Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/256

Dear Mr. Punch,―I'm sure I don't want to be spiteful, and I'm as ready to sink class and party differences as anyone, if only some people who think they're gentlemen just because they belong to officers would do the same, and if I have a private quarrel I'm not one who can't keep it to herself instead of writing to the papers and rousing public feeling: but if others like to start that game, why, I can play it too; and I'm better British any day than that mongrel that writes to you and calls himself "A Very Glad Dog," and boasts of his Airedale father and Irish Terrier mother―and, if you ask me, between ourselves there wasn't much gladness about him when I'd finished with him on our T.B.D. And I've heard his grandfather was a Dachshund, and, though I don't hold with repeating scandal, there's a story I wouldn't say isn't true, that his mother used to go to Sinn Fein meetings and wag her tail at the dynamite speeches, and I'm sure I hope he's proud of her―though he did say that I was a dirty Persian and much the same thing as a Turk, just out of spite because I have a coat that he might well envy with his ugly, tously yellowy thing; it's a beautiful steel-grey, and only the other day the Admiral complimented me on it when he came aboard after the North Sea business―but I'll tell you about that later―and said he liked to see a Service animal the Service colour. What's more, if one of my ancestors was a Persian he came from the British sphere of influence, and, anyway, we've been naturalised for generations, and the only time I ever tasted sherbet it made me sick.

If you'll believe me, too, there was a rat on that boat of his for a whole month, and the only time one came near mine since the War I had him before he reached the deck from the dock wall; and I'll have Mr. Glad Dog know that when he comes aboard us he'll salute the quarter-deck like the rest of us, or get his face scratched like last time, or my name's not Susy.

That's what started it all, you know, Mr. Punch. I won't say I'm fond of dogs, but I give you my word as a perfect lady―and if you don't believe me ask Jim, that's our cook―that I'd never even have spat in his face, it being war time, if he'd observed the traditions of the Service. You might think from his saying that he "came back feeling pleasantly tired" that he had it all his own way, but I may tell you he hadn't, in spite of his superior gun power, and if he's afraid to go up the rigging a ship's no place for him, anyway. All he could do was to sit below and talk big about the 13-5 guns on his boat, and that a destroyer, which shows how much he knows about our Service.

I'm sure you're tired of hearing about him now, Mr. Punch, and I don't wonder; but I must just tell you one thing more to show you the kind of dog he is. He hobnobbed with all the German prisoners that they picked up. They didn't get as many as we, of course, and I scratched three, and would have done the lot, only Jim shut me up in the galley. If you can't scratch your enemies, all I can say is patriotism will go to the dogs, and a precious mess they'll make of it.

They might have given me a free claw with the prisoners too, because, though I don't say that the men and the guns and the ships didn't all do their work as well as it could be done, and I was never one to boast, I was really responsible for that victory. You see we were the first boat to sight the German cruisers, and I knew there was big business going, because Jim had forgotten my milk, and the light was bad, so I was up on the look-out to help Bill. I saw them a long time before I could make him notice, and he nearly threw me down because I scratched his hand, but he told everyone afterwards about my having discovered them, and I'm not the sort to bear malice. "Couldn't make out what was wrong with Susy, mate," he went about saying to one after another. "She kept clawing and yowling like mad, and she'd been purring quite quiet a minute before; and then I sees she was staring all the time to starboard, and, 'Bogob, old lady,' says I, 'you're right.' And then she makes for the wireless room, and the chap he tells me she was purring louder than the engines while he sends off the message." Do you wonder that they all say they wouldn't go into action without me?!

I told you we had the Admiral aboard just afterwards, and he was introduced to me, but I must say that, though I'm no snob and don't want to be prejudiced against him just because he's an Admiral and has a bigger yellow band on his fur than I'd call good taste, I didn't care for him as much as Jim or Bill for all his politeness. He never picked me up, though I stood up against his legs without ever putting a claw out and purred my hardest. Still, I'm a ship's cat, and I leave toadying to them that like it.

Well, good-bye now, Mr. Punch. We don't see you as regularly as we'd like on active service, but I'll be watching out for this, and trust you'll let your readers know the rights of the matter.

I have, Sir the honour to be,
Your obedient Servant,
A respectable H.M. Cat.

P.S. Perhaps you'd like to know that I always purr when I hear any of the four national anthems. Of course, if people haven't any ear for music and can only make a raspy noise when they try to sing, I don't blame them if they don't pay proper respect, but I thought I'd just mention it.

Irish Sergeant (drilling recruits). Stiddy there―stiddy! Shure, one needs as many eyes as a centipede to be afther watchin' ye."

"Miss ———, of Lower-street, Stroud, will be engaged to Mr. ———, son of Mr. and Mrs. ———, Througham, near Stroud, on the 28th February."―Gloucestershire Echo, Feb. 27th.

We rather deprecate this premature publicity. Suppose there had been a hitch.