[Illustration: CHAPTER XI.]
_Of Pussy Poorly, and of some Curiosities of the Cats’-meat Trade._
“So sickly Cats neglect their fur attire,
And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.”
_Bombastes Furioso._
A writer on Cats, when speaking of the necessity of administering physic
in certain cases, says that the bare thought of so doing is sufficient to
daunt at least nine-tenths of the lady Cat-owners of the kingdom; and
gives these directions to assist the timid fair one in her arduous
task:--
“Have ready a large cloth and wrap the patient therein, wisping the cloth
round and round her body, so that every part of her, except the head, is
well enveloped. Any one may then hold it between their knees, while you
complete the operation. Put on a pair of stout gloves, and then with a
firm hand open the animal’s mouth wide!”
Poor Pussy! From the formidable nature of these preparations, one would
almost fancy that it was a full-grown tigress about to be doctored, and
its iron mouth required a firm hand to wrench apart the jaws. To such
inexperienced ladies as could require these directions, the writer’s
further advice not to pour down the Cat’s throat too much at a time, comes
very seasonably, but I am not too sure that Pussy will not be choked for
all that. When properly managed, says he, “a sick Cat may be made to take
pills or any other drug without risk of a severe scratching on your part,
and danger of a dislocated neck on the part of suffering Grimalkin.”
I can readily understand that there is small fear of the Cat’s claws
penetrating through five or six folds of stout calico, but about the
safety of its neck I have my doubts. One, indeed, feels almost inclined to
add, as a further safeguard for the trembling doctor, a suit of chain-mail
or a diver’s dress, such as the man wears who braves the dangers of the
tank at the Polytechnic.
Seriously speaking, a lady who is kind to her domestic pets will have no
trouble in giving them medicine. When they are Kittens, they should be
taught to lie upon their backs, and in this attitude, with the head
raised, the physic is easily enough administered. A sick Cat, too, does
not fly from those for whom it has an affection; on the contrary, I have
always known Cats to come for sympathy to those who nurse and feed them.
Administer the physic with a teaspoon, if liquid, and be most careful when
the dose has been given, to gently wash from the Cat’s face or breast any
drop of the stuff that may have fallen there, so that she may not find the
nasty taste lingering about her when she goes to clean herself, as
otherwise she has the unpleasantness of the physic long after the doses
have been discontinued.
These are some of the complaints from which Cats suffer, and the best
methods to be adopted for their cure:--
A cat is sometimes affected by a sort of distemper which attacks it
between the first and third month of its life. The Cat or Kitten, when
thus suffering, refuses its food, seems to be sensitive of cold, and
creeps close to the fire or hides itself in any warm corner. A mild
aperient--small doses of brimstone, for instance--should be administered.
Whilst ill, feed the Cat upon light biscuit spread with butter. A little
manna is a good thing if the Cat will eat it, and the animal should be
kept warm and quiet. If, however, you see the sick Cat frequently
vomiting, the vomit being a bright yellow frothy liquid, be very careful
of the animal should she be a pet, for then the distemper is taking an
ugly turn, and requires special attention. Probably before long the
sickness will change to diarrhœa, which in the end will turn to dysentery
if prompt measures be not taken. When the vomiting first comes on, give
the Cat half a teaspoonful of common salt in about two teaspoonsful of
water, as an emetic, for the purpose of clearing the stomach. Then to stop
the sickness, give half a spoonful of melted beef marrow free from skin.
If this is not found sufficient, the dose may be repeated.
Cats just reaching their full growth are liable to have fits. Male cats
almost always have, at this time, a slight attack of delirium. When coming
on, it may easily be known by an uneasy restlessness and a wildness of the
eyes. In bad cases, the Cat, when seized with delirium, will rush about
with staring eyes, sometimes fly at the window, but more often fly from
your presence and hide itself in the darkest place it can find. If it have
a regular fit, with frothing at the mouth, quivering limbs, etc., as in a
human being so attacked, Lady Cust recommends that one of the ears be
slightly slit with a sharp pair of scissors in the thin part of the ear.
