Things were going from bad to worse and I was becoming tired of my present life, but there did not seem to be any way out of it. When I went back to my dark alley I fell asleep, but tossed and turned and was very uneasy. At midnight I was aware of hearing hoarse voices whispering together; alert and listening I heard two men talking about "lifting some swag." I did not know what that was but kept still. One said that he would watch outside while the other forced a dining-room window.
"If the job is done quietly," said one, "we can get all the silver without waking the family." I then understood the expression, "It takes a thief to catch a thief," for after the milk and corned beef episodes I felt like a branded criminal. They started out to do their dishonest work and I followed, my velvet paws making no noise. They were so intent with watching out for policemen that they did not notice me and when they looked back I dodged behind trees or posts. I soon found that we were getting into a very refined neighborhood, for it had a wide street with a park between the sidewalks.
The men did not walk on the main street but resorted to the alley in the rear of the block. They finally stopped and looking up and down, cautiously unfastened the gate with a few twists, for it had been locked. They were now inside of an enclosure, surrounded by a high fence, and where the light did not shine upon this house as on some of the others. I sneaked in when the gate was opened and following in the darkness found myself under the coping watching one lift the other so that he could reach in and unlock a window. Slowly and quietly he raised the sash and stepped in while the man below watched, ready to give the alarm if anybody should come along. I immediately followed the burglar into the house.
Here indeed was a new experience, thought I, as I hid under the dining-room table and watched. My mind acted quickly and I decided to take a chance, run upstairs and give the alarm. Dodging out of the dining-room, I ran into the hall and swiftly up a long stairway and found the master And mistress sound asleep in a large room. I went up to the bed, gave the Bed clothes a quick tug, uttered a low cry and stepped back out of sight. The master jumped up exclaiming, "What was that?" At the same time he touched a button on the wall and flooded the house with light. He listened intently and hearing a noise downstairs rushed down. I followed in time to see the man jump out of the window, leaving on the floor a large sack, which was filled with silver.
The master rushed to the telephone and almost before one could turn around, several policemen were in the house. I heard him tell them about the strange cat who cried out and woke them up, saying that he wanted to find me and as I had saved the silver, he would keep me henceforth and give me a home. Hearing this made me happy, but I realized that such a beautiful house was no place for me, especially in my present condition, as I was more of a slum cat than one to grace such a position. I quietly slipped out into the night, feeling more hopeless and homeless than ever before.
Hungry and forlorn, wishing that I was someone's pet, I wandered along, looking at the fine houses, wishing that I had a home there, for I did not at the time really know what a "square meal" was like, nor did I know what a home meant. Neither a provision store nor a school is really a home. In fact I have heard of cats who slept on beds and some who had bassinets; who sat by open fires and dined on the fat of the land. What is more, during my recent wanderings, I met one of these aristocratic animals who had lost his way, and he told me great tales of wealth, what his folks did, how he went to the seashore every summer, even going in a motor car. Oh, how important he felt! He said that he slept in a basket lined with down, and, as he wore a very expensive collar, I had no reason to doubt him. He had roamed from home and I afterwards heard that a reward had been offered for him.
He was a regular "sissy" and cried and sniffled when he was obliged to stay out all night. I offered him some of my picked up food but he turned up his aristocratic nose and said that he always had liver for breakfast, cooked to order. Upon asking him what his name was, he proudly replied, "Lord Roberts." Two friends of mine (street cats) who were listening, turned aside to snicker, and when I looked fiercely around pretended that they were only sneezing. One ventured to ask him if he had his coat-of-arms engraved on his collar and the other offered to exchange visiting cards. He saw that they were making fun of him and it hurt his feelings, for I saw him turn away and wipe his eye with one paw, as he had evidently left his lace handkerchief at home. They stepped on his toes and pushed him about with the intention of picking a fight with him, but he had no fighting blood, so they finally let him alone. I tried to assist him to find his home, but the majesty of the law intervened, and he was carried away in the arms of a stalwart policeman who knew, probably, of the reward.
This incident opened my eyes to the possibility of a home and made me long for one, but my affairs became worse instead of better. I soon reached the lowest ebb of despair and if it had not been that I had only one remaining life, I should have been tempted to end my existence.
I was sitting down by the docks one day looking at the dirty green water, which, by the way, did not appeal to me for suicidal purposes, when I was accosted by a kind faced lady who held out her hand to me saying, "You poor homeless creature, come with me." Could it be possible that anyone wanted me? I could not believe my senses. She drew nearer. I crouched, as everyone who had spoken to me recently had either kicked or sworn at me or ordered me away in language more forcible than elegant. Consequently I was rather doubtful, not knowing whether the hand held out to me would strike or caress.
I looked into her face once more, and seeing peace and happiness there, allowed her to take me up gently and place a bag over my wasted body. She carried me in her arms to an electric car, which she entered. After we had gone some distance, she alighted at a quiet street and stopped before a sort of shop over which was a sign which read "Animal Rescue League." Oh, joy and happiness! A home at last. It was too good to be true. Once inside I was bathed with some queer smelling substance, fed in small amounts at a time, and put to bed in a comfortable clean place, in a row with a number of other cats.