Ch1
I want to write a story
Title- The Cat
Most people think that cat is an unintelligent animal, fond of ease and caring little for anything but mice and milk. But a cat has really more character than most human beings, and gets a great deal more satisfaction out of life.
He -or she - is an athlete, an acrobat and a grim fighter. All day long the cat loafs about the house, takes things easy and allows himself to be prestered by the attentions of the people in the house. To pass the time away he somtimes watches a mouse-hole for an hour or two - just to keep himself from dying of boredom. People get this idea that this sort of things is all that holds life for a cat. But watch him as the shades of evening fall. You can see the cat as he really is.
Ch2- When the family sits down to tea, the cat puts in an appearance to get his share. He purns noisily and rubs himself against the legs of the family members. If there is a guest at the table the cat is particularly civil to him, because the guest is likely to have the best of what is offered. Sometimes, instead of giving him something to eat the guest stoops down and strokes the cat, and says, "Poor pussy! Poor pussy!" The cat soon tires of that. He puts up his claw and quitely but firmly rakes the guest in the leg. "Ow!" says the guest," The cat stuck his claws into me! The delighted family remarks, "Isn't it sweet of him? Isn't he intelligent? He wants you to give him something to eat."
The guest dares not do what he would like to do - kick the cat out of the window. So, with tears of rage and pain in his eyes, he affects to be very much amused, ans sorts out a bit of fish from his plate and hands it down. The cat gingerly receives it, with a look in his eyes that says, "Another time, my friend, you won't be so slow to understand." He purns as he retires to a safe distance from the guest's boot before eating his food.
Ch3- When the family has finished tea, and gathers round the fire, the cat casually goes out of the room. True life now beings for him. He saunters down his own backyard, springs to the top of the fence, drops lightly down to the other side. He trots across and skips to the roof of an empty shed. His movement becomes lithe and pamtherlike. He looks keenly from side to side and moves noiselessly, for he has so many enemies - dogs and small boys with stones.
On top of the shed, the cat arches, the cat arches his back and rakes his claws once or twice through the soft bark of the old roof. He strtched himself a few times to see if every muacle is in full working order. Then, drooping his head nearly to his pawa, he sends across a call to his kindred. Before long they come, gliding, graceful shadows. No longer are they the meek creatures who an hourbago were mewing for fish and milk. They are now grim fighters.
Just think how much more he gets out his life than you do out of yours! And the sport's they have, too! As they get older they go in for sport to the suburban backyards. These backyards that are dull to us, are to them hunting grounds where they have more gallant adventure than King Arthur's knights ever had.
It is always spoken as a reproach against cats that they are more fond of their home than of the people in it. Naturally, the cat doesn't like to leave his country, the land where all his friends are, and where he knows every landmark. Exiled in a new land, he would have to learn a new geography. So, when the family moves, the cat, if allowed, will stay at the old house and attach himself to the new tenants. He will give them the privilege of boarding him while he enjoys life in his own way.