They are given a hearty
breakfast as soon as the kitchen fire is started in the morning. This
theoretically lasts them until five. I say theoretically, because if
they wake from their invariable naps at one, and smell lunch, they
individually wheedle some one into feeding them. But this is only
individually. Collectively they are fed at five.
They are the most methodical creatures in the world. They go to bed
regularly at night when the family does. They are waiting in the kitchen
for breakfast when the fire is started in the morning. Then they go out
of doors and play, or hunt, or ruminate until ten o'clock, when they
come in, seek their favorite resting-places, and sleep until four.
Evidently, from four to five is a play hour, and the one who wakes first
is expected to stir up the others. But at exactly five, no matter where
they may have strayed to, every one of the three, five, or seven (as the
number may happen to be) will be sitting in his own particular place in
the kitchen, waiting with patient eagerness for supper. For each has a
particular place for eating, just as bigger folk have their places at
the dining table. Thomas Erastus sits in a corner; the space under the
table is reserved especially for Jane. Pompanita is at his mistress's
feet, and Lady Betty, the Angora, bounds to her shoulder when their meat
appears. Their table manners are quite irreproachable also. It is
considered quite unpardonable to snatch at another's piece of meat, and
a breach of the best cat-etiquette to show impatience while another is
being fed.
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