You must then have some warm water ready and hold the ear in it, gently
rubbing and encouraging the blood to flow, a few drops even will afford
relief. During the attack, the Cat does not feel, nor does it resist in
the least, therefore the most timid lady might perform this little
operation without fear. But where the symptoms are not so violent, a
gentle aperient may do all that is required. A good alterative for them is
half a teaspoonful of common salt in two teaspoonfuls of water, as
mentioned above, though in this case it will not cause vomiting. Female
Cats, Lady Cust says, are less subject to fits of delirium, and never have
them after they have once nursed young ones, unless frightened into them,
which all Cats easily are. In this, however, I think she is mistaken, for
I have had a Cat so affected when nursing her second litter of Kittens.
Another Cat of mine was seized with delirium, rushed suddenly out of the
kitchen, and disappeared mysteriously for three days. At the end of that
time, the servant going to light the fire under the copper, the animal
crawled forth from the copper hole very thin and weak, but otherwise
seemingly cured of its strange complaint. All cats are subject to
diarrhœa, and the signs of their so suffering are to be found in dull
eyes, staring coat and neglected toilet, and the animal is very likely to
die of the complaint unless the proper remedies be applied. As soon as it
is discovered, give the Cat some luke warm new milk, with a piece of fresh
mutton suet (the suet the size of a walnut to a teacupful of milk) melted,
and mixed in it. If the patient be too ill to lap, administer the mixture
a teaspoonful every two hours. Take care not to give it too much so as to
make it sick. If there is no bile, you should give the Cat (full grown) a
grain and a half of the grey powder used in such cases. If the diarrhœa
still continue, Lady Cust suggests that a teaspoonful of the chalk mixture
used by human beings, be tried, with seven or eight drops of tincture of
rhubarb, and four or five of laudanum, every few hours until the complaint
ceases. Cats will continue ill, her Ladyship says, for a few days, their
eyes even fixed, but still with watching and care they may be cured. A
teaspoonful at a time of pure meat gravy should be given now and then,
but not until nearly two hours after medicine, to keep up the strength,
until appetite returns.
There is a disease resembling the chicken-pox, which appears in the shape
of eruptions upon a Cat’s head and throat. It is, in these cases,
advisable to rub the bad places with flour of brimstone mixed with fresh
hog’s lard, without salt. The Cat will lick some of this ointment off, and
swallow it, which operation will assist the cure. Much of the necessity
for physic is, however, avoided when the Cat is able to get some grass to
eat, without which, I believe, it can never be in good health. I have a
Tom Cat, which seems to be particularly partial to ribbon grass, but this,
I should say, is quite an epicurean taste of his. According to Lady Cust,
who is the greatest, indeed, the only authority on such matters, the hair
swallowed by the Cat in licking itself, and conveyed into the stomach and
intestines, where it remains in balls or long rolls, causing dulness and
loss of appetite, is digested easily by adhering to the long grass; or if
the mass is too large, as is often the case in the moulting season,
especially with Angora Cats, it will be seen thrown up: long rolls of hair
with grass; perfectly exclusive of any other substance. But, again, the
Cat itself seems to know that grass is very needful for the preservation
of its health. The food and prey it eats often disorder the stomach. On
such occasions, it eats a little grass, which, however, goes no further
than the commencement of the œsophagus; this is irritated by the jagged
and saw-like margins of the blades of grass, and this irritation is, by a
reflex action, communicated to the stomach, which, by a spasmodic action,
rejects its vitiated secretion.
It is very cruel and injurious to the mother to destroy the whole litter
of kittens at once, unless it has some feline friend or relation to
relieve it of its milk: one of its grown-up children, or its husband, will
generally do so, without much persuasion. If deprived of this resource,
however, the frequent destruction of the kittens will, in all probability,
cause cancers, and in the end kill the Cat. If the mother die, and the
kittens be left orphans, they may be easily reared by hand. Feed them with
new milk, sweetened with brown sugar--plain milk is too astringent. To
imitate the Cat’s lick, wipe the kittens with a nearly dry sponge, and
soap and water. A good way to feed them is to use a well-saturated fine
sponge, which the kittens will suck. The most common way, however, is to
pour the milk gently down the throat from a pointed spoon. I knew a lady
who fed a pet kitten from her mouth, and it grew up extraordinarily
affectionate and sagacious. But I have seen many cases where a Cat has
conceived a strong affection towards a person who has never fed it, and
scarcely ever noticed it.
