[Illustration: CHAPTER XII.]
_Of Wild Cats, Cat Charming, etc._
Without entering into any very lengthened details, I will here make room
for a few natural history notes, collected from various sources:--
The Cat belongs to the same family as the lion, tiger, panther, leopard,
puma, serval, ocelot, and lynx. The tribe is, perhaps, one of the best
defined in zoology, all its members having characteristics of structure
and habit not to be confounded with those of other animals. The rounded
head and pointed ears, the long, lithe body, covered with fine silky hair,
and often beautifully marked; the silent, stealthy step, occasioned by
treading only on the fleshy ball of the foot; the sharp, retractile claws,
the large, lustrous eyes, capable, from the expansive power of the pupil,
of seeing in the dark; the whiskered lip, the trenchant, carnivorous
teeth, and the tongue covered with recurved, horny prickles, are common to
all.
In their habits and manners of life they are equally akin: they inhabit
the forest and the brake, sleeping away the greater part of their time,
and only visiting the glade and open plain when pressed by hunger. They
are for the most part nocturnal in their habits, being guided to their
prey by their peculiar power of vision, by their scent, and by their
hearing, which is superior to that of most other animals. Naturally, they
are strictly carnivorous, not hunting down their prey by a protracted
chase, like the wolf and dog, but by lying in wait, or by moving
stealthily with their supple joints and cushioned feet till within spring
of their victims, on which they dart with a growl, as if the muscular
effort of the moment were painful even to themselves. Whether the attack
be that of a tiger on a buffalo, or that of a Cat on a helpless mouse,
the mode of action is the same--a bound with the whole body from the
distance of many yards, a violent stroke with the fore foot, a clutch with
the claws, which are thrust from their sheaths, and a half-tearing,
half-sucking motion of the jaws, as if the animal gloated in ecstacy over
the blood of its victim.
This mode of life has gained for these animals the common epithets of
“cruel, savage, and blood-thirsty,” and has caused them to be looked upon
by the uninformed as monsters in creation. When its natural instincts
shall die out, then also will the tiger cease to exist; and were the whole
world peopled and cultivated equally with our own island, the feline
family would be limited to a single genus--namely, the humble Cat. But as
things are at present constituted, the valleys and plains of the tropics
are clothed with an extensive vegetation, supporting numerous herbivorous
animals, which could only be kept within due limits by the existence of
carnivora, such as the lion, tiger, leopard, and panther.
The distribution of the feline animals is governed by those conditions to
which we have alluded; and thus the puma inhabits the North American
prairie; the jaguar the savannahs of South America; the lion the arid
plains of Africa and Asia; the tiger and panther the tropical jungles of
the old world; the minor species, as the ocelot and lynx, have a wider
range in both worlds, while the domestic Cat associates with man in almost
every region. With the exception of the latter, none of the other genera
have been tamed or domesticated, so that they are strictly “wild beasts,”
against which man wages a ceaseless war of extirpation. It is true that,
in the East, one species of leopard is trained for hunting, but this only
very sparingly, and even then he does not follow the game by scent, but is
carried by the hunters, and only let loose when he is within a few bounds
of the animal. It must not be inferred, however, that they are untameable,
for every creature is capable, more or less, of being trained by man,
provided it receives due attention; and we have sufficient evidence in the
wonderful feats performed by the lions and tigers of Mr. Carter and Van
Amburgh, that the felinæ are by no means destitute of intelligent
docility. The truth is, there is no inducement to tame them, and thus the
Cat, the most diminutive of the family, and the only one of direct utility
to civilise, is likely to continue, as it ever has been, the sole
domesticated member.
The wild Cat is more plentiful in the wooded districts of Germany,
Prussia, and Hungary than in any other part of Europe. It is found also in
the north of Asia and in Nepaul. Besides the true wild Cat, there are
other species of felis which, on account of their resemblance to the
tiger, are called “Tiger-Cats”: they are found in all parts of the world,
with the exception of Europe. The largest of this family is the
Rimau-Dahan, an inhabitant of Sumatra. When full grown, it measures over
seven feet from the nose to the tip of its tail, which appendage, however,
monopolises three feet six of the whole. It is nearly two feet high at the
shoulders: its colour is light grey, striped and spotted with jet black.
One of the first specimens of this Tiger-Cat seen in England was brought
here by Sir Stamford Raffles, who procured two of them from the banks of
the Bencoolen River.
“Both specimens,” writes this gentlemen, “while in a state of confinement,
were remarkable for good temper and playfulness; no domestic kitten could
be more so; they were always courting intercourse with persons passing by,
and in the expression of their countenance, which was always open and
smiling, showed the greatest delight when noticed, throwing themselves on
their backs, and delighting in being tickled and rubbed. On board the
ship there was a small dog, who used to play round the cage and with the
animals; and it was amusing to observe the playfulness and tenderness with
which the latter came in contact with their inferior sized companion. When
fed with a fowl that died, they seized the prey, and after sucking the
head, and tearing it a little, amused themselves for hours in throwing it
about and jumping after it, in the manner that a Cat plays with a mouse
before it is quite dead. This species of Cat never seems to look on man or
children as his prey; and the natives assert that, when wild, it lives
chiefly on poultry, birds, and small deer.”
