Eight other back fence cats from this borough got away with prize ribbons, while blue-blooded Persians left the show with drooping, downcast tails, not a prize or a ribbon to their name. Incidentally, this great achievement of Brooklyn street cats demonstrates that it is never too late to reform. Picked up in the last stages of dissipation, lean from long periods of night revelry, torn and ragged from much clawing and fighting, these cats were washed, re-generated, reformed and made over into prize winners.

If other proofs were needed that cats, as well as men, may be snatched from the yamm[er]ing jaws of ruin, is the record of Dick of Tammany, the orange tabby exhibited by Mrs. W. S. Hofstra, president of the Atlantic Cat Club, under whoso auspices the Cat Show is given every year. Dick of Tammany took prizes like a thoroughbred, yet this same cat was only a little while ago prowling around the streets of New York, living the wild night life of fallen, depraved cats, fighting, stealing and going fast to that end — a bedraggled cat corpse in the ash barrel. Dick of Tammany is now a highly respectable cat, his coat is clean and smooth, his color rich and yellow, and his manner perfectly charming. He last lost all of the coarse ways of the street cat, and even a cat fancier would find it hard work to discover any evidence of ill breeding. He is a fine argument for Mrs. Hofstra s pet idea — a municipal cat refuge, or Home for Friendless Cats.

The prizes taken by the Brooklyn street mousers brought to light the fact that there is already in Brooklyn a cat refuge that might be called the Home for Wayward and Friendless cats. This home is at 40 First place, the residence of Mr. and Mrs. William H. Hale, who had nine cats on exhibition at the cat show. These nine were stray cats, pedigrees unknown. They took thirteen prizes and ribbons.

One of Mr. Hale's reclaimed cats took three prizes. He had blue, red and yellow ribbons hanging all over his cage, while the carefully bred cats from luxurious homes looked enviously at him from cages that were unadorned with any evidence of their superiority.

Mr. and Mrs. Hale are both interacted in cats. Mrs. Hale cannot bear to see a cat wandering alone in the streets. She gathers in the friendless and homeless strays and takes them to her home. There they are fed and pampered and taught good manners. It is both a reformatory and a cat college. When a cat gets through with its training under Mrs. Hale's care it is ready to go into the highest cat society. It knows all the little niceties of etiquette, never washes his face in public, always wears its whiskers well combed, never has a tousled coat and is sure to observe all the feline social amenities.

Mr and Mrs. Hale enter their eats in the cat show to get rid of them. Every year they collect quite a number of cats and by the time of the annual cat show their residence is simply overrun with cats of all kinds. There hasn't been a mouse on the Hale block in five years, so far has the reputation of his household spread.

On every cage containing a Hale cat at the cat show there ws« a big printed card, bearing this inscription: "For sale, or to be given away if not sold before the end of the show." On two or three of the cards Mrs. Hale had written in pencil that she would insist upon knowing the character of the home into which her cats were to go. Two of the cats had a price mark of $5.

Ida Saxton McKinley was one of Mr. Hale's proudest cats. Ida became a member of the Hale household on the birthday of Mrs. William McKinley, therefore the name. Ida is familiarly called Mackie for short. She is a black cat. She must have had a checkered past, but all that is forgotten and forgiven. She bears no longer any evidence of her former degradation. She is all that could be expected of any decent self-respecting cat. Her intelligence is of the highest order and she shows the most grateful appreciation of what Dr. and Mrs. Hale have done for her

"Mackie" is a mother. Her little 6 months old babe was on exhibition. His name is Tittlemouse, and he was born June, 1904, exact date unknown, because "Mackie" kept his birth secret for several days. The other parent of Tittlemouse is entirely unknown. Tittlemouse is black, like his mother, and they were exhibited in the same class, with Lankv and Toby two other black kittens that boast with Tittlemouse, the proud distinction of being the only Hale kittens actually known to have been born. For all that the Hales know, their other cats. like Topsy, were "never born, but just growed.”
Emmie Love and Novie were two of the Hale strays in the brown or gray tabby class to make the thoroughbreds envious. Teddy Gold, formerly a disreputable, clawed-up, roustabout, and swashbuckling tomcat from the back fence district along Court street, shared the honors of the orange tabby class with Dick of Tammany, whose remarkable reformation has already been noted.

