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37
Letters from a Cat
·
Helen Hunt Jackson
16
When
I
saw
her
coming
I
felt
sure
that
she
and
Mary
meant
to
kill
me,
while
you
were
all
away;
so
I
jumped
down
out
of
the
tree,
and
split
my
best
claw
in
my
hurry,
and
ran
off
into
Baker's
Grove,
and
stayed
there
all
the
rest
of
the
day,
in
dreadful
misery
from
cold
and
hunger.
There
was
some
snow
in
the
hollows,
and
I
wet
my
feet,
which
always
makes
me
feel
wretchedly;
and
I
could
not
find
any
thing
to
eat
except
a
thin
dried-up
old
mole.
They
are
never
good
in
the
spring.
Really,
nobody
does
know
what
hard
lives
we
cats
lead,
even
the
luckiest
of
us!
After
dark,
I
went
home;
but
Mary
had
fastened
up
every
door,
even
the
little
one
into
the
back
shed.
So
I
had
to
jump
into
the
cellar
window,
which
is
a
thing
I
never
like
to
do
since
I
got
that
bad
sprain
in
my
shoulder
from
coming
down
on
the
edge
of
a
milk-pan.
I
crept
up
to
the
head
of
the
kitchen
stairs,
as
still
as
a
mouse,
if
I'm
any
judge,
and
listened
there
for
a
long
time,
to
try
and
make
out,
from
Mary's
talk
with
the
Irishwoman,
what
they
were
planning
to
do.
But
I
never
could
understand
Irish,
and
although
I
listened
till
I
had
cramps
in
all
my
legs,
from
being
so
long
in
one
position,
I
was
no
wiser.
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