The colour of the wild Cat is more uniform than that of the domestic
species. On a ground colour of pale reddish-yellow are dark streaks
extending over the body and limbs, forming pretty much the sort of pattern
exhibited on the tiger’s robe. From the back of the neck to the spine, a
line of very dark spots extends to the tail, which is short and bushy, and
has a black tip. The feet and insides of the legs are yellowish grey. In
the female, which is smaller than the male, the colours are not as
distinct. The medium size of a full-grown male wild Cat is as
follows:--Length of head and body, 1 foot 10 inches; length of head, 3½
inches; length of ears, 2⅛ inches; length of tail, 11 inches. The wild Cat
affects rocky and densely-wooded districts, living in holes or in hollow
trees. According to Mr. St. John, a wild Cat will sometimes take up its
residence at no great distance from a house, and, entering the hen-houses
and outbuildings, carry off fowls or even lambs, in the most audacious
manner. Like other vermin, the wild Cat haunts the shores of lakes and
rivers, and it is, therefore, easy to know where to lay a trap for it.
Having caught and killed one of the colony, the rest of them are sure to
be taken, if the body of their slain relative be left in some place not
far from their usual hunting-ground, and surrounded with traps, as every
wild Cat which passes within a considerable distance of the place will to
a certainty come to it.
America has several Tiger-Cats, foremost amongst which may be mentioned
the Ocelot. Two of these animals were kept at the Tower of London, at the
time when that ancient fortress counted a menagerie among its other
attractions; and of one of these Mr. Bennett gives the following
description:--
“Body when full grown nearly 3 feet in length; tail rather more than 1
foot; medium height about 18 inches. Ground colour of fur grey, mingled
with a slight tinge of fawn, elegantly marked with numerous longitudinal
bands, the dorsal one continuous and entirely black, the lateral (six or
seven on each side) consisting for the most part of a series of elongated
spots, with black margins, sometimes completely distinct, sometimes
running together. The centre of each spot is of a deeper fawn than the
ground colour external to it; this deeper tinge is also conspicuous on the
head and neck, and on the outside of the limbs, all of which parts are
irregularly marked with full black lines and spots of various sizes. From
the top of the head, between the ears, there pass backwards towards the
shoulders, two or more, frequently four, uninterrupted diverging bands,
which enclose a narrow fawn-colour space, with a black margin; between
these there is a single longitudinal, somewhat interrupted, narrow black
line, occupying the centre of the neck above. Ears short and rounded,
externally margined with black, surrounding a large central whitish spot:
under parts of the body whitish, spotted with black, and the tail, which
is of the same ground colour with the body, also covered with black spots.
This animal is a native of Mexico and Paraguay: its home is the
gloomiest depths of the forest, where all day long it lies quiet, but,
as night advances, comes out to prey on birds and small quadrupeds. It is
said to be a particularly cunning creature, and sometimes, when other
stratagems to replenish his larder have failed, to stretch himself all
along the bough of a tree and sham death. The monkeys of the neighbourhood
have no greater enemy than the Ocelot, therefore it is only natural that,
when they find him dead, they would be much rejoiced, and call together
their friends and relations to see the pretty sight. The treacherous
ocelot is, however, meanwhile keeping sharp watch through a tiny chink of
his eyelids, and when the rejoicing is at its highest, up he jumps, and,
before the monkey-revellers can recover from their fright, at least a
couple will feel the fatal weight of his paw. There are several ocelots,
the painted, the grey, and the common, among others. In captivity, few
animals are more surly and spiteful, until they grow thoroughly well
acquainted with their keepers or others who court their notice. There is,
however, one weapon keener than the sharpest sword, more potent than the
Armstrong gun, more powerful than all the gunpowder and bullets ever made,
and yet so simple, that the boy yet in pinafores may direct it: to this
weapon the suspicious tiger-cat succumbs, and the name of this weapon
is--_Kindness_! So armed, the Rev. J. G. Wood conquered a body of Ocelots
exhibited at the menagerie. He says:--
“Several of these animals, when I first made their acquaintance, were
rather crabbed in disposition, snarled at the sound of a strange step,
growled angrily at my approach, and behaved altogether in a very unusual
manner, in spite of many amicable overtures. After a while, I discovered
that these creatures were continually and vainly attempting the capture of
certain flies, which buzzed about the cage; so I captured a few large
bluebottle flies, and poked them through a small aperture in the cage, so
that the Ocelot’s paw might not be able to reach my hand. At first the
ocelots declined to make any advance in return for the gift, but they soon
became bolder, and at last freely took the flies as fast as they were
caught. The ice was now broken, and in a very short time we were excellent
friends, the angry snarl being exchanged for a complacent composed
demeanour. The climax to their change of character was reached by giving
them a few leaves of grass, for which they were, as I thought they would
be, more anxious than for the flies. They tore the green blades out of my
hand, and enjoyed the unaccustomed dainty undisturbed. After this, they
were quite at their ease, and came to the front of the cage whenever I
passed.”
The Colocolo is another tiger-cat: it is an inhabitant of Guiana, and
though not more than a third the size of the Rimau-Dahan, is a most
formidable enemy to the smaller animals of the forests which it inhabits.
It is related by Mr. Wood that a specimen of this creature was shot on the
banks of a river, in Guiana, by an officer of rifles, who stuffed it, and
placed the skin to dry on the awning of his boat. As the vessel dropped
down the river, it passed under overhanging boughs of large trees, on
which rested numerous monkeys. Generally when a boat passed along a river,
the monkeys, which inhabit the trees that border its banks, displayed
great curiosity, and ran along the boughs, so as to obtain a close view of
the strange visitant. Before the Colocolo had been killed, the passage of
the boat had been attended, as usual, by the inquisitive monkeys, but when
the stuffed skin was exhibited on the awning, the monkeys were horribly
alarmed, and instead of approaching the vessel, as they had before done,
trooped off with prodigious yells of terror and rage. From this universal
fear which the sight of the animal occasioned to the monkeys, it may be
conjectured that the Colocolo is in the habit of procuring its food at the
expense of the monkey tribes. Of the tiger-cat in Africa, the Serval may
be taken as the type: it is about two feet long, exclusive of the tail,
which measures nine inches, and is a foot in height at the shoulders. Its
upper parts are clear yellow, and its under parts white, and its entire
body is spotted with black. Among the Dutch settlers it is known as
“Bosch-katte,” or “Bush-cat.” It is an inoffensive creature, _not_ easily
irritated, and behaving generally like our own familiar grimalkin.
