Djibi

by Felix Salten

  Her friendship with the teacher grew and deepened daily, and her relations with Tasso, the big Airedale, were also amicable.

  The cold had driven Tasso into the house. He lay in front of the fire and stared into the flames.

  No sooner had Djibi gotten friendly with Tasso than she began to tyrannize him.

  When it was time to go to bed in the evening, she cuddled into Tasso’s flanks. But during the night she kicked and wriggled until she had the rug to herself.

  When he sat in front of the fire she immediately settled down between his front legs. If, growing sleepy, he wanted to rest his head on his paws, he was reminded by a resounding slap from Djibi to keep his head up, which he did good-naturedly.

  The winter passed slowly.

  The dog and the cat slept a great deal.

  The teacher had no trouble with his pets.

  When the spring’s mild winds began to blow, tomcats started to call and pay their court to Djibi. They quarreled and howled until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes they indulged in the most violent and embittered fights.

  Djibi was excited; she wanted to get out. The teacher had no intention of stopping her.

  Her appearance increased the combatants’ heat, and for several nights stormy scenes took place.

  The tomcats fought passionately for the possession of the bride, while Djibi paraded among them with an innocent mien which increased their desires.

  At last this period of warfare came to an end. Ruffled but obviously satisfied, Djibi returned home and subsided into almost continuous slumber.

  After a few weeks her body began to swell. She was bearing her young.

  Solicitously, the teacher saw that she had everything she needed and waited for the hour on which Djibi was to become a mother.

  It took a little less than two months. He arranged for her a comfortable lying-in couch. “The princess may well be satisfied with the preparations,” smiled Mrs. Bertha. There was a strained atmosphere in the house as Djibi’s confinement approached.

  She emitted murmuring, plaintive, tenderly purring sounds. Her expression was brave, longing and loving.

  Tasso, considerate, kept away from her.

  Three kittens appeared in quick succession.

  Djibi’s manner underwent a complete transformation.

  She washed every baby kitten elaborately as soon as it was born, laid it down at her side and did not rest until the mite, still blind, found her breast.

  She was touching in her gentle, tireless, and patient tenderness, though she herself was still in a state of complete exhaustion.

  The glances which she threw at the teacher spoke of complete trust and peaceful rest.

  She lay down sideways, with her little ones carefully placed at her nipples, watching them lovingly.

  The teacher bent down to the mother and her children: “Well, pussy, you’ve done it! How do you feel now?”

  She looked at him tenderly, and he ventured to stroke her. She began to purr softly and he said gaily: “Everything in order!”

  “Of course it is!” nodded Mrs. Bertha, who was standing by. “A cat like her can stand a good deal more!”

  Tasso approached, too, sniffing at Djibi and the kittens.

  The teacher watched them anxiously. He feared an attack by the cat, who might resent the dog’s intrusion and try to ward him off. But Djibi only raised her paw languidly and amicably slapped Tasso’s snout.

  He wagged his tail in excitement.

  Hansi sang, chirped and warbled, full of enthusiasm.

  A few days later, when the teacher was sitting contentedly in his armchair, Djibi came up to him, carrying a kitten in her mouth, jumped onto his lap and entrusted her child to him.

  Then she brought the two remaining kittens, which she also left in his care, and finally joined them on his lap.

  Tasso stood at the teacher’s side and submitted to Djibi’s playful slaps.

  “Now you are all united!” said Bertha.

  The young kittens developed rapidly. One was an image of the mother, the second had a yellow fur which accentuated her resemblance to a lioness, and the third had black stripes.

  All three showed a childlike, fascinating gracefulness.

  Djibi herself became a child again, so eagerly did she play with her young ones, fall in with their whims and their droll fancies.

  The teacher was so enchanted by their sight that he neglected his own work.

  For hours he sat with them, holding a ball of wool by a loose thread, and watched the antics of the three kittens trying to catch it. When the mother joined in, in a solemn attempt to teach her youngsters, his delight knew no bounds.

  The singing of the canary, whose cage was now hung far lower, and Tasso’s sociable company, added to his high spirits.

  One day the farmer called again:

  “Good heavens, man, four cats!” He was positively alarmed.

  “Well, what about it?”

  “What are you going to do with four cats?”

  “Nothing, Farmer, nothing! I’m enjoying myself with them.”

  “Will you never learn any sense?”

  “Not in the way you define sense!”

  “You mean you will keep all four cats?”

  “Of course!”

  “Of the three kittens, you should have at least drowned two!”

  “Should have?”

  “Naturally!”

  “I am no murderer!”

  “Don’t talk such nonsense!”

  “It is no nonsense. Such an action is, in my opinion, nothing but murder.”

  “What next! Drowning a couple of newborn kittens is no murder!”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Nothing! Absolutely nothing! If I shoot my dog, am I a murderer?”

  “Certainly; from a higher point of view, you are a murderer.”

  “Leave me alone with your higher point of view. You are a fool.”

  “You’re right, quite right. And because I am a fool, I am not a farmer, but a mere teacher. Nothing more.”

  “Even as a teacher you could have made your way and gotten on in the world. It only requires good management.”