In Class 65, any color tabby with white, the Hale cats had no competition. Cottie, Bobbie, Minnie and Gladdie, took every prize. Altogether, twelve of the Hale's cats were entered, but only nine were exhibited. The triumph of Snooks in Class 66 was a terrible blow to the other cats in that class. There was N*gger, with his proud pedigree, and Buster Brown, Mrs Woodruff's pet, both in this class. It was a class for nondescripts catalogued “Any other color, with or without white." Snooks was entered by Mrs Hale in her own name. He was well coached. His dark past buried and forgotten in his short career at the Hale cat conservatory, he entered the lists last night with conscious pride. The other competitors could only try to emulate his perfect style. He was the most accomplished nondescript ever put on exhibition.

Another winner, but not of Brooklyn so far as is known was Diana of the Ephesians, catalogued as "Seven years old, rescued from bad boys.”

It has not been long since Brian G. Hughes, the practical joker, shaved a stray cat and exhibited it at the cat show as a remarkable species of a rare hairless cat. He won a prize and then gave the joke away. But the Hale cats did not take prizes that way. They are all real genuine cats, the best in their class. They show that the United States Constitution, if applied to cats would be pretty nearly true – all cats must be born equal.

One thing is certain, the Brooklyn tramp cats behaved better than some of the members of the Cat Club, in the annual election held last night. The pussies didn't fight at all, but the fur flew when the men and women of the club got together to elect their officers. The fighting and clawing started over the candidacy of Dr. Ottolengui, who has been the club’s secretary for several years. The secretary has devoted himself to the cats of New York, and has been one of the most energetic workers in the club.

NINE TRAMP CATS GET BLUE RIBBON – The New York Times, January 8th, 1905
Brooklyn Back Fences Echo Triumph of Mongrel Nine. 13 Prizes At Garden Show. Mrs. Hale Took Snooks, Teddy Gold, and “Ida Saxton McKinley” from the Streets and Lo! How They Reward Her.

When the glad new» spread through the alleys and along the back fences of Brooklyn last night there was wauling and caterwauling for joy among the vagabond cats of the borough. Tom meowed to Tabby and Tabby in turn squalled to Marla that nine tramp cats of Brooklyn had gotten away with thirteen blue ribbons at the Madison Square Garden Cat Show.

The reformed bootjack dodgers were entered in the exhibition by Mr. and Mrs. William H. Hale, of 40 First Place, Brooklyn. Both Mr. and Mrs. Hale are interested in cats and have reclaimed many a furry outcast. They gather in the homeless and friendless felines, feed and pamper them and teach them good manners. Mrs. Hale has taken In many a depraved vagrant prowling around on back fences and fast approaching the city dump and trained him to be somebody in the feline world.

Among the cats under her care which she has rescued from vagabondage were nine that had come to know and practice all the little niceties of cat etiquette. They had learned not to wash their faces in public and to keep their coats smooth and their whiskers neatly combed.

Mrs. Hale was so proud of the reformation which had taken place in these once dissipated and abandoned creatures that she decided to enter them in the cat show held at Madison Square Garden last week. She had no idea of playing a joke on the show people. Nor did she expect any of her entries to win a prize. She merely hoped some persons would take a fancy to the cats and give them good homes.

Joke or not, however, the nine Hale cats carried off thirteen prizes. They won purely on their merits as cats, Mrs. Hale declares. Four of them were bought by admirers.

Teddy Gold, of orange coat, formerly a swashbuckling freebooter, who picked his living out of area ways and kitchen windows in the neighborhood of Court Street and First Place, was one of the prize-winners. Another was "Ida Saxton McKinley,” so named because she wandered into the Hale house on Mrs. McKinley's birthday. She was exhibited with her six-months-old kitten. Tittlemouse by name. Snooks, another Hale entry, with a shady past won in a walk out of his class, which should have been for nondescripts. Emmy Lou and Novie also simply ran away from the aristocrats in the gray tabby class.

Altogether it was regarded as a great triumph for the slums of Brooklyn catdom, and the celebration on the back fences of the borough last night was kept up until the sympathetic smile at the pale new moon was lost in the flooding light of dawn.