The wild Cat of Ireland would seem to be quite as savage a fellow as his
Scotch cousin. In Maxwell’s “_Wild Sports of the West_,” is a story of one
of these animals, which was killed after a severe battle: it was of a
dirty grey colour, double the size of the common house Cat, and with
formidable teeth and claws. It was a female, and was tracked to its burrow
under a rock, and caught with a rabbit-net. So flimsy an affair, however,
was scorned by the fierce brute, which speedily rent a hole with its teeth
and claws, and was about to run off, when the lad who had set the snare
seized it by the neck. It was finally dispatched by a blow of an iron
spade. The lad, however, was so terribly wounded as to necessitate his
removal to an hospital, where he for some time remained, in peril of
lock-jaw.
The following narrative is furnished by Mr. St. John:--
“Once, when grouse shooting, I came suddenly, in the rough and rocky part
of the ground, upon a family of two old and three half-grown wild Cats. In
the hanging birch-woods that bordered some of the highland streams and
rocks, the wild Cat is still not uncommon; and I have heard their wild and
unearthly cries echo afar in the quiet night as they answer and call to
each other. I do not know a more harsh and unpleasant cry than the cry of
the wild Cat, or one more likely to be the origin of superstitious fears
in the mind of an ignorant Highlander. These animals have great skill in
finding their prey; and the damage they do to the game must be very great,
owing to the quantity of food which they require. When caught in a trap,
they fly, without hesitation, at any person who approaches them, not
waiting to be assailed. I have heard many stories of their attacking and
severely wounding a man, when their retreat has been cut off. Indeed, a
wild Cat once flew at me in a most determined manner. I was fishing in a
river in Sutherlandshire, and in passing from one pool to another, had
to climb over some rocky and broken ground. In doing so, I sank through
some rotten moss and heather up to my knees, almost upon a wild Cat, who
was concealed under it. I was quite as much startled as the animal herself
could be when I saw the wild looking beast rush out so unexpectedly from
between my legs, with every hair on her body standing on end, making her
look twice as large as she really was. I had three small sky-terriers with
me, who immediately gave chase, and pursued her till she took refuge in a
corner of a rock, where, perched in a kind of recess, out of reach of her
enemies, she stood with her hair bristled out, and spitting and growling
like a common Cat. Having no weapon with me, I laid down my rod, cut a
good sized stick, and proceeded to dislodge her. As soon as I came within
six or seven feet of the place, she sprang right at my face, over the
dogs’ heads. Had I not struck her in mid-air, as she leapt at me, I should
probably have got some severe wound. As it was, she fell, with her back
half broken, among the dogs, who, with my assistance, dispatched her. I
never saw an animal fight so desperately, or one so difficult to kill. If
a tame Cat has nine lives, a wild Cat must have a dozen.”
That a long course of domestic drill is insufficient to win a Cat from its
native savagery, is proved by the following scrap, lately culled from the
_Swansea Herald_:--
“A fight of more than ordinary interest took place on the bank of the
canal, near Kidwelly Quay, a few days ago. A domestic Cat, making her
usual walk in search of prey along the embankment, was attacked by an
otter of no small dimensions, and was in an instant tossed into the middle
of the canal, and there had to fight, not for the ‘belt,’ but for her
life, in an uncongenial element. But very soon they were observed by some
sailors and shippers, employed not far from the scene of contest, who
hastened to witness the strange occurrence. Either from fear of the men,
or of its formidable antagonist, the otter relinquished its hold, and poor
Puss safely landed, amidst hearty cheers and congratulations. But Puss,
not being content with the laurels she had won in the first contest, went
out again on the following day, and, strange to say, the old combatants
met again, and the otter, with undiminished pluck, attacked the Cat on
land. The contest became very severe, but ultimately the otter was glad to
regain its watery refuge, and leave Puss the victor the second time,
without suffering very considerably from an encounter with such a
formidable foe.”
A writer on the subject of wild cats says:--
“When a domesticated creature is no longer found in the wild state
anywhere, like the camel and the lama, or when a reasonable scepticism may
be entertained respecting the species assumed to be its savage ancestor,
as is the case with the dog and the fowl, the steps of all our reasonings
march straight into a blind alley, from which there is no issue, except by
turning back. I believe that there never was such an animal as a really
wild Pussy. The supposition involves an absurdity. Whose legs could she
rub in a state of nature? On whose arrival could she set up her back, and
arch her tail, and daintily tread on the same little spot? From what
carpet, Kidderminster or Brussels, could she gently pull the threads with
her claws? In what dairy could she skim the cream? From what larder could
she steal cold roast pheasant? And if she did not do these things, or some
of them, would she be a genuine Puss? No, no! I believe that Adam and Eve
had a nice little tortoiseshell to purr between them, as they sat chatting
on a sunny bank, and that a choice pair of tabbies slumbered, with
half-shut eyes, and their feet turned under them, before the fire, which
was the centre of Noah’s family circle on board the Ark!”
