I was at a farm-house once when some high holiday was being
celebrated. I don't remember what the occasion was, but it was
something festive, a May Day or Quarter Day, or something of that
sort, and they put a garland of flowers round the head of one of the
cows. Well, that absurd quadruped went about all day as perky as a
schoolgirl in a new frock; and when they took the wreath off she
became quite sulky, and they had to put it on again before she would
stand still to be milked. This is not a Percy anecdote. It is plain,
sober truth.

As for cats, they nearly equal human beings for vanity. I have known
a cat get up and walk out of the room on a remark derogatory to her
species being made by a visitor, while a neatly turned compliment will
set them purring for an hour.

I do like cats. They are so unconsciously amusing. There is such a
comic dignity about them, such a "How dare you!" "Go away, don't touch
me" sort of air. Now, there is nothing haughty about a dog. They are
"Hail, fellow, well met" with every Tom, Dick, or Harry that they come
across. When I meet a dog of my acquaintance I slap his head, call
him opprobrious epithets, and roll him over on his back; and there he
lies, gaping at me, and doesn't mind it a bit.

Fancy carrying on like that with a cat! Why, she would never speak to
you again as long as you lived. No, when you want to win the
approbation of a cat you must mind what you are about and work your
way carefully. If you don't know the cat, you had best begin by
saying, "Poor pussy." After which add "did 'ums" in a tone of
soothing sympathy. You don't know what you mean any more than the cat