THE ALLEY CAT’S TRIUMPH – The Saint Paul Globe, 6th February, 1905
One of the amusements of greater Gotham is the cat show that is held every season in Madison Square Garden. This winter it was held as usual, and the usual number of high-priced tabbies were entered by their wealthy and exclusive owners. But there were other entries, too, and thereby hangs a sad tale, though it is a tale with a moral. The Home for Wayward and Friendless Cats entered nine vagabond felines. Each of the nine received a coveted blue ribbon. The incident should forever silence the detractors of the alley cats. For it is from this class that the wayward and friendless cats which fill the home are recruited; and the ribbon winners, if the record furnished of each is correct, and there seems to be no good reason for doubting it, represented about the worst that there is in catdom. But reclaimed from sin, weaned from their habit of nocturnal prowlings, given the opportunity to lead regular lives and to keep regular hours, the animals throve, their beauty returned and flourished, with the result that nine of the reformed ones can point with pride to azure ribbons.

Many who have been disposed to believe that there is good in everybody else have not, heretofore, been willing to admit that there was good in the alley cat. But the Madison Square cat show has proved conclusively that some cats as well as some humans are diamonds in the rough, and that a little polish in the way of human kindness and opportunity reveals the valuable jewel. Perhaps in the future the wrathful individual who contemplates hurling a boot at some tuneful tramp cat on the back fence will recall the incident of the cat show and refrain. At any rate, no one can deny that the result of the cat show spells hope for every disreputable tabby that skulks in dark alleys. Her kind has triumphed over felines of the bluest blood and she has the right to hold up her head with the proudest.

BACK TO CAT TRAMPDOM. EMMY LOU, VAGABOND PRIZE WINNER AT THE CAT SHOW, RAN AWAY The Buffalo Commercial, 14th March 1905
Emmy Lou, erstwhile tramp and vagabond, later winner of three blue ribbons and a bronze medal at the recent New York cat show, is lost, and her reclaimer and educator, Mrs. William H. Hale of 40 First-place, Brooklyn, is sorrowing. Mrs. Hale fears especially that Emmy Lou’s experience of luxury will have unfitted her to cope with the perils and privations of tramp life once more.

That Emmy Lou may voluntarily have courted vagrancy her former mistress is not inclined to admit. “No, no,” says she, “If ever a cat was thoroughly reformed, that cat is Emmy Lou.”

According to Mrs. Hale, from the very wet Sunday morning nearly a year ago when, starvation staring out of her wild, sunken eyes, Emmy Lou pressed her face against the Hales’ basement window until the day after the cat show, when, sleek and debonair, she was purchased by a woman living uptown in Manhattan, the cat showed a consistent determination to follow paths of virtue. Mrs. Hale refuses to believe that the change from a quiet retired locality in Brooklyn to a populous thoroughfare in New York has affected Emmy Lou’s morals.

Be that as it may, Emmy Lou shoed great satisfaction in her new home. Then her mistress spoke in her presence of moving to New Jersey, and her mistress’s mother announced at the same time her intention of returning to her home in Buffalo. Whether this double prospect had any effect on Emmy Lou’s plan is not known.

It was decided that Emmy Lou should go to Buffalo. To take her thither a strong covered basket was bought and furnished with a soft pillow, some catnip and a dainty cat luncheon. Emmy Lou was put in, the cover tied down securely and her new mistress carried her to the New York Central station at 125th street. At that point the tracks are raised a dozen feet or so above the sidewalk and the station is upstairs. Emmy Lou went no further than the station. When the Buffalo train drew up at the station the basket. The pillow, the catnip, the dainty lunch were all there, but Emmy Lou was sprinting over that tracks at a mile a minute gait, pursued by a platform hand, who was spurred on by the sight of a green-back waved by the cat’s frantic owner.

Arrived at the extremity of the last platform, Emmy Lou took the only alternative to capture and leaped into space, landing safely in 126th street, from which she fled into a coal and wood yard on the corner. Since then no trace has been had of Emmy Lou. Her mistress has canvassed night and day for a week every inch of ground in that neighbourhood, ringing doorbells. Interviewing householders, offering a reward to small boys, all to no purpose. Here is Mrs. Hale’s description of the lost cat, given with the hope that it may lead to her identification and return to her former Brooklyn mistress.

Emmy Lou is a tabby of the breed sometimes called tiger, a brown tabby, although most people would call her gray, and she is without a single white mark anywhere. She is marked with broad black stripes, very clear and distinct, her fur is very soft and she has pretty yellow legs. She has greenish eyes, a long, loud mew, dainty ways and an affectionate disposition.

EMMY LOU A FALLEN CAT, SO BITTER GOSSIP SAYS
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, March 19th, 1905
But Mrs. Hale, Who Won Her Once to Penitence and Virtue, Hopes for the Best.
HEARD THE CALL OF THE WILD
And Revolted at the Idea of Being Sent to Buffalo by Basket Route. Emmy Lou’s Playmates.

An alarm is out for Emmy Lou, a tabby cat of tiger hue, with manner ladylike and proud, and a meouw described as very loud, with big and wistful greenish eyes, and a coat that won the Cat Show prize—an orange brown, not common gray, such was the cat that went away. She left because she would not go to a distant home in Buffalo.

Emmy Lou's history is too wonderful for plain prose, but the limitations of verse are such that her story must be told in unembellished words. She was a cat with a checkered past. This dark chapter of her life cannot be hidden behind the ribbons and medals and badges of honor that have beeen conferred upon her since she was snatched from the brink of ruin. She was a Mary Magdalen among cats; repentant, she threw herself on the mercies of a tender- hearted woman, and was saved. That woman was Mrs. W. H. Hale, who runs a Home for Friendless and Wayward Cats at her own home. 40 First place, Brooklyn.

The newspapers have given fame to Emmy Lou. They have told how she went to the Cat Show in Madison Square Garden In January and took four prizes, one of them a bronze medal. She was the sensation of the Cat Show. However, the newspapers did not tell of that early cathood over which kind fate had drawn a curtain. That part of her life Is now of Important interest, in that it may serve to show a motive for Emmy Lou’s disappearance.

The disappeared e of this remarkable cat was rather startling. She did not slink away in the dark watches of the night, but she went in open day, before the eyes of a multitude. It was, in fact, an escape. Rather than leave New York, the cat deliberately broke out of a basket at the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth street station of the New York Central railroad, and risked her life in a spectacular leap from the elevated railroad track to the ice-coated streets below, to escape capture by pursuing railroad employes. Since that time, a great deal of money and time have been expended in the search for Emmy Lou. Now Mrs. Hale, who saved and regenerated the once fallen cat, has joined in the search.

Since the Cat Show, Emmy Lou has been the property of Mrs. J.C. Lathrop, of Finderne, N.J.. Mrs. Lathrop bought her from Mrs. Hale after Emmy Lou has distinguished herself by winning the first premium in her class (tabby without spot white), and by getting the award of a special prize from the Atlantic Cat Club, consisting of a bronze medal with her name engraved upon it, together with another special prize and a year’s subscription to the Cat Journal for being the best short-haired cat in the whole show.

Couldn’t Put Her Off at Buffalo.

From January 6 to February 15 Emmy Lou lived at Mrs. Lathrop’s home at 416 West, One Hundred and Twenty-fourth street. Mrs. Lathrop’s mother, who was making a prolonged visit at her daughter’s home, learned that her pet cat, Jane, had died at her own home in Buffalo. She had fallen in love with Emmy Lou, which was one of the most lovable cats in the world despite her evil past, and as Mrs. Lathrop was going to move to her home in New Jersey, it was decided that Emmy Lou should go to Buffalo and take the place of poor dead Jane.

“Emmy Lou,” said Mrs. Lathrop as she softly stroked the fur of the purring cat, “you are going with mother to Buffalo, and you must be real good.”

Now Emmy Lou is no ordinary cat. When she heard that announcement, she made no sign of disappointment, or regret. She simply continued to purr, and maybe arched her back more gratefully beneath the hand of her mistress. But later events proved that Emmy Lou understood that she had to leave New York, and it seems that she determined she would not go.

The Lathrops bought a handsome new cat-basket for Emmy Lou’s use on the trip to Buffalo. Emmy Lou started to object when they picked her up from a soft rug to put her in the basket. For just an instant there was a fash of the old-time deviltry that had made her one of the worst cats of Brooklyn back alleys, but suddenly she remembered the training of the happy months at Mrs. Hale’s and she submitted to the will of her mistress. She meowed pitifully as Mrs. Lathrop’s mother started with her for the Harlem station of the New York Central, but she did not struggle. After the climb up the high stairs, she was permitted to look out of the basket. Over on a back fence between One Hundred and Twenty-fourth and One Hundred and Twenty-fifth sts., two cats were strolling despite the cold of the day. Perhaps they were friends of Emmy Lou; most likely not, for recently she had been very careful of her acquaintances. She looked wistfully toward them, and then, resignedly she curled herself up in her basket and the cover was closed down above her.