  “What for? I don’t care a jot for your so-called prosperity.” The teacher snapped his fingers. “The children are fond of me; even you still like me quite well from your schooldays. Or don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I like you very well!”

  “There you are! My ambition is satisfied. I am quite content.”

  “But next year . . . what will happen? Won’t you have eight or even ten cats roaming about the place?”

  “Perhaps. It is not for me to say.”

  “Who but you can prevent it? In whose hands is it?”

  The teacher shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

  “It is entirely pussy’s affair.”

  “But . . . that is . . .”

  “That is only natural,” interrupted the teacher.

  “And you’re going to raise every litter?”

  “Look how they enjoy their existence!” He pointed at the gay dancing kittens.

  “You’ll come to a bad end!”

  “Don’t worry, farmer, the end comes to every one of us. Besides, the end is always bad, just because it is the end.”

  “Aren’t you frightened of it?”

  “No. I am not frightened of anything! A bad conscience would torment me out of my sleep at night, but I have no bad conscience. Therefore, I am not afraid of the end.”

  “Do you believe in God at all?”

  “I believe in God. I worship him in every living being . . . that is more than you do.”

  “More than I? I deny it!”

  “Understand me well! I worship God with every kindness I show to our dumb brothers. All living creatures are our dumb brothers, the children of the Great Creator. Remember, every good deed toward our dumb brothers is a prayer to God!”

  “I’ll say no more. You have even succeeded in reconciling t
he worst enemies!”

  “What do you mean?”

  The farmer pointed in surprise to Tasso, who was rolling one of the kittens, while Djibi looked happily on.

  “Dog and cat,” said the teacher, “are, of course, jealous of each other. That is quite true. But man has whipped this jealousy into hatred and strife, and man alone can make peace between them again.”

  “You are referring to yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Only because I cannot think of anybody else at the moment!”

  “Because you are . . . you are an exception.”

  “Unfortunately, most unfortunately! I wish I weren’t.”

  When it got warm, the teacher brought the three kittens with their mother out into the yard, to enjoy the sunshine and the fresh air. For the same reason he put the canary’s cage on the windowsill.

  A few days later an incident occurred which cost the life of the lion-colored kitten.

  The summer heat cast a drowsy spell on animals and people alike.

  Tasso was resting in the shade, Djibi slept at his side, and the teacher dozed on the couch in the cool room. One of the three kittens lay in the full sun, the other two in the shade by the fountain.

  Hansi alone was lively, enjoying to the full the glowing air, the smell of the fields, and the brightness of the day. He sang as loudly as he could, and his melodious voice was vigorous and jubilant.

  Suddenly a terrier came tearing into the peaceful scene. He ran fast, as though possessed, and on his passage seized the yellow kitten by her neck, smashed her fragile spine and threw the dead body aside.

  Only a faint, plaintive sound escaped the kitten as she met her death.

  But this feeble tone was sufficient to alarm Djibi. She jumped to her feet. As soon as the terrier saw the cat he flew at her.

  A well-aimed blow made him reel back. All this happened so quickly that Djibi barely had time to arch her back. She stood there, ready for the fight. The terrier returned to the attack. He whined painfully under Djibi’s claws, retreated, but remained standing in front of his enemy, watchful.

  In the meantime, Tasso had woken up; he put an end to the tension by throwing himself at the terrier, who at first turned a somersault and then escaped.

  Suddenly Djibi discovered her dead child.

  Without a moment’s hesitation she chased the fugitive, overtook him, jumped on his back and belabored him mercilessly with furious blows until he was streaming with blood.

  He howled loudly, frantic with terror and pain.

  He had no alternative but to roll on the floor, and thus rid himself of the raving cat. He took advantage of it to escape with the utmost haste from the scene of his misdeed.

  Tasso followed him and barked so violently that the terrier redoubled his speed.

  The row had drawn the teacher to his door. He quickly reached for Djibi and lifted her, though she resisted.

  For a long time he tried to calm her agitation, and partly succeeded when he picked up the two little kittens and showed them to her. She received the youngsters tenderly, sniffed at them and listened attentively to their low purring. Finally there was a proper trio, with a loud purring overtone and two thin accompaniments. The teacher listened, delighted, and thought the crisis was over.

  But Djibi was pulling to get down from his arms to the spot where the body of the kitten lay. She found no peace, escaped the teacher’s caresses, jumped down to the ground with a faint wail and crouched by the side of her dead child, mourning her with touching laments.

  The teacher did his best to coax her away. He succeeded only after a long while.

  Then he fetched the dead kitten and buried it secretly.

  Some weeks later a change came over the teacher.

  He saw that Djibi neglected her young and that they all began to grow strangers to each other.

  Mrs. Bertha, who was by no means unfriendly, but who had no sentimental attitude to animals, once jokingly called her husband “a wet rag.”

  At first these words seemed to make no impression on him. But as time went on, he noticed they stuck to him, that they rankled in his heart, and stirred his whole being into revolt.

  A wet rag!

  He searched his soul, gave himself a candid account of his behavior, and found that Bertha was right.

  The fact that he resented this description, that the cap seemed to fit, was in itself sufficient proof that Bertha’s assertion was well-founded.