_Apropos_ of Cat-charming or Cat-taming, here are two anecdotes from Mr.
Beeton’s book:--
“I have,” says the writer, “a vivid recollection of once charming a Cat to
within an inch of getting myself thoroughly well thrashed. There lived in
our neighbourhood a kind-hearted old gentleman, who was good enough to
take a fancy to my ungrateful self, and would frequently invite me (he was
a bachelor) to dine with him. The dining part of the business I had not
the least objection to; but after dinner, when we had chatted till he fell
into a doze, it became, to a boy nine years old, rather tedious. It was on
one such occasion that I behaved so disgracefully. The old gentleman was
nodding, with his slippered feet crossed lazily before the fire, and a fat
tortoiseshell Cat, his property, lay along the rug, placidly asleep, too.
Had I been a good boy, I should have sat still, and turned the leaves of
Fox’s _Book of Martyrs_ till my friend awoke; but I was not a good boy: I
felt myself like a martyr, doomed to the dreadful torture of sitting
still. I felt in my pocket for a top-string I had there, and for a minute
or so amused myself by bobbing the button at the end of the string on to
the nose of the tortoiseshell Cat, till I had aroused that lazy animal
to a state of extreme irritability. This sport, after a while, grew tame,
so I shifted the string, and allowed it to dangle within an inch of my
host’s feet. Really, it was done with scarce a thought, but the result was
rather astonishing. The Cat, who all the time kept her eye on the
tormenting string, no sooner saw it at a distance convenient to spring at,
than she made a bound, and, missing the cord, fiercely embraced one of the
slippered members with ten of her talons. For the moment I was too
frightened to weigh the possible consequences of laughing, and laughed
outright, which, with the sudden bound the old gentleman gave, so alarmed
the tortoiseshell Cat, that she flew towards the door like a mad Cat. I
doubt, however, whether its utmost agility would have saved it from the
tongs, with which its outraged master pursued it, had I not ashamedly
explained the matter, and begged forgiveness.”
“I have certainly, in my time, made the acquaintance of some queerish
Cats. When quite a little boy, there was attached to our house, a quaint
black and white Cat whose sole recommendation was that he was a
magnificent mouser; nay, to such lengths would he carry his passion for
hunting, as regularly to haunt a ditch that existed in the neighbourhood
for the purpose of pursuing and capturing water-rats, which class of
vermin he despatched in a manner that at once secured the death of the
rat, and himself immunity from the rat’s teeth. Seizing the animal by the
back of the neck, the Cat, by a sudden wriggle, threw himself on his back,
and at once transferred the custody of the rat from his mouth to his
fore-paws, holding it neatly behind the shoulders, while with his hind
talons he cruelly assailed the unlucky animal’s loins and ribs till it
ceased to struggle. I have stated that the Cat in question was attached to
our house, and that certainly was the extent of his intimacy, for he was
attached to nobody residing there. Myself, he particularly disliked, and
although he never considered it beneath his dignity to steal any article
of food from me, would never accept my overtures of friendship. I have
reason to believe that his special dislike to me arose out of a pair of
boots possessed by me at that period. They were creaking boots, and
fastened with laces. Whether it was that their loud creaking as I moved
about the room in them, reminded him of the squeak of rats, or whether,
not being a particularly tidy boy, the before-mentioned laces were
sometimes allowed to trail rats’-tail-wise, aggravatingly heightened the
illusion, I can’t say; I only know that as sure as I happened to allow
my small feet to swing loosely while seated at breakfast or dinner, so
surely would the black and white Cat, if he were in the room, make a
sudden dash at the hated boots, giving my leg a severe wrench in his
endeavour to fling himself on his back for the purpose of tearing the life
out of them after his own peculiar mode.
“My enemy was, however, finally subdued, and in a rather curious way. Some
one brought me one of those difficult musical instruments known as a mouth
organ, and delighted with my new possession, I was torturing it as I sat
on a seat in the garden. Suddenly there appeared in a tree just above my
head, my foe, the black and white Cat, with his tail waving from side to
side, his eyes staring, and his mouth twitching in an odd sort of way. I
must confess that I was rather alarmed, and in my nervous condition, I
might be excused if I construed the expression of the Cat’s countenance to
intimate, “Here you are then with another hideous noise, a noise that is
even more suggestive of rat squeaking than your abominable boots; however,
I’ve caught you by yourself this time, so look out for your eyes.” I did
not, however, cease playing my organ; my enemy’s green eyes seemed to
fascinate me, and my tremulous breath continued to wail on the organ
pipes. Slowly the black and white Cat descended the tree, and presently
leapt at my feet with a bound that thrilled through me, and expelled a
scream-like note from my instrument. But to my astonishment, my enemy did
not attack me; on the contrary, he approached the offending boots humbly,
and caressed them with his head. Still I continued to play, and after
every inch of my Bluchers had received homage from the Cat’s hitherto
terrible muzzle, he sprang on the seat beside me, and purred and gently
mewed, and finally crept on to my shoulders and lovingly smelt at the
mouth-organ as I played it. From that day hostilities ceased between us.
He would sit on my shoulders for half an hour together, and sing, after
his fashion, while I played, and I had only to strike up to lure him from
any part of the premises where he might happen to be.
