Yes ... we had a fine run on the banks of the fortifications, and then we went into a shop.
Is that amusing?
TOBY-DOG Not often. There are a great many people crowded together. I’m immediately seized with the fear of losing Her, and I stick close to her heels, no matter what comes. Strange feet push and knock me about and step on my paws. I yelp but the skirts all around stifle my voice.... When we’re out of it, we both look as if we’d been shipwrecked....
May the gods preserve me from anything of the sort! Here, the moments have glided peacefully by. When She’s not in this house, there’s nothing to hinder me; I employ the time as my system of hygiene dictates. After my breakfast of rosy liver and milk, my kittenhood seems to come back to me; I’m filled with a foolish gayety. I go over to him. He’s rumpling big, blackish papers and welcomes me with a quiet smile; we loll on the same divan, and revel in a few idle moments together. Sometimes, with imperious paw, I tear the paper He holds like a screen between us. It always seems to me the most desirable—the one that crackles best. He cries out, and I throw myself on my back and wriggle with joy in a sort of horizontal dance, He calls “the dance of the bayadeer.” Then somehow, everything dwindles before my eyes, grows dim, and far away; I want to rise and go back to my cushion, but dreams already separate me from the world ... Ah! blessed hour when you and She disappear, when the house is at rest and takes a long breath. Soon I’m in the depths of a dark, sweet sleep; my ears alone keep watch and turn like sensitive antennas towards vague sounds of doors and bells ...
(At this moment someone rings. TOBY-DOG and KIKI-THE-DEMURE start and change their positions. The Cat, sitting, encircles himself with his fluffy tail. The Dog, in a sphinx-like attitude, lifts his head boldly.)
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (shrugging his shoulders)
That’s not the kitchen bell. Perhaps it’s caller.
TOBY-DOG, (with a bound)
What luck! They’ll have tea and cakes! Come on!! Sugar, sugar! Little cakes! Little cakes!!
To see ladies who shriek, and put gloved hands on my back—hands covered with dead skin?... ugh!
(Feminine voices are heard—Hers among them—and the clear tinkling of a little bell; then the door opens and a very diminutive toy terrier enters, alone. She’s black and tan, seems in love with herself, and comes forward with a mincing step.)