Gobbolino the Witch's Cat

Every morning the little old man praised and admired him from the tip of his tail to his beautiful blue eyes, while the other cats growled jealously in their cages; they would not make friends with Gobbolino.

One day the little old man was especially busy, combing his cats, brushing the velvet cushions and polishing the cages from dark till dawn. He became very bad-tempered with his haste and exertion, scolding and hustling the cats and never once telling Gobbolino how beautiful he was.

“What is all the fuss and fluster about?” Gobbolino timidly asked his neighbour, the Persian madam.

“Don’t you know?” she said scornfully. “Why, tomorrow is the Cat Show Day, and we are all going. That’s what it is all about.”

Gobbolino was quite excited to hear they were to have a change, for to tell the truth he had grown a little tired of his gilded cage and blue velvet cushion. He was very grateful to the little old man for giving him good food and a comfortable home, but sometimes he dreamed of a shabby rug before the fire, a cracked saucer of skim-milk, and the noisy chatter of children instead of the rows of cages, the proud unfriendly cats, the hours of brushing, and the bony hands of the little old man who poked and prodded him every morning, saying:

“Oh, what a handsome little cat you are! And what beautiful blue eyes you have!”

“But I am very ungrateful!” Gobbolino told himself, sitting upright on his velvet cushion. “For I might still be wandering homeless in the cold, and here I am, well fed and cared for, sitting on a velvet cushion – Gobbolino the show cat!”

Early the next morning the little old man began to take down the cages, one by one, and pile them on to a little cart drawn by a scraggy pony.

Gobbolino’s cage was put on the very top of all; he had a splendid view as they trotted along the countryside towards the show.

The Cat Show was held in the Town Hall, and long before they arrived, Gobbolino could hear the excited mewing of hundreds and hundreds of show cats.

There they were, in hundreds and hundreds of cages lining the Town Hall – big cats, little cats, black cats, white cats, tabby cats, Persian cats, fat cats, thin cats, handsome cats, ugly cats, cats from China, cats from Siam, Manx cats, pet cats, wild cats, tomcats, and last of all the little old man’s cats, and Gobbolino the witch’s kitten with his beautiful blue eyes looking on at it all.

“Oh, my goodness!” he said to himself as he looked at all the cats sitting on velvet cushions of every colour under the rainbow. “Whoever will notice any of us among such splendid company?”

For the little old man had told them he expected them all to win prizes, and especially Gobbolino. He had even threatened, if they did not, to stop their cat’s-meat and to take away their velvet cushions, especially Gobbolino’s. He had promised to cuff all their ears, and to turn them out into the street to look after themselves as best they might, particularly Gobbolino.

The little cat’s heart sank as he saw all the splendid cages and thought of the little old man’s words, for nobody would look at him among such splendid company.

But the other cats sat up proud and bold. They were all certain of winning prizes, whatever Gobbolino might say.

They began to talk to their neighbours, and whispers ran from cage to cage.

“Tell me, madam, who is that black and odd-looking stranger you have brought with you? I don’t think I saw him here last show.”

A silky chinchilla was speaking to the Persian who had been Gobbolino’s neighbour before.

“No, master adopted him lately,” the Persian replied. “We don’t know much about him. To tell you the truth . . .” she began to whisper and Gobbolino could not hear what she said, nor what, in her turn, the chinchilla whispered to her neighbour, till a kind of hiss was running the round of the cages, with a murmuring echo:

“Gobbolino! Gobbolino! Gobbolino!”

Gobbolino took no notice. He did not know why the cats disliked him, or why they should be jealous of him, as the little old man said they were. He felt sure they were all twenty times more handsome than himself. He wished them no harm, and if they chose to whisper about him among themselves, he did not mind.

The judges went round among the cages, looking at the cats, examining and judging.

They went away and came back again, after which the little old man gave each cat a small piece of liver, and went to sleep on a sack behind the cages.

Presently the judges brought round coloured cards and pinned them on the cats.

The Persian had a red one with “First Prize” written on it. The chinchilla opposite had only a blue one: she was so jealous she turned her back and would not look at the Persian till her master took her away.

Some of the other cats had coloured cards as well – red, yellow, and blue ones. The little old man trotted among his cages, well pleased, stroking the heads of his prize-winners and promising them all kinds of good things for supper.