purring and meowing so pleadingly, for, was that not his mistress coming to turn him out of doors? Yes, it was, and Tobby departed for the night in body only, for long afterwards we could hear him exercising his voice in a meowing competition with the neighbour’s cat. —2/6 and 3 marks to Cousin Jeannie Braid (13), Lumsden.

—Highly Commended. —• One cold winter’s day I came upon pussy sitting in front of the fire. Fluffy, as we called her, was sitting on the fur rug, in front of a blazing fire. One, would have thought by her attitude, that fur rugs, were made for pussies only. She was a Persian cat, with green eyes; that glittered like the moon on cold frosty nights. Her whiskers touched with grey, had become a resting place for flies. Fluffy also possessed a black silken coat of fur, and when she purred she was a delightful pussy to hug. This long, fluffy hair, was tinted with puffs of white here and there, while a pretty white ribbon with a bell on it, hung around her neck. Just as I watched, a mouse rushed past, and 1 was surprised to see pussy sit up, give a squeal and make a dash for the retreating mouse. Her long fluffy tail now twice its size flared up behind her in the fading light of the fire, and her green eyes glittered dangerously. The ears went back and lay on her head with the two front paws pushed out. Her hind legs came one behind the other which gave one the feeling of alertness. The fire sent a warm glow on Fluffy’s fur as she returned to the rug in front of the fire. Once more settling down the eyes so wakeful before slowly closed, and the ears drooped to their formal position, while her tail lay like a mat on the floor. I went over and gave her a squeeze, then left the room. —2 marks to Cousin Betty McDonald (13), 417 Elle^Road, South Invercargill. ■ —Highly Commended. — In an old fashioned cottage near a prattling river there lived an old woman and her black cat Felix. One cold frosty night in winter her cat lay stretched out in front of the fire. There he lay quite unconcerned. All the time he was scratching and scratching himself. Now and then he would give a little purr. Sometimes, thinking he saw a mouse he would jump up in amazement and then again lie down. He lies fully stretched out and while he is sleeping his tongue is hanging out. When he is stretched out the underneath part of him is a blacky white. Some times he lies on the hearth and has his glossy back against the range. In the winter nights when the nights are cold the little cat. lay lazily out in front of the fire enjoying the warmth of it. Some night when it is in a playful mood it rolled over on its back and enjoyed itself. When the cat rolls it kicks its feet in the air. Sometimes when the old woman lets her ball of wool fall Felix will have a good time of catching it in his claws then he lets it roll along the ground. Felix sits on the mat in front of the fire and licks himself but not very often. —2 marks to Cousin Noreen Dicks (9), 122 O’Hara. Street, South Invercargill. -—Commended. — Near the bright glowing fire lay a black Persian cat with one eye open to see what was going on around him. This stealthylooking cat was about sixteen inches in length and about as fat as the fattest dog. Just below the chin was a little patch of white hairs, that was not any bigger than a sixpence. Its two front legs were also black with white on the paws, which were stretched out at full length on the carpet. The two back legs which as you know were tucked under him so as the colour of them was not noticeable. Its tail a thin like worm of a shape, was spread flat on the floor, but now and then would move it to and fro, like a small boat on an ocean. After looking at the persian cat’s eyes carefully you can recognize them as a deep green, which are often covered by the broad, black eye-lashes. These eyes arc often used at night, looking for his enemies, that generally come out at night in search for food. This enemy is the most harmless little creature—the mouse as you would think, but sometimes it can do damage by making holes in the wall of your house. The cat’s ears which' are upright on his head, listening to the tiniest of noises, are as smooth as velvet. Its eight whiskers which are attached near its mouth are as white as snow, and about four or six inches long. The cat does not use the whiskers as often as his eyes, but sometimes they are what the cat needs most of all. Of course the cat has sixteen whiskers, but I have just told you about the eight on one side, and perhaps has more still. —1 mark to Cousin Jean Hunter, (14) Ohai, —Commended. — A black cat with white paws slept in front of the fire in an old kitchen. It was the Story Girl’s (the cook) cat. A door opened and in came a little girl, who was about three years old. The cat lifted its round head, revealing a white nose and flashing, green eyes. With a low “mai-ow,” it stood up. The little girl toddled forward, and stooped to pick it up, but the cat, with a fierce snarl, scratched the little girl, making her scream so loudly that, the Cook came running to (he rescue. After hearing the story she said to her cat, “You are a naughty, cruel, and unruly cat.” —1 mark to Cousin Nancy Stevens (12) Otapiri, Balfour.