I lately heard, on good authority, of a case of a lady, one of whose Cats
came every morning to her bed-room door, at six o’clock precisely, making
so much noise mewing, that it would awaken every one in the house, if she
did not hasten to get up, open the door, and shake hands with it, after
which ceremony it went quietly away. But, as a rule, these animals do not
tax their masters’ good nature to such an extent: a pat on the head now
and then, a kind word now and again, nothing more is required.
Mr. Kingston says:--“I was calling on a delightful and most clever kind
old lady, who showed me a very beautiful Tabby Cat, coiled up on a chair
before the fire.
“‘Seventeen years ago,’ said she, ‘that Cat’s mother had a litter: they
were all ordered to be drowned, with the exception of one; the servant
brought me that one; it was a tortoiseshell. ‘No,’ I said, ‘that will
always be looking dirty; I will choose another;’ so I put my hand into
the basket, and drew forth this tabby. The tabby has stuck by me ever
since. When she came to have a family, she disappeared, but the rain did
not, for it came pouring down through the ceiling, and it was discovered
that Dame Tabby had made a lying-in hospital for herself in the thatched
roof of our house. The damage she did cost us several pounds; so we asked
a bachelor friend, who had a good cook, fond of Cats, to take care of
tabby the next time she gave signs of having a family, as we knew that she
would be well fed. We sent her in a basket, well covered up, and she was
carefully shut into a room, where she soon was able to exhibit a progeny
of young mewlings. More than the usual number were allowed to survive; and
it was thought that she would remain quietly where she was; but, at the
first opportunity, she made her escape, and down she came all the length
of the village; and I heard her mewing at my bed-room door, early in the
morning, to be let in. When I had stroked her back, and spoken kindly to
her, off she went to look after her nurselings. From that day, every
morning down she came regularly to see me, and would not go away till she
had been spoken to and caressed. Having satisfied herself that I was
alive and well, back she would go again. She never failed to pay me that
one visit in the morning, and never came twice in the day, till she had
weaned her kittens, and then every day she came back, and nothing would
induce her to go away again: I had not the heart to force her back. From
that day to this she has always slept at the door of my room.’ Never was
there more evident affection exhibited in the feline race.”
With respect to a Cat’s food, I think it should not have too much meat;
and I should prefer feeding it on scraps that have come from the table, to
buying Cats’ meat. If their taste be consulted upon the subject, almost
all Cats are passionately fond of lights, particularly as they grow old;
and one elderly red-haired gentleman in particular, with whom I had once
the honour of being acquainted, was in the habit of watching the pot
whilst the lights boiled, with lively interest, sniffing the steam when
the saucepan-lid was raised, and licking his lips in anticipation of joys
to come, when he could gorge himself to his heart’s content. As he was a
very old gentleman, and enjoyed the privileges of age, he had unlimited
lights supplied to him; and it was his habit to eat as much as he could
possibly swallow, and then lie down within sight of the plate, and catch
uneasy snatches of sleep, waiting until he could go on again with his
orgie, but racked meanwhile by horrid fears lest anyone else should get at
his food, and only dozing off, as the saying is, one eye at a time. This
same red Cat one day, when the servants were out, and I was alone in the
garden, came to me mewing in a strange sort of way, looking, as I thought,
very anxious, and running backwards and forwards between me and the house.
At last, following him as he seemed to wish me to do, I accompanied him to
the street-door, where I found the butcher’s boy waiting with the lights.