“There used to come to our house a young man who played the trombone, and
having heard the story, insisted that there was nothing in it,--that all
Cats like music, and that savage as was our Cat to strangers, he would be
bound to conquer him with a single blast of his favorite instrument. Next
time he came armed with the terrible-looking trombone, which our Cat no
sooner saw than, (as I had predicted, for I knew his nature better than
anyone else could) he took a violent dislike to it. A blast on the
trombone; the effect was as he prognosticated instantaneous, though not
perfectly satisfactory; the brazen note was immediately responded to by
one equally loud from our Cat, who appeared to regard it as a challenge to
combat, and thickened his tail and bared his teeth accordingly, at the
same time swearing and spitting dreadfully. I need not say that the
trombone-player was discomfited, while my fame as a Cat-charmer was
considerably augmented.”
Poor Pussy! her character is not often properly understood, as we read
elsewhere:--
“One or two common errors about Cats may be noticed. Many persons will
destroy them when anything is the matter with them, whereas, in many cases
they would recover with a little care. Some think they do not drink much,
which is a mistake. Water should always be placed within their reach. As
to their want of attachment, there is no doubt that is generally owing to
the neglect (if not worse treatment) they often experience. Every animal
will ordinarily return kindness for kindness; and, if persons will only
try, they will not find Cats an exception. But to knock an animal about,
or hardly ever to notice it, and to punish severely any fault it may
commit, are not ways to attach it to you. The writer has heard of more
than one instance in which, on its master’s death, a favourite Cat has
gone away and not been seen again. There is a great diversity of character
in Cats, as, indeed, in all animals. As to the colour, this is not of such
importance as the shape. She should be well rounded, compactly formed,
with small ears and fur of fine texture. It sometimes happens that
ordinary-looking Cats have some very good qualities. Cats are very much
afraid of each other: two of them will often look at one another over a
plate for a long time, neither venturing to move or to take anything. At
other times they are great bullies. One will get close up to another, and
scream into his ear until the other gradually shrinks back and runs off
when he has got clear.”
“The Chinese, it seems,” says another writer, “learn the hour of the day
by looking into the eyes of their Cats; but I imagine that if Cats could
speak Chinese, they would tell us, not only what o’clock it is, but also
what is the day of the week. When a boy, I was a great pigeon-keeper:
pigeon-keeping in a town leads to excursions on the roofs. Excursions over
roofs lead sometimes to neck-breaking, sometimes to strange discoveries.
Our neighbour at the back was a large coach-builder, and the nearest
buildings were his forges. On week days, I beheld, during my airy rambles,
nothing but the blacksmiths hammering away at bolt, and spring, and tire,
and nail; but on Sundays, except in case of inclement weather, the warm
tiles that covered the forges were tenanted by numerous parties of Cats.
There they sat, all day long, admiring one another, holding silent
deliberations, determining in their minds which partner they should select
for the evening’s concert and ball. While daylight lasted, it was a
Quaker’s meeting, silent and sober; but after dark--the darker the
better--leaps and friskings were audible, with vocal effects of
long-swelling notes, such as called forth Peter Pindar’s Ode to the Jewish
Cats of Israel Mendez, whose opening line is--
“Singers of Israel! O, ye singers sweet!”
From Monday morning till Saturday night not a Cat was to be seen: they
knew when Sunday came round, as well as I did, from the low temperature of
the tiles.
It is very common for Cats to select one member of a family on whom they
lavish all their fondness, while towards the others they comport
themselves with the utmost indifference. “I remember,” says a lady, “there
was a Cat with her Kittens found in a hole in the wall, in the garden of
the house where my father-in-law lived. One of the kittens, being a very
beautiful black one, was brought into the house, and almost immediately
attached himself in a very extraordinary way to me. I was in mourning at
the time, and, perhaps, the similarity of the hue of my dress to his sable
fur, might first have attracted him; but, however this may have been,
whenever he came into the room, he constantly jumped into my lap, and
evinced his fondness by purring and rubbing his head against me in a very
coaxing manner. He continued thus to distinguish me during the rest of his
life; and though I went with my father-in-law’s family every winter to
Dublin, and every summer to the country, the change of abode (to which
Cats are supposed to be averse) never troubled my favourite, provided he
could be with me. Frequently, when we have been walking home, after
spending the evening out, he has come running down half the street to meet
us, testifying the greatest delight. On one occasion, when I had an
illness, which confined me for upwards of two months to my room, poor Lee
Boo deserted the parlour altogether, though he had been always patted and
caressed by every one there. He would sit for hours mewing disconsolately
at my door; and when he could, he would steal in, jump upon the bed,
testifying his joy at seeing me by loud purring and coaxing, and sometimes
licking my hand. The very day I went down, he resumed his regular
attendance in the parlour.”
Another lady describes how her Cat awoke her in the middle of the night.
It sat down by the bed-side and mewed, while it rubbed itself backwards
and forwards against the bedposts. The lady had no idea what was the
matter, but felt sure there was something, and lighting the candle, found
a dead mouse quite close to her. Satisfied that the lady had examined its
capture, Puss took it off, and after playing with it for an hour, ate it
up, leaving, as usual, the tail and paws. In the country or in farmhouses,
the Cat will never fail to bring home birds and mice, and, in Southern
climes, lizards and even snakes. She does this, however, very much in
proportion to the amount of kindness bestowed upon her at home, and if
this be altogether lacking, the prey is only shown to other Cats living in
the same house, or to her own young, if she happens to have any; often
indeed, she brings her trophy immediately and only to her young.