—Highly Commended. —■ “Me-ow-me-ow. Let me in. ’Tis so cold,” cried pussy outside the kitchen door. Mary arose from her seat beside the fire. '‘Poor pussy,” she said, “why should he be left outside while we are in here enjoying ourselves. May I let him, mother?’’ “Yes dear. Put him in the sitting room all by himself.” Mary opened the door. What she saw was a poor bedraggled cat with its fur all wet and its tail drooping. She carried pussy carefully to the silting room and deposited him on the hearth rug in front of a roaring fire. She went away but very soon returned with a saucer of milk. Pussy was by now purring contentedly. He was turning slowly round drying his fur. After he had done this he'sat very still purring extra loudly and, as Mary said, “thinking of the difference between a fire and a cold stone step 1” The green slits in pussy’s eyes grew narrower and narrower until he fell asleep. The firelight played on his fur making it shine and glisten. The gathering dusk filled the room with eerie shadows, still pussy slept on, making up for the long, cold nights that he could not sleep. The fire burned lower and lower until there were only a few embers left when suddenly Mary came in with a shovel of coal. “Why puss, we had forgotten you were here. Had a good sleep dear?” This noise of course woke pussy and, as if in answer to Mary’s question he gave a tiny “Me-ow.” He stood up on the mat, arching his back and stretching his legs. Mary could not help it but she just took pussy up in her arms and gave him one big squeeze then put him down to sleep through the night—■ in the sitting room. —2 marks to Cousin Nola Mitchel (12), 41 Nelson street, Enwood. ■—Commended. — The wind howled round the weather-beat-en cabin; while inside sat an old man with his only pet—a cat —round a blazing log fire. Now let us look at the cat as it sits there. Its glossy silver grey coat shining; long shaggy ears; a tail that's wagging; and eyes that are watching worshippingly. Is the cat enjoying the fire? Il may be; but it is also thinking. It may be thinking of the poor rough beii he has to lie on, or more perhaps of the food it is given. But I think of the happy times it spent with his brothers and sisters when he was quite young. Oh! how he must look upon those days with pleasure. The old man stirred the fire, and then cast a glance at the cat. Poor pussy lifts up his head and with a look of sorow makes his way out. —1 mark to Cousin Dulcie Taylor Bell (14), Bayswater H.D. Otautau. —Commended. — How good it is to be able to sit in comfort by the cosy, blazing fire, after a hard day’s work catching mice! I became very wet to-day, while I was roaming on one of my adventures, and, when 1 returned, my mistress spanked me because I had gone so far from home. I understood her to say that, it was raining outside, and that I would have to sit by the fire to dry my pretty clean coat. So that is why I am here. My last mistress was not nearly so kind as this one, as she used to make me sleep outside, and I had to find .my own meals; but here, I think it must be something like the cat’s paradise, that mother used to talk about, where one has all the needs of a cat, and where, if you have been really good, you get extra special mice to eat, and you don’t even have to catch them yourself! My! But this fire is comforting! 1 shall just tuck my front paw.s under my chin and snuggle down for another half hour. It makes me think of the nice home mother had for us before she was poisoned by that angry farmer who lived next door to us. Then my other sisters and brothers and I had to find homes for ourself. I had almost given up hope when along came my present mistress, and she made a new' life for me. Now my coat is nearly dry, I think, but hush! What is that? Ah! I thought so, my mistress coming to put me to bed. Listen to her singing:— “Polished sides so nice and fat, How I love my old black cat, Sitting so cosy, close to the fire.” Good-night, everyone, and sweet dreams! —1 mark to Cousin Jean Nichol (14) 136 Clyde street, Invercargill. ■—Commended.— Granny is a dear old cat, and she does love the fireside. She is now perched on the arm of Dad’s chair, with tail hanging down, and gazing into Dad’s face. She is just waiting for Dad to say “Well Granny,” and then she will stretch out her paws, rise and rub around Dad's chin. We call her an “Old Spooner.” Her nose has two scratches and one on her ear. That was done by Face-ache; he gets jealous if Granny gets more fuss made of her than he does. Granny is black and white and keeps her coat nice and clean. Now she lies stretched out on the rug, enjoying the heat and is purring a sweet song of contentment.

Soon she will be sound asleep, and we just leave her by the fire all night. If Granny wants outside she goes out through the open windows. —1 mark to Cousin Margaret Macarthur (11) Ohai.