Part I Chapter 10 Doctor Dolittle's Return by Hugh Lofting
THE DOLITTLE HOUSEHOLD REVOLUTION
I found that the Doctor had given me a hard job when he told me not to let the other animals know about the cat. That same night I sneaked off quietly by myself and opened up the crate to feed her. I suppose I had expected to find an ordinary cat. But there was nothing ordinary about her. She had a long, thin, snaky sort of body and long thin legs—something like the Indian cheetah. And she was the wildest creature I had ever seen.
Most likely she had thought it was the Doctor coming to see her when I started to undo the wrapping on her cage. But when she saw a strange human looking in at her she bounded away from me and cowered, snarling, in a corner. I saw it was no use trying to coax her in that state of fear. I would have to let her get used to me gradually. So I put the bowl of milk down inside and closed up her crate. Soon I heard her lapping up the food hungrily and I tiptoed quietly away.
I thought it best to consult with Polynesia. I took her aside where we could talk without being heard.
"Listen, Polynesia," I said, "you know about this cat?"
She jumped as though I had stuck a pin in her.
"Young man," she said severely, "if you wish to remain a friend of mine don't ever speak of that animal by the usual word. Those creatures— well, just call it It!"
"Very well, Polynesia," I said, "we'll call her It—No, let's call her Itty, shall we?"
"Itty?" muttered the parrot with a frown—"Itty? Kitty?—Pity would be better. Oh, well, have it your own way."
And from that time on the cat was called Itty.
"You see, Polynesia," I said, "this cat—"
"Don't use that word!" she screamed. "It gets me all fluffed up."
"Excuse me," I went on. "But Itty has to be fed on the quiet for the present. The Doctor doesn't want the other animals to know about her until he can tell them himself. But you can understand it isn't going to be easy for me to get meals to her. Now what I was going to ask you to do is this: when I want to go and give—er—Itty food, I'll make a sign to you. Then you lead the other animals off somewhere or keep them busy till I get back, see?"
The parrot agreed she would do this. And for a while the plan worked all right. Every day when I wanted to take milk to the cat Polynesia would suggest to the animals that they should all go with her to see how the lettuce was coming up in the kitchen garden, or something like that. And the coast would be left clear for me to attend to Itty.
The cat began gradually to get used to my visits, and when she saw that I meant to do her no more harm than to bring her milk she actually became friendly in a strange awkward way.
However, the household finally got suspicious. Maybe Polynesia's excuses for getting them out of the way began to grow stale. Anyway, Gub-Gub asked me one evening what was the reason for my disappearing so mysteriously at the same hour every day. Then Too-Too, that bird with the keenest ears in the world, remarked that she had heard strange unearthly noises in the attic. (The attic was where I had stored the Doctor's moon baggage.) And finally Jip—who had been decorated with a golden dog collar for his cleverness in smelling—said he had sniffed a new queer scent on the upper stairs.
I began to get uncomfortable. I glanced across at Polynesia to see if I would get any help from her. But the old rascal was gazing up at the ceiling, humming a Danish sea song to herself, pretending not to hear a word of the conversation. Chee-Chee, the only other one in the secret, was frightfully busy clearing up the hearth, in hopes, no doubt, that he wouldn't be asked any questions. The white mouse was watching, silent, from the mantelpiece, his big pink eyes wide open with curiosity. I heard Dab-Dab through the open door to the pantry, drying dishes at the sink. I got more uncomfortable still.
"Tell me, Tommy," said Jip, "what's in all that baggage the Doctor brought down from the moon?"
"Oh—er—plants," I said, "moon plants, and seeds—no end of seeds, Jip; things the Doctor wants to try out down here on the earth to see how they'll do."
"But this wasn't any plant smell which I caught," said Jip. "It was something quite different."
"What was it like?" asked Too-Too.
"Seemed like an animal," said the dog.
"What kind of an animal?" asked the white mouse.
"I couldn't quite make out," said Jip. "It was very queer. It set the hair on my back all tingling. And I couldn't understand why. Is there nothing else but plants in that baggage, Tommy?"
For a long minute I remained silent while all the animals watched me, waiting for an answer. At last Polynesia said,
"Oh, you might as well tell them, Tommy. They're bound to know sooner or later."
"Very well, then," I said. "The Doctor had asked me not to say anything for the present. But I see it can't be helped. There's a cat in the baggage."
