_GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS._
(_Continued._)
A short time ago I had two kittens which were born in the Zoological
Gardens, Regent's Park, and bred between the domestic tortoiseshell and
the British wild cat, that have for several years occupied together a cage
in the winter aviary. This crescent-shaped row of cages, although
originally an aviary, has for some years been occupied by animals of a
decidedly bird-fancying character. There the animals in question may have
been seen, and in an adjoining cage a specimen of the Viverrine cat--so
named from the somewhat civet-like form of the muzzle. But it is a true
cat, every inch, and bears every cat in countenance by its love of fish.
Being most unusually adroit at capturing fish from shallow water, it is
commonly named the Fishing Cat. The specimen I allude to was brought from
India by the Prince of Wales, and graciously presented to the Zoological
Society. These cages contain also other animals of interest, such as the
Civet, Poradoxure, etc.[1] But to return to the kittens. When only able
to crawl, as I examined the litter, the little things spat most
vigorously, for probably they had not before seen anybody in the cage
except their keeper. The two I selected were a red tabby and a
tortoiseshell. The red tabby was a male, as red tabby cats generally are,
and he decidedly resembled his father, if not in colour, in disposition
and temperament. I took them from the litter at the early age of nearly
seven weeks. The contrast between their behaviour and that of tame kittens
was most remarkable. At the slightest surprise or displeasure they would
spit with wide-open mouth and a display of ivory fangs in a most
threatening manner. When I gave them milk, they would in a very unpolite
fashion growl together. They never ate near each other, but pouncing upon
their meat and carrying it to a far corner apart, would growl in a most
warning tone, and answer back again and again till the last morsel should
be consumed. On one occasion they had quite a desperate tug of war over
the same piece of meat, and it was with some difficulty that I could part
them, for fear of using too much force and hurting their young teeth. But
when not feeding, the tortoiseshell became not only docile, but most
affectionate and pleasing, in her little ways. She would fondle and purr
in a manner that won the affection of my heart. On the other hand, the
tabby was, at the best, passively composed, but always watchful, and never
certain in mood. I can hardly say which of the two I prized most. In the
one I admired the manifestations of its inborn nature, and would on no
account check or discourage such signs of high blood. Towards the other I
felt there was a mutual and spiritual bond of affection, which I can
better conceive than describe. Dryden's lines upon a tame leopard express
very nearly my feelings respecting these two little beasts (see page 21).
Unfortunately, the kittens died very suddenly, and at the same hour, after
a short career of three months. There is reason to suspect that poison was
the cause of their untimely end. Nothing now remains but the stuffed
skins, mounted in admirable style, under a glass case.
Probably the veneration with which the Egyptians regarded the cat was in
no way diminished by the probable utility of their revered favourites in
keeping under the increase of such remarkably prolific and fast-growing
rodents as are mice and rats; and it is reasonable to suppose these little
animals must have been harmful in the vast stores of grain which are
recorded in ancient history. Pussy's valuable qualities as a mouser are to
the present day too well known to need much comment. A friend of mine told
me the other day that once, when he removed to another house, and had
also deposited his favourite cat, with the usual precaution of buttering
paws, and consolation of a more solid nature in addition, the servant, on
entering the kitchen in the morning, found fourteen mice lying dead on the
hearth-rug, most of them decapitated. The usual preference which cats have
for the heads of their prey is remarkable, and has been noticed in both
tame and wild animals. One of the most noticeable characteristics of the
cat kind is the silent tread. Even the footfall of the huge tigers, as
they pace to and fro in their roomy cages or in their open-air enclosures
at the Zoological Gardens is hardly to be heard. For not only is the cat a
digitigrade animal, walking absolutely "tiptoe" in the most perfect
manner, but the toes are furnished with a most elastic membrane,
constituting what are commonly called pussy's "pads." She is thus enabled
to skulk stealthily in search of her desired prey, and can on all
occasions move with that unobtrusive grace and silent ease peculiarly
characteristic of her race. The retractile construction of the peculiarity
sharp claws is also a beautiful adaptation to the requirements of these
Nimrods of creation. Generally these useful weapons are held back, nicely
sheathed and safe from harm. They are readily, however, protruded at will
when required for offensive or defensive service, in holding secure an
unfortunate victim, or as hooks to assist in climbing trees, etc. The
senses of the cat are all highly developed. That of hearing is most acute.
