Pluto-this was the cat's name-was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.
Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character-through the instrumentality of the fiend Intemperance-had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse.
I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others.
I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife.
At length, I even offered her personal violence.
My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition.
I not only neglected, but ill-used them.
For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way.
But my disease grew upon me-for what disease is like Alcohol?-and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish-even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence.