To my grandmother her various attitudes had
an undoubted meaning. If in a rainy day Beauty washed her face toward
the west, her observant mistress would exclaim: 'See, kitty is washing
her face to the west. It will clear.' Or, even when the sky was blue, if
Beauty turned eastward for her toilet, the comment would be: 'Kitty is
washing her face to the east. The wind must be getting "out" (from the
sea), and a storm brewing.' And when in the dusk of autumn or winter
evenings Beauty ran about the room, chasing her tail or frolicking with
her kittens instead of sleeping quietly by the fire as was her wont, my
grandmother would look up and say: 'Kitty is wild to-night. The wind
will blow hard before morning.' If I sometimes asked how she knew these
things, the reply would be, 'My mother told me when I was a little
girl.' Now her mother, my great-grandmother, was a distinguished
personage in my eyes, having been the daughter of Captain Jonathan
Prescott who commanded a company under Sir William Pepperell at the
siege of Louisburg and lost his life there; and I could not question the
wisdom of colonial times. Indeed, to this hour I have a lingering belief
that cats can foretell the weather.
"And what a mouser she was! Before her time we often heard the rats and
mice in the walls, but with her presence not one dared to peep, and
cupboard and pantry were unmolested. Now and then she carried her forays
to hedge and orchard, and I remember one sad summer twilight that saw
her bring in a slender brown bird which my grandmother said was the
cuckoo we had delighted to hear in the still mornings among the alders
by the river.
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