Elizabeth, NJ, March 22.  Occupying a house in Ashwood Avenue, East Summit, a company of dogs and cats which were the pets of the late Mrs Mary Romaine Wright, will be allowed to enjoy undisturbed their present abode until they voluntarily seek another home.  Such a request is contained in the will of Mrs Wright, made known for the first time today.  Mrs Wright's daughter, Mrs Frederick C Kelley, is named to see that the strange request is carried out In accordance with the dead woman's desires, her late home is kept heated and the animals fed regularly.  Mrs Kelley said today she hoped the animals would become sufficiently attached to her to make their abode at her house, which is only a short distance from the Wright homestead.  Mrs Wright was well known in this vicinity as a friend of dumb animals.  With her husband, the late Seaman L Wright, she lived for more than forty years in the old homestead.

100 CATS GUARD NEW YORK POLICE - Rats and mice Routed by valiant Representatives of the Feline Tribe - Men Now Sleep in Peace - Station House Pets Credited with Wisdom Far Beyond Average of their Species.
The New York Times, May 7, 1915

New York's police force is the owner of more than 100 cats, distributed among the various station houses where they have their own police duty to perform. This consists of ridding the houses of mice and rats. Most of the cats were contributed by generous policemen. Others just naturally strayed into the stations. Were it not for the presence of these cats some of the station houses which are in the neighborhood of stables and rookeries would be overrun by rats. Policemen who have faced all kinds of danger unflinchingly do not hesitate to say that it makes them feel decidedly uncomfortable to be awakened from their slumbers by a rat who is using the floor of the dormitory for a playground, and it is mightily reassuring to be able to drop off to sleep with the knowledge that the station house cat is faithfully patroling.

The station house cat, policemen assert, possesses characteristics distinctly different from those of the common house cat or any other species of the tiger family. For example he is not given to nocturnal prowlings. he spends most of his time in the station house, and when he does go out into the night he does not stray far. Most of the cats, Police Lieutenants, who have studied them assert, have a strong antipathy for an intoxicated person, and when such a prisoner is brought into the station the cats walk away in disgust. Instead of being called "Tommy" or "Kitty" they are usually addressed gruffly by the police as "You" and "Hey You."

In the Morrisania Police Station there is a beautiful white cat named Peter. He is the pride of the station house, and was born there five years ago when he was adopted by Lieutenant Peter Brady, after whom he was named. Peter has strong likes and dislikes. His favorite resting place is the top of the station house desk. When a Lieutenant whom Peter dislikes is on duty nothing will induce him to remain near the desk, but he will seek a far corner of the station. Peter was a great favorite with the late Lieutenant Frank O’Rourke. When O'Rourke wanted his pet he would blow a police whistle, which would bring Peter to the station. There was a certain Lieutenant that disliked Peter as much as the cat disliked him. This Lieutenant went in the back room of the station one night for a few minutes, leaving Peter in charge of the place. When the Lieutenant returned he found that the ink had been spilled all over the pages of the blotter. The Captain wanted to know how it had happened, and the Lieutenant blamed it on Peter.

There is a large gray cat in the Alexander Avenue station. Many names have been suggested for this cat, but as the men have not been able to agree on one they are now conducting a voting contest and the cat will be presented with the winning name. In the large West 152d Street station there is a large cat, which spent his early life in a butcher shop. He makes daily visits to the butcher shops in the neighborhood and when he is absent and the police want to set him on the trail of a mouse who is disturbing their equanimity, they know that he can be found at a neighbouring butcher's.

In a Brooklyn precinct there is a battle-scarred cat named Gray Whiskers. Some time ago an old building opposite the station house was being torn down and under cover of night a regiment of rats swarmed from the ruins into the station house. The men in the dormitory were awakened by the sound of many feet and saw by the light from a full moon that the visitors were rats and that they were being hotly pursued about the place by Gray Whiskers, which was giving them no quarter. No count was kept of the number of rats which Gray Whiskers dispatched, but those he failed to slay he routed completely from the station house, so terrifying them that, according to the police, no rat since has had the temerity to show his nose in the place.

CAT LEFT FOR THE HOLIDAYS. HUDDERSFIELD DENTIST CHARGED WITH CRUELTY. THOUGHT IT WAS OUT.
Leeds Mercury, 28th August 1915

At Huddersfield yesterday, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals summoned Mr. Arthur Hughes, dentist. Woodland-mount, for cruelty to a cat, which had been left in the gentleman's residence without food. Mr. J. D. Eaton Smith said that on July 31st Mr. Hughes and his family locked tip the house and went for a fortnight's holiday. He had made arrangements with a neighbour to look after his dog, but made no provision for the cat. A neighbour heard the cat mewing in the house on August 4th, and placed meat under the bottom of the door. Mr. Hughes was communicated with, and the cat was liberated on August 8th. It was not suggested that Mr. Hughes had wilfully caused cruelty, but he had not made reasonable arrangements for the feeding of the cat. Mr. Hughes said he was under the impression that his wife had made arrangements for the cat to be looked after. The house was searched for the cat before the doors were locked, and the maid and three children went out to look for it. He supposed the animal was out and would go and sleep with the dog, which it usually did. The Bench imposed a fine of 7s. 6d.