Emmy Lou was thinking. Just a day or so before there had been talk in the Lathrop household that Teddy Gold, another Cat Show prize winner, and an intimate friend of Emmy Lou in the old days in Brooklyn, had got a home in a wealthy family, and was soon to be taken away to Florida. Maybe this came to Emmy Lou's mind that cold day on the railroad station platform. Why should Teddy Gold, who was once the most disreputable roustabout in all the gutters of Brooklyn, go to sunny Florida while she, the proud and beautiful Emmy Lou, must go to cold and ice-bound Buffalo?

The Flight and the Pursuit.

Suddenly the cover of the cat basket was raised. There was a flash of tigerish brown and then a streak of gray down the rail-road tracks on the elevated structure of the New York Central. Mrs. Lathrop and her mother screamed, several men saw that the cat had escaped, and, forgetting danger from fast-flying trains, they jumped off the platform and ran recklessly along the rough, stone-ballasted roadbed, after the fleeing cat.

The flight of Emmy Lou was a revelation to Mrs. Lathrop, who had known her pet as the sweetest, softest and most perfectly behaved cat in the world. Now Emmy Lou was transformed. The dare-devil spirit of gutter days possessed her. At One Hundred and Twenty-seventh street she met a down-tow n train, and it seemed that she would be run down. She Jumped to the other side of the track, and ran on. At One Hundred and Twenty-eighth street a track man headed her off. Emmy Lou spit at him with anger. She turned and saw that she was trapped. Hesitating only a second she leaped desperately off the structure into the street below.

Mrs. Lathrop had the whole neighborhood searched and spent money advertising for the cat, all without result. Then she appealed to Mrs. Hale in Brooklyn thinking that Emmy Lou, with the homing Instinct that Is so marvelously developed In cat, might have made the long trip back to Brooklyn.

The kindest theory is that Emmy Lou Is striving hard to find her way back to Mts. Hale's and that she Is living an upright life as she wanders on toward Brooklyn. But this theory is hardly sound. Emmy Lou has had more than a month to make the trip.

Sad though it Is. those who know of Emmy Lou’s past cannot help believing that she has fallen again into evil ways. Mrs, Hale alone has implicit faith in her former ward. She thinks that Emmy Lou has either starved to death or is leading a respectable life in a new found home. Her faith in the regenerated cats of her household is strong. She never had it disappointed save once when the big Maltese backslided after his sensational conversion. For a time he was a shining example in the Hale family, but he fell and went back into the dark life of thieving, dissipated cats.

Emmy Lou’s rescue was one of the most pathetic in the annals of catdom. One wet Sunday morning last summer while Mrs. Hale was feeding her family of cats gathered from the byways and back fences she glanced at the window and saw a cat’s face pressed against the window pane/ It was the face of a greedy, scraggy, starving cat, the very lowest type of degradation among cats. The cat was cold and her thin fur was wet and bedraggled. She was a pathetic figure as she looked in at the happy cats at their meal. Mrs Hale gave her all the meat she would eat, but she would not let her in with the other cats. It was the first time she had ever found a cat so low that she would not take it in.

Modest and Apparently Penitent

The next morning Mrs. Hale got up at 4 o’clock to look after two sick kittens. She saw the same cat with her face pressed against the window pane. She warmed milk and gave it all it would drink. After that, the cat came every morning and got a bountiful supply of food. Realizing its own degradation, the cat never sought the companionship of the cats that had been rehabilitated as to character fed and combed until they were sleek and fat. But always this street wanderer was willing to give evidence of repentance. It was not until the extremely cold weather that Mrs. Hale took in the cat, fearing that it would die of exposure. She named it Emmy Lou after a novel.

