my dear helen:

i am so glad to know that you are coming home next week, that i cannot think of any thing else. there is only one drawback to my pleasure, and that is, i am so ashamed to have you see me in such a plight. i told you, in my last letter, that my fur was beginning to come off. your grandfather has tried several things of his, which are said to be good for hair; but they have not had the least effect. for my part i don't see why they should; fur and hair are two very different things, and i thought at the outset there was no use in putting on my skin what was intended for the skin of human heads, and even on them don't seem to work any great wonders, if i can judge from your grandfather's head, which you know is as bald and pink and shiny as a baby's. however, he has been so good to me, that i let him do any thing he likes, and every day he rubs in some new kind of stuff, which smells a little worse than the last one. it is utterly impossible for me to get within half a mile of a rat or a mouse. i might as well fire off a gun to let them know i am coming, as to go about scented up so that they can smell me a great deal farther off than they can see me. if it were not for this dreadful state of my fur, i should be perfectly happy, for i feel much better than i ever did before in my whole life, and am twice as fat as when you went away. i try to be resigned to whatever may be in store for me, but it is very hard to look forward to being a fright all the rest of one's days. i don't suppose such a thing was ever seen in the world as a cat without any fur. this morning your grandfather sat looking at me for a long time and stroking his chin: at last he said, "do you suppose it would do any good to shave the cat all over?" at this i could not resist the impulse to scream, and your mother said, "i do believe the creature knows whenever we speak about her." of course i do! why in the world shouldn't i! people never seem to observe that cats have ears. i often think how much more careful they would be if they did. i have many a time to see them send children out of the room, and leave me behind, when i knew perfectly well that the children would neither notice nor understand half so much as i would. there are some houses in which i lived, before i came to live with you, about which i could tell strange stories if i chose.

cæsar pretends that he likes the looks of little spots of pink skin, here and there, in fur; but i know he only does it to save my feelings, for it isn't in human nature--i mean in cat's nature--that any one should. you see i spend so much more time in the society of men and women than of cats, that i find myself constantly using expressions which sound queerly in a cat's mouth. but you know me well enough to be sure that every thing i say is perfectly natural. and now, my dear helen, i hope i have prepared you to see me looking perfectly hideous. i only trust that your love for me will not be entirely killed by my unfortunate appearance. if you do seem to love me less, i shall be wretched, but i shall still be, always,

your affectionate pussy.