There was a gentleman who had a tortoiseshell Cat, which, though he never
fed it, or paid much attention to it, formed an attachment for him equal
to that of a dog. It knew his ring at the bells, and at whatever time he
came home, it was rubbing against his legs long before the servant came,
saw him into the sitting-room, and then walked off. It was a very active
animal, and usually went bird-catching during the night; but when its
master rose, which was generally early in the morning, the Cat was always
ready to receive him at the door of his room, and accompany him in his
morning walk in the garden, alternately skipping to the tops of the trees,
and descending and gambolling about him. When he was in his study, it used
to pay him several visits in the day, always short ones; but it never
retired till he had recognized it. If rubbing against his legs had not the
desired effect, it would mount the writing-table, nudge his shoulder, and
if that would not do, pat him on the cheek; but the moment he had shaken
it by the paw, and given it a pat or two on the head, it walked off. When
he was indisposed, it paid him several visits every day, but continued in
the room; and although it was fond of society generally, and also of its
food; it never obtruded its company during meals. Its attachment was thus
quite disinterested, and no pains whatever had been taken to train it.”
Here is a curious anecdote, culled from another source:--
“I have at the present time about my house a Cat that came into my
possession under rather singular circumstances. Before we knew her, we had
a Cat that gave perfect satisfaction, was a good mouser, and an
affectionate mother. In the rear of our house, there is a shed, commonly
used as a wood store, and frequented, at least, once a day. It is by no
means a secluded place, and the door, through a weakness in its hinges, is
constantly ajar.
“One morning there was discovered in the shed, not only a strange Cat, but
a strange Kitten, with its eyes open, plump, and about a fortnight old.
The strange Cat made no attempt to stir when the maid entered, but lay
suckling her baby, and looking up with an expression that said as plainly
as Cat language could,--
“‘A persecuted Cat and her Kitten at your service; don’t drive us out,
that’s a good creature.’
“More singular still, before the person appealed to could consider the
case, our own Cat peeped into the shed, and after deliberately walking up
to the refugees, and giving them a kindly touch with her nose, walked
back to the servant and commenced to rub against her, purring the while,
as though to manifest her goodwill towards the strangers, and to recommend
a favourable consideration of their case, so they were taken in.
“As soon, however, as the novelty of the affair wore off, it began to dawn
on us that we did not require a ‘house-full’ of Cats, though for that
matter the four lived happily together. Which should we get rid of? The
strange Cat’s kitten was too big to drown and too little to send adrift;
our own ‘Topsy’ and her daughter must, of course, be retained, so there
was nothing left but to send away the strange she-Cat. She was rather a
good-looking Cat, and that, coupled with her known cleverness, gave us
good ground for supposing that she would soon find another home. It
appeared, however, that we did not give her credit for being nearly so
clever as she was.
“It was arranged that she should be conveyed in a basket to a certain
square, about a quarter-of-a-mile distant, and there left to seek her
fortune. To the best of everybody’s belief, this arrangement was carried
out to the letter, therefore the amazement of the entire household may be
easily imagined when, on reference being made to the Cat-cupboard, to see
how Topsy and her two young charges were getting on, to find no Topsy at
all,--only the strange Cat and the two Kittens. How the cheat had been
accomplished, it was impossible to say. That Topsy was not the Cat placed
in the basket was vouched for by two witnesses--one of them had held the
basket-lid open while the other pushed the animal in.
“Perhaps, in my own mind, I have little doubt how the business was so
mulled, but I know that in certain quarters there exists a belief, either
that by some sort of witchery the strange Cat put on so Topsical an
appearance as to deceive her would be smugglers, or that, after she was
basketed, she managed to sneak out, and either by persuasion or force
induced the unlucky Topsy to take her place.
“However it came about, the result is that the strange Cat alone reigns at
our house, to the jealous exclusion of all her species. No one, I believe,
has any particular affection for her, but that circumstance is not
observed to prey on her mind or to interfere with her appetite. She
devours her rations with the air of a Cat that is conscious that she has
earned them, and as though she is aware, and rather gloried than
otherwise, in the knowledge that she is regarded as a cunning and
manœuvring beast, that first, by hypocritical representations, induced an
honest Cat to obtain for her a situation, and afterwards ungratefully
contrived to push out her benefactress and progeny, and install herself in
their place.”
From the _Autobiography of Miss Cornelia Knight_, Lady Companion to the
Princess Charlotte of Wales, I take the following scrap:--
“An old woman, who died a few years ago, in Ireland, had a nephew, to whom
she left by will all she possessed. She happened to have a favourite Cat,
which never left her, and even remained by the corpse after her death.
After the will was read, in the adjoining room, on opening the door the
Cat sprang at the lawyer, seized him by the throat, and was with
difficulty prevented from strangling him. This man died about eighteen
months after this scene, and, on his death-bed, confessed that he had
murdered his aunt to get possession of her money.”
The oft-quoted lines by Gray should not be omitted from _The Book of
Cats_:--
“ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT,
“_Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes_.
“’Twas on a lofty vase’s side,
Where China’s gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
“Her conscious tail her joy declared--
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes--
She saw and purred applause.
“Still had she gazed, but ’midst the tide,
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The genii of the stream;
Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue,
Though richest purple to the view,
Betrayed a golden gleam.
“The hapless nymph, with wonder saw,
A whisker first, and then a claw;
With many an ardent wish
She stretched in vain to reach the prize;--
What female heart can gold despise?
What Cat’s averse to fish?
“Presumptuous maid, with looks intent,
Again she stretched, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between;
(Malignant Fate sat by and smiled)--
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.
“Eight times emerging from the flood,
She mewed to every watery god
Some speedy aid to send;
No dolphin came, no nereid stirred,
No cruel Tom, no Susan heard,--
Favourite has no friend.
