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in a half-empty ash barrel. There I settled down 

 on the soft ashes and slept until morning. 



Those were wretched days that followed. I 

 learned how hard life can be for a homeless cat. 

 I learned what it was to be chased and stoned 

 by cruel boys ; to have dogs run after one, and to 

 barely escape their teeth by slipping under an 

 alley gate ; to be scorned and starved and driven 

 from one place to another. Still, I managed to live. 

 I would find a bit to eat here and there, in the 

 street or in back yards. 



Sometimes, as I hobbled along with my lame 

 foot, I would see through open windows and doors 

 other and happier cats than I, — sleek, well-fed Tab- 

 bies or Tommies. Sometimes children would be 

 playing with them. I longed to have a home too, 

 but who would give house room to a cat like me, — 

 ugly, lean, dirty, and lame ? 



After a while I came to be known in the alley 

 where I lived. The people there called me Lim- 

 pety. Sometimes they threw me a scrap of bread 

 or a bone, but no one would take me in. 



At last came winter, hardest of all. Everything 

 was frozen. I do not like to think of that time 

 even now. 



