CATS FOR THE COUNTRY?

Wanganui Chronicle, 13 March 1902, Page 1

CATS FOR THE COUNTRY?

"Whathaa become of the cat?" is a question heard dolorously just now in many households that owned a petted animal. It is a curious result of the acclimatisation of rabbits that we should begin to dread the utter disappearance of the domestic cat in towns. Puss, for ker own sweet sake, had better never have disoovered to the world her value in rabbit extinction. Oats axe no longer, -like poems and other excellent things, "a drug in the market." They bear, on the contraiy, the not insignificant price of a shilling apiece, and are liable at any moment to be'transported from ease and luxury, the hearth-side and the frequent meal-time, to a condition only rightly to be compared with that of the owner of in-

hei'ited millions suddenly brought down to "sixpence a, day, and earn it." One might guess the medium of such reverses from the number of small boys who cany about mysterious bags. "How many have you got?" "Three tabbies and a black" ; is.the sort of greeting these youths exchange. Fortunately. Christchureh. has had a good many cats to spare. The conscientious collector (if the adjective can ever be used in such connection^ contents himself with inquiring for superfluous animals, or annexing those of the Cassius type who, having "a lean and hungry look," may probably gain by translation to happy hunting grounds amongst the rabbits of the hills. But there is certainly a big temptation to< annex also the better-class cat, especially as the more domesticated and mild she is the easier she is to catch. There, is, therefore, good reason to fear for any cat out of it's owner's sight. It may comfort the public to hear that at headquarters every facility is given enquirers after disappeared pets to examine the takings, and reclaim a misappropriated treasure. Even so, the fate of many of these gentler town creatures cast out on the world must go near to making a cruelty-to-animals case. Cats are hardly in good" luck just now. In England, this year of ermine, a white cat can scarcely dare call her skin her own; while in New Zealand we are summoning the most helpless and irresponsible animal to the front in one of the colony's most desperate petty wars. But there is somebody who is perfectly happy. The Christchureh small boy is paid to send our cats to the country ; then we shall pay him, in their absence, to kill the town rats. The small boy certainly profits all along the line.