My Reason for Writing this Story 3 1 
food or shelter, and the poor things somehow live, 
or rather, they exist. Then when nobody wants 
them, as is always the case with kittens raised in 
this way, they are given to the milkman or to some 
farmer to be “ strayed ” out in the country, where 
no other fate awaits them but slow starvation. In 
a case like this, five cents’ worth of chloroform ad- 
ministered to the kittens at the time of birth, leav- 
ing only one alive for the mother cat, would have 
saved them from the terrible tortures of starvation. 
Then too some people who are very kind-hearted 
themselves, have cruel servants who look upon a 
pet in the household as an added burden, and who 
will utterly neglect, if not positively abuse them. 
Right here I am reminded of an incident told to 
mistress by a young lady who called one evening. 
She was doing some writing for a minister, and she 
said that almost daily her feelings were wrought up 
at sight of an old black cat, gaunt looking, half- 
starved, and with a broken leg, hobbling around in 
the yard. “ To-day,” said she, “ I had some milk 
left over from my lunch, and I asked the cook for 
the cat’s dish.” 
“ Cat’s dish ! the cat ain’t got no dish, throw it 
on the walk,” was the reply. “ Why,” continued 