“From hence, ye beauties, undeceived,
Know one false step is ne’er retrieved,
And be with caution bold--
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize--
Not all that glitters gold.”
These verses are well known, but those which follow are less often met
with: they are attributed to George Tuberville, and written somewhere
about the beginning of the sixteenth century:--
“THE LOUER,
“Whose mistresse feared a mouse, declareth that he
would become a Cat if he might haue his desire.
“If I might alter kind,
What, think you, I would bee?
Not Fish, nor Foule, nor Fle, nor Frog.
Nor Squirril on the Tree;
The Fish the Hooke, the Foule
The lymed Twig doth catch,
The Fle the Finger, and the Frog
The Bustard doth dispatch.
“The Squirrill thinking nought,
That feately cracks the Nut;
The greedie Goshawke wanting pray,
In dread of Death doth put;
But scorning all these kindes,
I would become a Cat,
To combat with the creeping Mouse,
And scratch the screeking Rat.
“I would be present, aye,
And at my Ladie’s call,
To gard her from the fearfull mouse,
In Parlour and in Hall;
In Kitchen, for his Lyfe,
He should not shew his hed;
The Peare in Poke should lie untoucht
When shee were gone to Bed.
“The Mouse should stand in Feare,
So should the squeaking Rat;
All this would I doe if I were
Converted to a Cat.”
But I think George must have been very far gone when he wrote that piece
of poetry, for I should think that, even with the advantage of nine lives
to lose, a Cat’s existence is rather too hazardous; and, by the way, that
reminds me of some instances where Pussy’s natural prey have turned upon
her in a most unpleasant manner; thus:--
A Cat was observed on the top of a paled fence, endeavouring to get at a
blackbird’s nest, which was near it. The hen left the nest at her
approach, and flew to meet her in a state of alarm, and uttered a wild
cry. The cock bird, on perceiving the danger, showed signs of distress by
sometimes settling on the fence just before the Cat, who was unable to
make a spring in consequence of the narrowness of her footing. After a
little while, the cock bird flew at the Cat, settled on her back, and
pecked her head with so much violence that she fell to the ground,
followed by the blackbird, who succeeded in driving her away. A second
time the same scene occurred; the blackbird was again victorious; and the
Cat became so intimidated at the attacks made upon her, that she gave over
the attempts to get at the young ones. After each battle, the blackbird
celebrated his victory with a song, and for several days afterwards he
would hunt the Cat about the garden whenever she left the house. There is
also an instance of a pair of blackbirds following a boy into a house, and
pecking at his head, while he was conveying one of their young into it.
Here is another case:--
A lady who kept a tame Jack Hare, in giving an account of it, says, that
if a Cat approached him he would sit upright, “square himself,” as it
were, and rub his paws together like a pugilist preparing for an
encounter. With one stroke of his soft but strong paws, the hare would
tear a strip of the hair, and often even the skin, from the Cat’s back; at
other times he would make his sharp-cutting teeth meet in her neck; and so
formidable at last was the “timid hare” to the little “domestic tiger,”
that no sooner did Pussy spy her conqueror than she would fly in terror
from his presence.
In these two anecdotes, as in many others, Pussy is exhibited in a very
unamiable light; but I hope that a few of the good traits I have been able
to relate in the foregoing pages may weigh the balance in her favour with
those inclined to judge her fairly. As a cruel destroyer of smaller and
weaker animals she is most often painted, and so identified is she with
that character, that it is difficult to make those personally unacquainted
with her many good qualities to believe that any exist. In this way an
actor, famous for his villains, becomes so very villainous, that even in a
virtuous character we suspect him of hypocrisy, and expect that presently
he will throw off the mask and assume his proper colours. By the way of
allusion to a Cat on the stage, I think I can quote one of the most
effective pieces that have been spoken.
Do any of my readers remember Robson acting in the burlesque of Medea?
Upon the night of its production Ristori went to the Olympic to see his
travestie of her great character. One of the finest passages in the
tragedy is that in which Medea describes how like a tigress she will
spring upon her intended victim. In Robert Brough’s version the tigress is
turned into a Cat, and Robson, with one of his intensely passionate
bursts, used words, as well as I can recollect (I have not got a book by
me), something after this fashion:--
“How will I, eh? The way the Cat jumps
Upon a simple unsuspecting mouse
Loose in the pantry,--no one in the house,--
Nibbling away, with confidence unshaken,
Eating his cheese up first to save his bacon.
She’s in no hurry. With dilating eyes,
And undulating tail, she crouching lies,
Till his enjoyments crises he is at,
Then pounce! she makes a spring, and has him--pat.
To a short game of pitch and toss she treats him--
Tears him to pieces slowly--SCRUNCH--then eats him.”
While upon the subject of the theatre, I might add that it is a rule
behind the scenes--a rule, however, very seldom enforced, if I am properly
informed--that a Cat which crosses the scene when the curtain is raised
shall be put to death. Such an unappropriate appearance has, before now,
spoilt the finest tragedy. I think there is a story by Colonel Addison
bearing upon an incident of this kind.
The Old Catch:--
“When a good housewife sees a rat
In a trap in the morning taken,
With pleasure her heart goes pitte-pitte-pat,
For revenge of loss of bacon;
Then she throws it to the Dog or Cat,
To be worried, eat, or shaken,”
tolerably well indicates the popular notion of a Cat’s duties, and the
idea of keeping one for a pet, as birds are kept, would be thought by many
a monstrous absurdity. By the way, it is said that the best way to get rid
of English rats is not to get a Dog or Cat to kill them, but to purchase
two or three Australian rats, and let them loose among them. They are to
be purchased in London, and realise a high price from those who have faith
in their frightening propensities, which I confess I have not.
