Letters from a Cat

"Kill my Pussy!" I exclaimed, and burst out crying, so loud and so hard that I think my mother was frightened; for she said quickly:-- "Never mind, dear; it shall not be done, unless it is necessary. You would not want Pussy to live, if she were very uncomfortable all the time." "She isn't uncomfortable," I cried; "she is only sleepy. If people would let her alone, she would sleep all day. It would be awful to kill her. You might as well kill me!" After that, I kept a very close eye on Pussy; and I carried her up to bed with me every night for a long time. But Pussy's days were numbered. One morning, before I was up, my mamma came into my room, and sat down on the edge of my bed. "Helen," she said, "I have something to tell you which will make you feel very badly; but I hope you will be a good little girl, and not make mamma unhappy about it. You know your papa and mamma always do what they think is the very best thing." "What is it, mamma?" I asked, feeling very much frightened, but never thinking of Pussy. "You will never see your Pussy any more," she replied. "She is dead." "Oh, where is she?" I cried. "What killed her? Won't she come to life again?" "No," said my mother; "she is drowned." Then I knew what had happened. "Who did it?" was all I said. "Cousin Josiah," she replied; "and he took great care that Pussy did not suffer at all. She sank to the bottom instantly."