In giving a Cat the scrapings of dirty plates, it is as well, if you value
the animal’s life, to remove the fish bones, should there be any among the
leavings. Very frequently, as most Cats bolt their food, they get a bone
sticking in their mouth or throat, of which they are unable to relieve
themselves, and suffer much pain without their owner’s guessing at the
cause of their discomforture. A lady in a house I was staying at, had a
Cat that got what was afterwards supposed to be a fish bone sticking in
its mouth, far at the back, in such a way that it was unable to close its
jaws. For two or three days it remained in this state, refusing all food,
and looking in a woeful plight; indeed, we afterwards supposed that it
could not even lap; but at the time, although we made several examinations
of the sufferer, we could not discover what ailed it. At last, some one
suggested seeking the aid of a veterinary surgeon, whose dignity seemed
just a little bit ruffled by being called in for a Cat, and who, when he
did come, did not bring his instruments with him. Nevertheless, he found
out what was wrong, and forcing open the Cat’s jaws, put in his finger to
loosen what he called a fish-bone. Being rather fearful of getting a bite,
he was somewhat hasty, and the bone jerked out, flew into the air, as he
released his hold of the Cat’s head, whereupon the Cat caught the bone as
it fell, and instantly swallowed it, leaving us until this day in the dark
as to the size and nature of the bone, and indeed, rather doubtful whether
it was a bone at all.
In cases where the Cat is accidentally crippled, or should be so ill that
it were better to put it out of its misery at once, the best plan is to
send for a chemist, who for a small sum would administer the poison upon
your own premises. I have known cases where men servants entrusted to take
the animal to the chemist’s shop, have thrown it down in the street, or
killed it with unnecessary torture themselves, and pocketed the money
they should have paid for the poisoning.
To administer the poison yourself is by no means a wise course, as
probably you may give too much or too little, and in either case defeat
your object. I know for a fact, that two medical students once barbarously
practising experiments with poison on an unhappy Cat, twice poisoned the
animal, as they supposed, and once actually buried it, of course not very
deeply, after which it recovered again, and crawled into the house, rather
to their alarm, as you may suppose, as on the second occasion it happened
in the dead of night.
Those unable to procure the assistance of a doctor or chemist, can easily
drown a Cat by putting it into a pail of water, and pressing another pail
down upon it, care being taken of course to handle the Cat gently, so as
not to alarm it before the last moment.
Concerning the Cats’-meat trade, Mr. Henry Mayhew gives many curious
particulars, of which the following are some of the most amusing:--
“The Cats’-meat carriers frequently sell as much as ten pennyworth to one
person, and there has been a customer to the extent of sixteen pennyworth.
This person, a black woman, used to get out on the roof of the house,
and throw it to the Cats on the tiles, by which conduct she brought so
many stray Cats round about the neighbourhood, that the parties in the
vicinity complained of the nuisance. The noise of about a hundred strange
Cats, a little before feeding-time, about ten in the morning, was
tremendous; and when the meat was thrown to them, the fighting and
confusion was beyond description.
“There was also a woman in Islington who used to have fourteen pounds of
meat a-day. The person who supplied her was often paid two and three
pounds at a time. She had often as many as thirty Cats at a time. Every
stray Cat that came she would take in and support.
“The carriers give a great deal of credit; indeed, they take but little
ready money. On some days they do not come home with more than 2_s._ One
with a middling walk, pays for his meat 7_s._ 6_d._ per day; for this he
has half-a-hundred weight: this produces him as much as 11_s._ 6_d._, so
that his profit is 4_s._, which, I am assured, is about a fair average of
the earnings of the trade. One carrier is said to have amassed £1,000 at
the business: he usually sold from 1½ to 2 cwt. every morning, so that his
profits were generally from 16_s._ to £1 per day. But the trade is much
worse now: there are so many at it, they say, that there is barely a
living for any.”
A carrier assured Mr. Mayhew he seldom went less than thirty, and
frequently forty miles, through the streets every day. The best districts
are among the houses of tradesmen, mechanics, and labourers. The coachmen
in the mews at the back of the squares are very good customers.
“‘The work lays thicker there,’ said one carrier. ‘Old maids are bad,
though very plentiful customers: they cheapen the carriers down so that
they can scarcely live at the business: they will pay one half-penny, and
owe another, and forget that after a day or two.’ The Cats’-meat dealers
generally complain of their losses from bad debts: their customers require
credit frequently to the extent of £1.
“‘One party owes me 15_s._ now,’ said a carrier, ‘and many 10_s._; in
fact, very few people pay ready money for the meat.’
“The best days for the Cats’-meat business are Mondays, Tuesdays, and
Saturdays. A double quantity of meat is sold on the Saturday; and on that
day and Monday and Tuesday, the weekly customers generally pay.”