With respect to Pussy’s mouse-catching qualities, etc., a writer in a
periodical says:--
“Most persons have heard of the beautiful contrivance by which the claws
of these animals are preserved constantly sharp; being drawn, when not
used, by certain tendons, within a sheath or integument, while only the
soft parts of the foot come in contact with the ground, thus enabling the
animal to tread noiselessly. The roughness of the Cat’s tongue is due to a
multitude of horny papillæ (much stronger, of course, in lions and
tigers), by which it is materially helped to keep itself clean,--a most
important point, for cleanliness is a necessity to Cats, inasmuch, as if
they had the slightest smell about them, their prey would detect their
presence, and never come within their reach. As it is, the Cat is so free
from smell that she may sit close to the holes of mice without their being
aware of it, although they possess a fine sense of smell. A Cat never eats
a morsel of anything, whatever it is, without afterwards sitting down to
clean and wipe its face and lips. The caution for which it is so
remarkable is likewise evinced in its choice of secluded spots for
bringing up its offspring; very often some hole or corner little thought
of by the inmates of the house. If the young be removed and placed
elsewhere, the mother will frequently take them again and again to the
place chosen by herself. Another characteristic of the domestic Cat is an
instinctive knowledge of the presence of danger. Even a chimney on fire,
or the presence of strange workmen in the house, will make it very
restless and uneasy, and on such occasions it will sometimes not go to
rest even during the night. Every animal is endowed with peculiar means of
self-defence; and as the Cat cannot trust, like the hare, to speed, on the
approach of danger, it watches its enemy, occasionally taking side
glances, or looking round for a place of refuge. On these occasions,
notwithstanding its natural nervousness, it maintains great coolness. If a
hole or shelter be near, it waits for an opportunity, or until its enemy
looks away, and then rushes under cover, or runs up a tree or a wall, and
immediately sits down and watches its enemy. If driven to an actual
encounter, the smallness of its mouth and jaws preclude the use of its
teeth to any great extent, but it can inflict considerable injury and
acute pain with its sharp claws, which, perhaps, no dog, except a bulldog,
can bear; indeed, few dogs like to attack a Cat at bay, though they all
run after them. It is curious, too, that once in a place of safety, it
never seeks to leave it, or loses sight of its enemy. A Cat on the safe
side of an area railing will sit down and coolly watch a dog barking
furiously at it.
“Its care and solicitude for its offspring are excessive and touching. If
attacked while rearing them, it will not run away, but stand and defend
them against any odds; like the hare in similar circumstances, the Cat
evinces immense power and courage, no matter how formidable the enemy may
be. Of course the females of all animals possess more or less of this
quality.”
Cats have a much better time of it in France than here. A year or two
since, the budget of the Imperial Printing Office in France, amongst other
items, contained one for Cats, which caused some merriment in the
Legislative Chamber during its discussion. According to the _Pays_, these
Cats are kept for the purpose of destroying the numerous rats and mice
which infest the premises, and cause considerable damage to the large
stock of paper which is always kept there. This feline staff is fed twice
a day, and a man is employed to look after them, so that for Cats’-meat
and the keeper’s salary no little expense is annually incurred,
sufficient, in fact, to form a special item in the national expenditure.
Of these animals a somewhat interesting anecdote is related. It appears
that near to the Imperial Printing Office is situated the office of the
Director of the Archives, and the gardens of the two establishments are
adjacent. In that belonging to the latter gentleman, were kept a number of
choice aquatic birds, for whose convenience a small artificial river had
been constructed. Their owner suddenly discovered, one day, that his
favourites were diminishing in a mysterious manner, and set a watch to
ascertain the reason. Soon it was discovered who were the marauders--the
Cats! The enraged director, acting in the spirit of the law, thought he
had a perfect right to shoot and otherwise destroy these feline burglars,
whenever he found them on his grounds, and accordingly did so. Traps were
set, and soon half-a-dozen Cats paid the penalty of their crimes. The
keeper of the Cats, also, by this time, found that the muster at
meal-times was much scantier than usual, and reported to his superior, the
director of the printing office. At first the workmen were suspected of
killing them; but the appearance, one day, of a Cat with a broken snare
round its neck, put the keeper on a fresh scent, and ultimately led to
the discovery of the truth. The director thereupon complained to his
brother official, who only replied by pointing to the thinly-tenanted
pond, and saying that he would not have his birds destroyed if he could
help it. The result was that a fierce hostility reigned between the two
establishments, until an arrangement was made by their respective heads.
By this treaty it was stipulated that the Director of the Imperial
Printing Office should, on his part, cause every outlet by which the Cats
gained access to the gardens of the Director of the Archives to be
carefully closed, and every means taken to prevent such a contingency;
while, on the other hand, Monsieur, the Director of the Archives, agreed
never to molest any Cat belonging to the Imperial Printing Office, who
should, by some unforeseen accident, obtain admittance into his garden.
And thus, by this famous treaty, the horrors of civil war were averted!
Perhaps as curious an instance as any on record, where Puss’s powers as a
watchman have been called into requisition, may be found in a fact just
communicated to me. There is, it appears, a family now residing near
Richmond, who have a black Cat nicknamed Snow Ball, which, during sowing
time, every morning, punctually and dutifully presents himself to his
owners, for the purpose of being fastened up by a cord, near the spot
where the peas or other seed may have been newly sown; and whilst thus
keeping guard, woe betide any bird that might attempt to commit a
depredation within Puss’s reach.