The sense of smell is not so acute as in the dog and some other
animals--at least, it is assumed so; but it is quite evident that the ear
and the eye are put to the best service by the cat. But dirt and bad
smells are much disliked, while, on the other hand, there is a remarkable
partiality for some smells. Cats appear to enjoy the perfume of many
flowers, and their fondness for the odour of cat-mint or valerian is
remarkable. As may be noticed by the prompt, unerring manner in which a
cat will dart at a mouse or any small moving object in almost total
darkness, she has the power to see near objects without the light required
by ourselves and most animals. Absolutely total darkness is evidently not
advantageous to pussy's vision, and the assertion that the cat can see
better in the dark must not be regarded in an abstract, but in a
comparative, sense. The pupil of the eye has the round shape, as in
ourselves, only during darkness, when it is dilated so as to receive every
ray of light available. By day, on the other hand, when there is more
light than the eye requires, the pupil contracts to an ellipse, or, in the
strongest light, to a mere line. This peculiarity is absent in the lion
and tiger and a few others. A peculiarity in the cat and some other
animals may be noticed in the highly-developed bristles, commonly called
"whiskers," but more appropriately termed "feelers." These are not, as
some may suppose, only common hairs of larger growth, but are deeply
implanted, having large swollen roots, somewhat in the form of young
onions, and are connected with highly sensitive nerves which communicate
with the brain. By means of these bristles the cat is enabled to feel its
way the more stealthily, avoiding the clumsy disturbance of surrounding
objects that might impede its progress.
It will be seen by the foregoing brief description of its leading physical
characteristics that the cat is, of all animals, the most perfectly and
beautifully formed for the fulfilments of the instincts and requirements
of its nature. The silent, soft tread of the velvet paw, with the finely
pointed and carefully preserved claws, the terrible fangs, the keen eye,
and the light, easy, soft, yet powerful and unerring, action of the whole
body--all these render the cats, from the great Bengal tiger downwards,
the most charming and graceful creatures in animated nature.
The panther, sure the noblest next the hind,
And fairest creature of the spotted kind;
Oh, could her inborn stains be washed away,
She were too good to be a beast of prey!
How can I praise or blame, and not offend,
Or how divide the frailty from the friend?
Her faults and virtues lie so mixed that she
Nor wholly stands condemned, nor wholly free.
But there is yet another physical peculiarity worthy of passing notice;
viz., the remarkably loose skin. This is connected with the flesh by a
layer of very loose fibres. The cat's loose skin serves her well on many
occasions as a shield of protection, especially when scuffling with her
neighbours--an occurrence which will sometimes take place. This
peculiarity may be occasionally seen well exhibited in the jaguars and
other great cats at the Zoological Gardens, more especially when they are
young and sportive. To see the powerful manner in which these animals
embrace each other with their great hooked claws may cause some
apprehension that serious consequences are about to result. If the skin
were tightly fitted to the body, as with the horse, hog, ox, and other
herbivorous animals, the result of such violent scufflings would be very
serious. But, as may be seen, the animals do not get good hold of each
other, as the skin is dragged round with the claws, and the hold is lost.
The following account of the sagacity of a young black-and-white tom-cat,
which occurred about twenty years ago, is, I think, worth relating as
illustrative of the retentive memory and the remarkable prescience which
many cats appear to possess as a peculiar mental endowment.
