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37
Letters from a Cat
·
Helen Hunt Jackson
30
Your
affectionate
Pussy.
VI.
My
Dear
Helen:
I
will
begin
where
I
left
off
in
my
last
letter.
As
you
may
imagine,
I
did
not
get
any
sleep
that
night,
not
even
so
much
as
a
cat's
nap,
as
people
say,
though
how
cat's
naps
differ
from
men's
and
women's
naps,
I
don't
know.
I
shivered
all
night,
and
it
hurt
me
terribly
whenever
I
moved.
Early
in
the
morning
your
grandfather
came
downstairs,
and
when
he
saw
how
I
looked,
he
swore
again,
that
same
oath:
we
all
know
very
well
what
it
means
when
he
swears
in
that
way:
it
means
that
he
is
going
to
do
all
he
can
for
you,
and
is
so
sorry,
that
he
is
afraid
of
seeming
too
sorry.
Don't
you
remember
when
you
had
that
big
double
tooth
pulled
out,
and
he
gave
you
five
dollars,
how
he
swore
then?
Well,
he
took
me
up
in
his
arms,
and
carried
me
into
the
dining-room;
it
was
quite
cool;
there
was
a
nice
wood
fire
on
the
hearth,
and
Mary
was
setting
the
table
for
breakfast.
He
said
to
her
in
a
very
gruff
voice,
"Here
you,
Mary,
you
go
up
into
the
garret
and
bring
down
the
cradle."
Sick
as
I
was,
I
could
not
help
laughing
at
the
sight
of
her
face.
It
was
enough
to
make
any
cat
laugh.
"You
don't
ever
mean
to
say,
sir,
as
you're
going
to
put
that
cat
into
the
cradle."
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