  But he did not want to be a wet rag; he determined to be harsher, yes, to grow hard.

  When reflecting in this manner, he remembered many of the farmer’s arguments which now seemed convincing to him. He adopted the farmer’s viewpoint almost entirely, including the reproaches directed against himself. His emotional arguments, by which he had stood with such determination, now melted away. His former opinions were shattered like a fragile piece of china.

  He was a failure in his own eyes!

  Everyone had been treating him with condescending tolerance, as a sentimental ass . . .

  Sentimental . . . exaggerating . . . in short, a fool!

  He did not realize that he was now going too far in the opposite direction.

  He went about cold and stiff, took only a mild pleasure in the canary’s joyous song, and pretended to be hard. No longer a wet rag!

  Djibi sensed the coldness in the attitude of her two-legged friend. She could, of course, not guess that this restraint was self-imposed, like a mask, beneath which lay hidden the kind, familiar, and well-loved face. Djibi did not possess so much subtle penetration.

  But she felt neglected. True to her character, she was ready to retaliate, and on her part ignored the teacher.

  Bertha noticed it very soon and declared: “Now she is proving what I have always maintained: cats know no attachment.”

  The teacher shrugged his shoulders as though such things were of no consequence to him. Internally, however, he grieved over Djibi’s conduct. He longed to re-establish the old familiarity, to take Djibi in his arms and press her to his heart, so that she might put her head under his chin and purr as she used to do in the past.

  But he restrained himself sternly.

  In the meantime, Djibi was squatting outside with apparent unconcern, surrounded by three tomcats who wooed her with atrocious, ear-splitting howls. Soon they were no longer content with their concert, but fell furiously over each other, growing more violent and ferocious every minute. Djibi looked on with complete calm and obvious enjoyment.

  Hissing, spluttering, growling, yells of fury, cries of pain.

  At last the teacher’s wife put an end to the performance. She emptied a pail of water out of the window and shouted to Tasso: “Get the cats!” at which she was shocked herself.

  An exclamation of protest escaped the teacher.

  “Really, Bertha!”

  The tomcats fled in all directions.

  Djibi sought refuge in the room.

  Tasso wagged his stump a little, and it seemed as though he were smiling.

  This little incident stabbed the teacher’s heart, but he did violence to himself and remained silent. He went to the birdcage and whispered: “Hansi . . .”

  “Peep!” said the canary, turning his head; he repeated “Peep” and began to warble his song.

  Mrs. Bertha said, with a smile: “I like him best of all your menagerie. At least he can sing, and he gives no trouble!”

  Since Djibi felt neglected in the house, she began to stray.

  At first only for part of the day; then she disappeared for days on end and nobody knew where she had got to.

  She sat in the fields, preying on mice; nor did she disdain grasshoppers and frogs.

  The teacher often used to stand outside and call: “Pussy! Pussy!”

  “Leave her, for goodness’ sake!” said Bertha. “She’ll turn up when she wants her food or milk.”

  It was no small effort to the teacher to suppress his attachment to Djibi.

  The way Bertha spoke and a
cted, her attitude to animals and even to himself gradually seemed to him too dry and matter of fact, sometimes still worse—just unfeeling.

  He grew internally estranged from his wife.

  This made him very unhappy, because, without Bertha, yes, and without Djibi, too, he felt very lonely.

  He had picked Djibi up in the street. She had come toward him trustingly, in search of protection. The confidence of this graceful creature had filled him with joy. Bertha, too, seemed fond of Djibi at the beginning.

  What had happened to change everything so? He could not understand it, and his state of mind did not improve.

  He just had a tender disposition.

  A “wet rag”!

  Well, yes, so what of it?

  He had been happy.

  Why try to change himself?

  One man is a bristling brush, the other a wet rag. That is how things are in life.

  Some people move between these two extremes, and have no conflicts or internal battles, but they are uninteresting as a result.

  In any event the position was that the teacher was anxious to know everything about Djibi, but knew nothing. He was more annoyed with her than he was willing to admit. After all, he was responsible for her.

  Of course, he still had Tasso and the canary; but he felt certain of these two and they meant less to him.

  As usual, those who are dependable get least praise and attention.

  One evening Tasso came running home, carrying Djibi in his mouth. She seemed limp and lifeless.

  The teacher was speechless with alarm. He thought Tasso had killed Djibi. Mrs. Bertha seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, for she gave a shocked exclamation.

  But Tasso put Djibi down on the floor, and she began rubbing herself against him, her tail in the air.

  Only the two of them, the dog and the cat, knew that Tasso had rescued her, as he had done many times before.

  He had delivered her from a boy who liked to torture animals but feared big dogs.

  This boy, whose name was William, was the son of a locksmith, twelve years old, stocky, sullen, with brown hair which grew nearly down to his eyes, leaving hardly any forehead. Once before he had stolen up to the teacher’s yard, where he tried to catch Djibi and tie a tin to her tail.

  Tasso’s growling and Djibi’s frightened shrieks had attracted Bertha’s attention and she ran out, surprised William, caught him by his shock of hair, shook him vigorously and gave him a smacking slap on the face.