The house being covered with corrugated iron, and the spaces formed by the
corrugations where the roof met the walls not being stopped, but left open
to admit air into the roof, the whole space of the unused interior of the
roof was a favourite breeding-place for countless broods of sparrows and
starlings. The roof was accessible to human and other intruders by a small
trap-door above the lobby at the top of the staircase. It was a square
house, of good dimensions, but of only two stories. I have described these
particulars in order to be better understood in narrating the
circumstances.
It so happened that we wanted some small boards which had been stored away
in the roof, and we entered by the aid of a light ladder; and it also
happened that puss, unobserved, followed the example of the man-servant
and myself, but from quite another motive, prompted, doubtless, by the
chirping of the birds, it being early summer. As soon, however, as we
could get Tom down, we closed the trap, and returned the ladder to its
proper place. About a month afterwards, I had to resort to the roof again,
and accordingly went for the ladder, which was kept against a fence at
another part of the premises. As soon as I brought the ladder into the
back yard, and laid it on the ground, in order to unfasten a door leading
straight into the hall, Tom became suddenly most excited with delight. He
must have seen the ladder often since he entered the roof by it, as it was
used for various purposes, such as lighting the outdoor lamps,
window-cleaning, etc. But now he at once conceived, by a most sagacious
inference, my intention. He paced about the yard, close to the ladder,
tail erect, and talking as only an earnest and happy cat can talk.
Immediately I took the ladder in and hoisted it through the well of the
staircase, he scaled it like a squirrel, and was waiting for me to follow
upstairs. As soon then as I drew the ladder up, and raised the trap with
the end of it, and while it was in my hands, he clambered up and out of
sight. Before going up myself I thought it best to await Tom's return, and
there was but little time lost before he came down, stile by stile, with a
sparrow in his mouth. Then I at once brought down what I wanted, closed
the trap, returned the ladder to its place, and the birds afterwards
enjoyed undisturbed safety and peace.
There was, about the same time, a tortoiseshell cat at the house of a
relative which became much attached to me. Her affection was so strong
that she even knew my knock at the front door from that of anybody else.
On hearing my knock, she would speak in her loving and expressive tone,
and meet me in the hall. She was an adult cat, the mother of many kittens,
and yet, notwithstanding the cares of life, she delighted in a most
remarkable little eccentricity of her own. It was the peculiar habit of
taking the pendent lobe of my ear into her mouth and sucking it with
charming avidity. The peculiar sensation felt under the operation, though
not unpleasant to me, was not enjoyed or tolerated by other persons, and
she was sometimes rather rudely repulsed when trying to practise upon
strangers.
Those who admire and observe the habits of cats may have noticed that when
two are snugly engaged together in dressing their fur, they are often
mutually pleased in paying particular attention to the face and ears of
each other. A short time ago I was pleased and amused with two charming
kittens upon my knee. They were each equally resolved to lick the face and
ears of the other, and tried hard to prevail. Eventually, one became
resolute, and placing her left arm round her brother's shoulder and her
right paw upon his cheek, she licked and nibbled into his short, round
velvet ear (for they were little over two months old at the time), to her
utmost satisfaction and his evident enjoyment.
As is well known, the cat often evinces to a remarkable degree an
instinctive power, if such it may be called, of finding its way back to a
home from which it has been removed. Some years ago, an officer of the
Royal Marines, upon promotion, removed from his private quarters at
Stonehouse, Plymouth, to Portsmouth. Having a favourite cat,--a black male
of about twelve months old,--he resolved to send it to Portsmouth by rail
in a hamper. It arrived at its destination safely enough, but on the
afternoon of the day following, which was Sunday, it was missing, but was
actually found in the garden of its beloved home at Stonehouse on the
evening of Wednesday in the ensuing week. It was at once recognised and
taken charge of by a kind neighbour, who knew the cat well. Considering it
went by train, secured in a hamper, it is difficult even to conjecture by
what means it was guided homewards, a distance of about a hundred and
thirty miles as the crow flies, and within ten or eleven days. I was
living at Stonehouse at the time this strange occurrence took
place,--about nineteen years ago,--and narrate the particulars from
memory.