Emmy Lou was a prodigy. She fattened wonderfully fast, her fur grew soft and thick in less than a month, her shrewish temper had given place to the sweetest manners, and there was no nicer, more affectionate cat in all the household. The other cats grew jealous of Emmy Lou, even Ida Sexton McKinley, Mrs. Hale’s particular pet. This cat known as Mackie for short, seemed to realize that her place in Mrs. Hale’s heart was held by sympathy and not by transcendent beauty. Mackie, born on Mrs. William McKinley’s birthday three years ago, came into the world with a split tongue, a defect inherited from her mamma, Peepsie twice. Mrs. Hale warmed the water to drown young Mackie (she is so tender-hearted that she always tempers the water so there will be no shock to the doomed kitten). But Mackie’s helplessness stayed her hand. Mackie grew up to cathood and became an enthusiastic anti-race suicide cat. All her kittens have weak voices. Several times offers were made for Mackie, but Mrs. Hale would never let her go because she was sure she would get locked in a closet sometime and could not meouw loud enough to bring help. Emmy Lou, on the contrary, had the most remarkably loud meouw in the Hale house. Emmy Lou and Mackie were never openly unfriendly, they were too well trained for that, but there was always a slight coldness between them.

Those two cats formed part of the Hale exhibit of nine cats that took thirteen prizes at the cat show and humbled the pride of the beautiful thoroughbreds on exhibition there. It was a glorious triumph for the cat slums of Brooklyn. Eight of these prize winners had been picked tip from the gutters, dying almost, their coats ragged, their ears torn with clawing and fighting, and all of them in the last stages of dissipation. They soon showed what kindness and good treatment will do for a cat.

Notes About Other Cats.

Aside from the sensational escape of Emmy Lou, there is a great deal of news concerning the celebrated cats of the Halw household. The following items from the Hale Cat News will be of Interest to cat lovers:

A seeming miracle occurred last week, when Mrs. Hale was about to pul a young kitten Into a box to be sent to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals to be killed. The kitten's three brothers and sisters had been drowned on their birthday in February, and he had been left until the ninth day. He cried so piteously that Mrs. Hale put him back with his mother. Thereafter a plainly marked V was seen upon the kitten's forehead, and as he had be n victorious over death, the letter was taken for an omen and used as the initial of the memorial name of Victor Joy that was thereupon given the kitten. Victor is now a lusty fellow, full of frolic. We want a good home for him.

Gladdie, the cat who was entered for the Cat Show at Madison Square Garden, but who was prevented by ill health from attending, is the mother of Victor Joy. Gladdie had never shown the least sign of any but the gentlest disposition until the day Victor was taken from her to be killed. Then she snarled and fought, and actually bit Mrs. Hale’s hand, not to mention the desperate scratching she did to save her offspring. She has since shown deep regret for her display of temper.

The stork is hovering over the rug of Ida Saxton McKinley, the prize-winning smoke cat. Mackie is already the mother of two handsome smoke cats, Sanky and Tittlemouse, both of whom inherit their mother's weakness of voice, with her beautiful fur.

Senix, the big tomcat, with the tine soft fur, is suffering from conjunctivitis and au oculist is attending his eyes.

Minnie Scranton, the famous dog-eared cat that excited so much attention at the Cat Show, is again a member of the Hale household. Minnie was given to a family In Fountain avenue, with the distinct understanding that there were no dogs In the family. Later Mrs. Hale became worried over Minnie's welfare, and her husband, W. H. Hale, Ph.D., and lawyer, went to see how she was getting along. He found Minnie in a home with two dogs. Promptly she was taken back to First place. Minnie was raised with puppies and her ears flop like a dog's, but she is not over fond of dogs. They make her nervous.

Sankey, the smoke cat, named after the famous evangelist, is suffering from a had eye as a result of a playful blow from his brother, Tittlemouse. Tittlemouse is rough at play, and Sankey is a mild mannered, affectionate cat who will take any sort of treatment if he sees his playmates enjoy it. Now that Tittlemouse is no longer around to box his ears, he is rapidly getting well. He still has a slight attack of the grip.

Sirenius, the seven-clawed kitten born to Minnie Scranton, is dead at his new home, where he was sent after he scratched his mamma’s leg so badly that it is still swollen.

W.H. Hale, when interviewed yesterday, said that cats were the greatest tribulation in his life. He said that his wife had kept him out of the back parlor all winter, as she had given it up to a couple of delicate kittens who were too weak to stand the noise downstairs with the other cats.

“My one consolation,” said Dr. Hale, “is the affection of Sankey, the young smoke cat. He loves me more than anything else and he will leave his meal any time he hears my footsteps on the outside of the door. He is the one cat that loves me more than Mrs. Hale.”

Sankey proved his affection by sticking his paw playfully in Mr. Hale’s right ear.

