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Please read the story of this wonderful cat! When I was a child I had a male cat who weighed twelve pounds, and I loved him devotedly. He, too, was a great hunter, but he killed his prey.
This has been a dreary month here2; Spring heat one day, and 12 above zero the same night.3 I had influenza and had to stay in bed for ten days. I got frightfully bored. I have not heard any music or been to the theatre. The month has been a blank. I tried not to think; one hasn’t rational judgment when one is ill, so I gave myself up to very pleasant memories, recollections which went a long way back. I found that very restful and pleasant. And I love to remember last winter, when you and Hephzibah4 were here for a long while; and Marutha5 very near, though in retirement. I knew then that the whole group of you would never be so gaily expectant and care-free again. It’s like the sunrise or the first spring day—it can’t last. But I got a great deal of joy out of watching you and loving you all before the plunge into life which I felt was just before you. During this last dreary month I have remembered our walks and talks many times.
Please tell me again the name of your big dog. Don’t think too much. Try to be a vegetable for awhile, a little carrot, let us say! That is a nice clean, crisp vegetable. You can’t hurry the growing process. Life is really very long—quite long enough—although I remember Hephzibah was always insisting that it is “so short”. Perhaps she feels differently now, with the big quiet pasture lands about her instead of the rush of big cities.
I’m sorry to send you such a dull letter, darling Yaltah. But in spite of the fact that I am still very languid I love you very dearly, and I write because my thoughts turn toward you.
Lovingly your Aunt Willa