“The supply of food for Cats and Dogs is far greater than may be generally
thought.
“‘Why, sir,’ said one of the dealers, ‘can you tell me how many people’s
in London?’ On Mr Mayhew’s replying, upwards of two millions; ‘I don’t
know nothing whatever,’ said the man, ‘about millions, but I think there’s
a Cat to every ten people, aye, and more than that; and so, sir, you can
reckon.’”
Mr. Mayhew told him this gave a total of 200,000 Cats in London, but the
number of inhabited houses in the Metropolis was 100,000 more than this,
and though there was not a Cat to every house, still, as many lodgers as
well as householders kept Cats, he added, “that he thought the total
number of Cats in London might be taken at the same number as the
inhabited houses, or 300,000 in all.”
“‘There is not near half so many Dogs as Cats; I must know, for they all
knows me, and I serves about 200 Cats and 70 dogs. Mine’s a middling
trade, but some does far better. Some Cats has a hap’orth a day, some
every other day; werry few can afford a penn’orth, but times is inferior.
Dogs is better pay when you’ve a connection among ’em.’
“A Cats’-meat carrier who supplied me with information,” says the same
writer, “was more comfortably situated than any of the poorer classes that
I have yet seen. He lived in the front room of a second floor, in an
open and respectable quarter of the town, and his lodgings were the
perfection of comfort and cleanliness in an humble sphere. It was late in
the evening when I reached the house; I found the ‘carrier’ and his family
preparing the supper. In a large morocco leather easy chair sat the
Cats’-meat carrier himself; his blue apron and black shiny hat had
disappeared, and he wore a ‘dress’ coat and a black satin waistcoat
instead. His wife, who was a remarkably pretty woman, and of very
attractive manners, wore a ‘Dolly Varden’ cap, placed jauntily on the back
of her head, and a drab merino dress. The room was cosily carpeted; and in
one corner stood a mahogany ‘crib,’ with cane-work sides, in which one of
the children was asleep. On the table was a clean white table-cloth, and
the room was savoury with the steaks and mashed potatoes that were cooking
on the fire. Indeed, I have never yet seen greater comfort in the abodes
of the poor. The cleanliness and wholesomeness of the apartment were the
more striking from the unpleasant associations connected with the calling.
“It is believed by one who has been engaged at the business for 25 years,
that there are from 900 to 1,000 horses, averaging 2 cwt. of meat each,
little and big, boiled down every week; so that the quantity of cats’
and dogs’ meat used throughout London is about 200,000 lbs. per week, and
this, sold at the rate of 2½_d._ per lb., gives £2,000 a-week for the
money spent in cats’ and dogs’ meat, or upwards of £100,000 a-year, which
is at the rate of £100 worth sold annually by each carrier. The profits of
the carriers may be estimated at about £50 each per annum. The capital
required to start in this business varies from £1 to £2. The stock-money
needed is between 5_s._ and 10_s._ The barrow and basket, weights and
scales, knife and steel, or blackstone, cost about £2 when new, and from
15_s._ to 4_s._ second hand.
Mr. Mayhew also states the London dogs’ and cats’ meat carriers to number
at least one thousand. “The slaughtermen,” he says, “are said to reap
large fortunes very rapidly. Many of them retire after a few years and
take large farms. One after twelve years’ business retired with several
thousand pounds, and has now three large farms. The carriers are men,
women, and boys. Very few women do as well at it as the men. The carriers
are generally sad drunkards. Out of five hundred it is said three hundred
at least spend £1 a head a-week in drink. One party in the trade told me
that he knew a carrier who would spend 10_s._ in liquor at one sitting.
The profit the carriers make upon the meat is at present only a penny per
pound. In the summer time the profit per pound is reduced to a halfpenny,
owing to the meat being dearer, on account of its scarcity.”
The following are, as well as I can remember, the words of an old song, to
the tune of “Cherry Ripe,” that were sung in some play:--
“Cats’-meat, Cats’-meat--meat, I cry,
On a skewer--come and buy;
From Hyde Park Corner to Wapping Wall,
All the year I Cats’-meat bawl;
Cats’-meat, Cats’-meat--meat, I cry,
On a skewer--come and buy.”