Romeo and Juliet are no longer members of the Hale colony. Happily, they are in the same household.

Novie, who won a prize at the cat show, and also a year’s subscription to the Cat Journal, is quite kittenish and playful after a short spell of the blues following Teddy Gold’s departure for Florida. Novie cannot read the Cat Journal, but he likes to play with it.

Tigie, the stuffed tiger cat that Mrs. Hale loved better than any other cat in the world, is now wearing the medals and ribbons won by Emmy Lou, at the Cat Show. Emmy Lou was an exact counterpart of Tigie.

Testimonials
Following are a few extracts from 6,666 letters received by Mrs. Hale from friends to who she has given or sold cats:

“She is certainly a credit to your cate and training. It may be a satisfaction to you to know that she is well cared for, and there are no children to annoy her. We expect to move out of the city next month, and she will probably enjoy the country air and increased supply of milk.”

“Yes, I have the cat with the big head and I grow more attached to him every day. I want to know his age and if he will get larger. He certainly enjoys soft pillows and the best of everything. He sits on a chair while we dine, but does not make any fuss at all. He has excellent manners. He only eats liver, fish and fowl. He has a thorough brushing every morning, which he thoroughly enjoys. “

“Tittlemouse remains perfectly contented and perfectly happy. She has the best of care, and all the family are very fond of her, dog included. She and my dog are simply perfect friends. I am very proud to have such a cat as she is.”

“I will be glad to have the cat any time for my stable, where it will have a good comfortable home, plenty to eat, and all the mice to amuse herself with that her heart can wish, and now and then a rat to exercise herself with.”

“I received your postal card in regard to Ptolemy, and was very sorry I could not get him, but any time you have one like him please let me know, as I would consider it a very kind favour.”

“I will wait until you get a grey and white Tom or other like the one that was marked 65 in the show. My mother fell dead in love with that one, so I will wait and see if you get one like it or as near to it as you can get.”

MOURNS FOR EMMY LOU, PRIDE OF CAT ASYLUM – The New York Times, March 16th, 1905
Emmy Lou is lost. Emmy is the tiger cat which took prises at the Atlantic City cat show, after having been rescued from the street by Mrs William Henry Hale of 40 First Place, Brooklyn. There is alwaye a bowl of hot milk or a choice cut of meat at Mrs. Hale’s for any stray tabby who happens in. From the depth of her bereavement Mrs. Hale said last night:

“Emmy was what is commonly known as a tiger cat. She had not a white mark on her. Her markings were broad and black. I do not know that any one would take her for anything but a common tabby. On first meeting her it does not necessarily show that she won prizes over Schell and Langsam, the German champions. Emmy Lou has greenish eyes and a very loud, strong meow. I would know her voice anywhere. She was being taken to Buffalo by Mrs. J. C. Lathrop in a cat basket that had just been bought for her, and was at the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street Station of the New York Central when a train came along on the other track and frightened her. Quick as a flash she jumped out of the basket and ran up the track toward One Hundred and Twenty-sixth Street. The station men ran after her, but rather than be caught she jumped to the street. And that was the last seen of her. If any man, woman, or child sees a cat they think might be Emmy Lou I wish they would communicate with me.

“At the time Emmy Lou appeared I was taking care of fourteen cats. It was a wet Sunday, and knowing that no cat but a hungry cat would be out in such weather I fed the stranger. Some of the cats were sick that night, and I was up with them. At 4 o’clock on Monday morning I saw Emmy’s little face pressed against the window pane. I took her in and gave her all the warm milk she could drink. After that she used to come and see me early every morning. When the extremely cold weather came I adopted her.

"Emmy and I were great friends. I never strike a cat. Boxing a cat’s ears is liable to make her deaf. I have a cat now named ‘Gladdie,’ which proves what scolding will do. She was so named because when we took her in, the last of May, 1904 she did hardly anything but purr and eat. I thought it was time for me to talk to her. ‘See here, Gladdie, suppose the other thirteen or fourteen cats would all insist on nothing but softshell crabs and ice cream, where would I be? Now, you'll just have to stop it. I cannot use any partiality.’ Gladdie looked at me with her large orange eyes, and winked and blinked as if she understood it all — and when I next offered her liver she ate it.”

Mrs. Hale showed nine cats, all formerly waifs, at the Brooklyn Cat Show last January and won thirteen prizes.