Helen Hunt Jackson

“ Now it was a sofa, now it was an arm-chair, now it was the foot of somebody's bed. But wherever it happened to be, it was sure to be the precise place where she was in the way, and the poor thing was tipped headlong out of chairs, shoved hastily off sofas, and driven off beds so continually, that at last she came to understand that when she saw any person approaching the chair, sofa, or bed on which she happened to be lying, the part of wisdom for her was to move away. ”

“ But Pussy's days were numbered. One morning, before I was up, my mamma came into my room, and sat down on the edge of my bed.
"Helen," she said, " I have something to tell you which will make you feel very badly; but I hope you will be a good little girl, and not make mamma unhappy about it. You know your papa and mamma always do what they think is the very best thing."
"What is it, mamma?" I asked, feeling very much frightened, but never thinking of Pussy.
"You will never see your Pussy any more," she replied. "She is dead." ”

“ You would not want Pussy to live, if she were very uncomfortable all the time."
"She isn't uncomfortable," I cried; "she is only sleepy. If people would let her alone, she would sleep all day. It would be awful to kill her. You might as well kill me!"
After that, I kept a very close eye on Pussy; and I carried her up to bed with me every night for a long time. ”