seemed to make up her mind and said:
“See here, what is really important at the moment is for you to begin to learn something about being a cat, and the sooner we begin, the better. I shudder to think what might happen to you if you were alone again. How would it be if we had a lesson first? And of course nothing is more pressing than for you to learn how to wash. Afterwards, perhaps, I will be able to tell you my story.”
Peter hid his disappointment because she had been so kind to him and he did not wish to upset her. He merely said, “I’ll try, though I’m not very good at lessons.”
“I’ll help you, Peter,” Jennie reassured him, “and you’ll be surprised how much better you will feel when you know how. Because a cat must not only know how to wash, but WHEN to wash. You see, it’s something like this …”
“‘WHEN IN DOUBT – any kind of doubt – Wash!’ That is Rule Number 1,” said Jennie. She now sat primly and a little stiffly, with her tail wrapped around her feet, near the head of the big bed beneath the Napoleon Initial and Crown, rather like a schoolmistress. But it was obvious that the role of teacher and the respectful attention Peter bestowed upon her were not unendurable, because she had a pleased expression and her eyes were again gleaming brightly.
The sun had reached its noon zenith in the sky in the world that lay outside the dark and grimy warehouse, and coming in slantwise through the small window sent a dusty shaft that fell like a theatrical spotlight about Jennie’s head and shoulders as she lectured.
“If you have committed any kind of an error and anyone scolds you – wash,” she was saying. “If you slip and fall off something and somebody laughs at you – wash. If you are getting the worst of an argument and want to break off hostilities until you have composed yourself, start washing. Remember, every cat respects another cat at her toilet. That’s our first rule of social deportment, and you must also observe it.
“Whatever the situation, whatever difficulty you may be in you can’t go wrong if you wash. If you come into a room full of people you do not know, and who are confusing to you, sit right down in the midst of them and start washing. They’ll end up by quieting down and watching you. Some noise frightens you into a jump, and somebody you know saw you were frightened – begin washing immediately.
“If somebody calls you and you don’t care to come and still you don’t wish to make it a direct insult – wash. If you’ve started off to go somewhere and suddenly can’t remember where it was you wanted to go, sit right down and begin brushing up a little. It will come back to you. Something hurt you? Wash it. Tired of playing with someone who has been kind enough to take time and trouble and you want to break off without hurting his or her feelings? Start washing.
“Oh, there are dozens of things! Door closed and you’re burning up because no one will open it for you – have yourself a little wash and forget it. Somebody petting another cat or dog in the same room, and you are annoyed over that – be nonchalant; wash. Feel sad – wash away your blues. Been picked up by somebody you don’t particularly fancy and who didn’t smell good – wash him off immediately and pointedly where he can see you do it. Overcome by emotion – a wash will help you to get a grip on yourself again. Any time, anyhow, in any manner, for whatever purpose, wherever you are, whenever and why ever that you want to clear the air, or get a moment’s respite or think things over – WASH!
“And,” concluded Jennie, drawing a long breath, “of course you also wash to get clean and to keep clean.”
“Goodness!” said Peter, quite worried, “I don’t see how I could possibly remember them all.”
“You don’t have to remember any of it, actually,” Jennie explained. “All that you have to remember is Rule 1:‘When in doubt – WASH!’”
Peter, who like all boys had no objection to being reasonably clean, but not too clean, saw the problem of washing looming up large and threatening to occupy all of his time. “It’s true, I remember, you always do seem to be washing,” he protested to Jennie, “I mean all cats I’ve seen, but I don’t see why. Why do cats spend so much of their time at it?”
Jennie considered this question for a moment, and then replied, “Because it feels so good to be clean.”
“Well, at any rate I shall never be capable of doing it,” Peter remarked, “because I won’t be able to reach places now that I am a cat and cannot use my hands. And even when I was a boy, Nanny used to have to wash my back for me …”
“Nothing of the kind,” said Jennie. “The first thing you will learn is that there isn’t an inch of herself of himself that a cat cannot reach to wash. If you had ever owned one of us, you would know. Now watch me. We’ll begin with the back. I’ll do it first, and then you come over here alongside of me and do as I do.”
And with that, sitting upright, she turned her head around over her shoulder with a wonderful ease and grace, and with little short strokes of her tongue and keeping her chin down close to her body, she began to wash over and around her left shoulder blade, gradually increasing the amount of turn and the length of the stroking movement of her head until her rough, pink tongue was travelling smoothly and firmly along the region of her upper spine.
“Oh, I never could!” cried Peter, “because I cannot twist my head around as far as you can. I never know what is going on behind me unless I turn right around.”
“Try,” was all Jennie replied.
Peter did, and to his astonishment found that whereas when he had been a boy he had been unable to turn his head more left and right than barely to be able to look over his shoulders, now he could swivel it quite around on his neck so that he was actually gazing out behind him. And when he stuck out his tongue and moved his head in small circles as he had seen Jennie do, there he was washing around his left shoulder.
“Oh, bravo! Splendid!” applauded Jennie. “There, you see! Well done, Peter. Now turn a little more – you’re bound to be a bit stiff at first – and down the spine you go!”
And indeed, down the spine, about halfway from below his neck to the middle of his back, Peter went. He was so delighted that he tried to purr and wash at the same time, and actually achieved it.
“Now,” Jennie coached, “for the rest of the way down, you can help yourself and make it easier – like this. Curve your body around and go a little lower so that you are half sitting, half lying. That’s it! Brace yourself against your right paw and pull your left paw in a little closer to you so that it is out of the way. There … Now, you see, that brings the rest of you nicely around in a curve where you can get at it. Finish off the left side of your back and hindquarters and then shift around and do the other side.”
Peter did so, and was amazed to find with what little effort the whole of his spine and hindquarters was brought within ample reach of his busy tongue. He even essayed to have a go at his tail from this position, but found this a more elusive customer. It would keep squirming away.
Jennie smiled. “Try putting a paw on it to hold it down. The right one. You can still brace yourself with it. That’s it. We’ll get at the underside of