Polynesia squawked at the hated word. Jip jumped as though he'd been shot. Too-Too let out a long low whistle. Dab-Dab in the pantry dropped a plate on the floor where it broke with a loud crash—the first time she had ever done such a thing in her life. Gub-Gub grunted with disgust. As for the white mouse, he uttered one piercing squeal and fainted dead away on the mantelpiece. I jumped up and dashed a teaspoonful of water in his face. He came to immediately.
"Gracious!" he gasped. "Such a shock!"
"What," I asked, "the water?"
"No," said he, "the cat. Oh, how could he? How could the Doctor have done it?"
"The place will never be the same again," groaned Too-Too.
"Oh, me, oh, my!" wailed Gub-Gub, shaking his head sadly. "How awful!"
Dab-Dab stood in the pantry doorway, shaking with sobs. "It can't be true," she kept saying; "it just can't be true."
"A cat!" muttered Jip. "I should have known! Nothing else could have made my spine tingle like that but the smell of a cat. Gosh! I'll chase her off the place."
Then they all broke out together in a general uproar. Some were for going away at once, leaving the beloved home they had enjoyed so long. Some begged to be allowed to see the Doctor and ask him to send the animal away. Others, like Jip, swore they would drive her out. Panic, pandemonium and bedlam broke loose in the kitchen.
"Stop it!" I cried at last. "Stop it! Now listen to me, all of you. You're just making a lot of fuss without knowing what you're talking about. You ought to know the Doctor well enough by now to be sure he would not bring anything here which will make any of you unhappy. I admit I'm not fond of cats in a general way myself—neither is Polynesia. But this cat is different. It's a moon cat. It may have all sorts of new ideas on cat behaviour. It may have messages for us. The Doctor is fond of it. He wants to study it."
"But, Tommy," squeaked the white mouse, "our lives won't be safe for a moment."
"Please be quiet, Whitey," I said sharply. "How many times have you heard John Dolittle say, 'Man, as a race, is the most selfish of all creatures'?"
"There's nothing as selfish as a cat," put in Jip with a growl.
"How often," I went on, "have you heard him railing against people who are for ever spouting about glorious freedom while they deny it to animals? Are you going to be like that? You haven't met this cat. You know nothing about her. And yet you all start squawking like a lot of day-old chicks as soon as I mention her."
"She'll have to wear a bell—she'll have to!" cried Dab-Dab. "Cats when they come sneaking up in the dark just give me the heebee-jeebees. I couldn't stand it. I'd have to leave home—after all these years!"
She began to weep again.
"Calm yourself, Dab-Dab," I said, "please! At least I expected some sense from you." I turned to the others. "This cat is a sportsman, every one must give her that credit. She trusted the Doctor enough to ask to be brought down to the earth. Which of you would have the courage, if a strange man came, down from the moon, to ask to be taken away from this world and planted on another you had never seen? Answer me that."
Rather to my surprise, my long high-sounding speech seemed to have quite an effect on them. When I ended there was a thoughtful silence. Presently Jip said quietly,
"Humph! You're right, Tommy. That certainly was plucky. She took a big gamble."
"Now I'm going to ask you all," I said, "for the Doctor's sake, to treat this cat with kindness and consideration. You haven't got to like her if you can't. But at least let us be polite and fair to her."
"Well," said Dab-Dab with a sigh, "I hope it will work out all right. But if she goes and has kittens in my linen cupboard I'll fly south with the first flock of wild ducks that passes over the garden, as sure as shooting!"
"Don't worry," I said. "Leave her to the Doctor. He'll know how to manage her. I can't even talk her language yet. She is still very shy and wild. But she'll fit in all right, once she gets used to us all."
Little Chee-Chee the monkey, squatting by the hearth, spoke up for the first time.
"She's smart," he said, "a bit mysterious and queer—and independent as the dickens too—but mighty clever. Polynesia wouldn't bother to learn her funny language. But I picked up a few words of it."
"And another thing," I said, "you need have no fears about her slaughtering other creatures. She has promised the Doctor not to kill birds and"—I glanced up at Whitey on the mantelpiece—"not to eat mice."
"What's her name?" asked Gub-Gub.
"Her name is Itty," I said.
"Humph!" murmured the white mouse thoughtfully. "Itty, eh? Itty—Pretty!"
"Are you trying to make up poetry, Whitey?" asked Gub-Gub.
"Oh, no," said the white mouse, airily twirling his whiskers. "That's just called doggerel."
"Whattere??" barked Jip in disgust.
"Doggerel," said the white mouse.
"Cat-and-doggerel, I'd call it," grunted Gub-Gub.
And they all giggled and went off to bed in a much better mood than I had hoped for.