It was seated on the sugar-basin, just as the
Captain had described it. The torn ear, the jerking tail, the bright
eyes--all were there.
If this story falls into the paws of any young cat who wishes to avoid
the mortifications which have embittered my favoured existence, let me
warn him to remember that a creature who has lived on friendly terms
with human beings cannot be judged by common rules. Many a mouse's eye
as bright as this one had I seen, but hitherto never one that did not
paralyze before my own.
He looked at me--I looked at him. His tail jerked--mine responded. Our
whiskers twitched--joy filled my brain to intoxication--I crept--I
crouched--I sprang--
He was not spell-bound--he did not even run away. With a cool twinkle of
that hateful eye, and one twitch of the ragged ear, he just overbalanced
the silver sugar-pot and dropped to the ground, the basin and sugar
falling on the top of him with a crash which made me start against my
will. I think that start just baulked the lightning flash of my second
leap, and he was gone--absolutely gone. To add insult to injury, my
master ran in from his bedroom and shouted--"Stealing, Toots? confound
you, you've knocked down my sugar-pot," and threw both his hair-brushes
at me.
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