CATS FOLLOWED HIM. SAILOR’S LITTLE JOKE NOT ALTOGETHER A SUCCESS.
Army of Felines Swarmed on Ship Responding to Call Which They Recognised as a Summons to Usual Meal.
The Maurice Times, 8th January 1916

According to Walter Jones, chief steward of the White Star line Adriatic, Belgian butchers have opened shops for the sale of horse flesh to their compatriots in London, Man-chester and Glasgow, but so far none has been started in Liverpool. “There are two shops in Liverpool where they sell roast and boiled horseflesh,” said Mr. Jones, “but they have been established for more than 100 years to supply the cats and dogs of the city with their daily noontime meal. The meat is carried round the streets by the ‘cat's meat man,’ as he is termed, who sings out in a high pitched voice: ‘Meat—meat—meat—cat's meat,’ and causes, the felines of all ages and sizes to sally forth from their home directly they hear the familiar cry. With their tails in the air, the cats surround the barrow, meowing plaintively until their portion has been served them, cut into small pieces, stuck on a skewer. The dogs eat their meat boiled, but are not such good customers as the cats, although their food costs a penny and the other is only a halfpenny a portion.

The chief steward said that when he made a voyage recently on the Arabic he had an interesting experience with the Liverpool cats which illustrated their fondness for the roast horsemeat. “About three hours before the ship was due to sail,” he said, “I sent Tom Twitchets, a steward, to get three pennyworth of cat’s meat as a treat for the ship's pet cat Tiddles, a fine ratter, and very popular with the crew, It appears that after buying the cat’s meat Twitchets drank two or three glasses of beer and smoked a penny cigar, which made him feel the world was his own. Nearing the landing state he sighted two cats sitting on a doorstep, and in the lightness of his heart he called out: ‘Meat, meat, meat, cat’s meat,” imitating the well-known cry, and waved the parcel he held in his hand. The two cats immediately followed him with their tails in the air mewing loudly, which brought cats from houses on each side of the street until Twitchets said he became so scared that he started to run to the ship. Dashing up the steerage gangway he was followed by the army of felines numbering dozens, according to Bill Gargle, the assistant potato peeler, who counted them. There were, black cats, white cats, red and white cats, magenta and gray cats, puce-colored cats, tailless cats, black and white, red, rusty brown and every kind of cat you could possibly think of. Twitchets rushed to my cabin, followed by the feline army, and I drove him out back to the pier and let them fight for it, as it was the only way to get rid of them.

Mr. Jones went on to say that numbers of the cats got lost, and sailed in the Arabic with him to New York. He saw a different colored feline outside his cabin door every morning, so did the purser, doctor, and the engineers, who complained bitterly about the cats going down into the engine room to sleep on the mats. Twitchets, the steward, was blamed by the crew for bringing them on board the ship, and Bill Gargle gained the reputation of being the biggest liar in Liverpool because he swore that he counted 444 cats when they swarmed up the gangway. Several of them were drowned when the Arabic sank on August 19, ; Mr. Jones said.

PIG EXHIBITED IN GOLD DRAWING ROOM; Tiny Suckling Among Chickens and Kittens at Food Bazaar at Mrs. Payne Whitney's. COOK BOOK QUICKLY SOLD Some of the Old-Fashioned Recipes In Mrs. Whitney's Work Complied to Aid a Hospital Charity.
The New York Times, January 28, 1916

The food bazaar held yesterday afternoon at Mrs. Payne Whitney's house, 972 Fifth Avenue, for the benefit of the Social Service Department of the New York Hospital, was largely attended. When the doors were opened at 2 o'clock there was a group of early-comers waiting to buy a copy of Mrs. Whitney's cook book, which she compiled for the occasion.

[...]In one corner of the gold and red drawing rooms, with its rare Italian statuary and tapestries, there were kennels containing pedigreed puppies and kittens and crates of Japanese chickens and leghorns, and in a crate all by himself was a tiny suckling pig, that grunted contentedly during the whole afternoon. [...]

CAT OR RABBIT? SUMMER EVENING SHOOTING INCIDENT. WIDOW’S CLAIM FOR DAMAGES Nantwich Guardian, 12th September 1916
At the Nantwich County Court, Saturday, befoce his Honour Judge Reginald Brown. K.C., Hannah King, widow, Oak-villas, Wrenbury, brought an action against Samuel Potts, butcher and cattle dealer, Wrenbury, to recover damages tor the loss of her cat, which she alleged deiendant had shot. Mr. H. W. G. Garnett was for the plaintiff, and Mr. J. P. Whittingham for the defendant.

A CAT FROM THE UNITED STATES. Mr. Garnett said tb« action was of a somewhat unusual nature. It was a claim for damages through the defendant having shot and killed a cat, the property of Mrs. King. It appeared about five years ago her son, who lived in the United States, when over on a visit, made her a present of a black kitten, which afterwards developed into a very fine cat. It was undoubtedly thought a great deal of by Mrs. King. Opposite to where the plaintiff lived, and divided by the road, were fields in the occupation of Mr. Potts, butcher and cattle dealer, where he put cattle. On Friday, June 16th, about half-past nine o’clock in the evening, Mrs, King was standing in the garden in front of her house, and the cat was sitting on a heap of scrapings on the side the road.

Just at that time two young farm labourers were passing, and made a noise at the cat*,which ran across the road into defendant’s fields. Plaintiff saw defendant about 40 yards in the field. He was carrying a gun. She saw the cat get about three or four yards into the field, and Mr. Potts raised his gun and fired, apparently at the cat. The cat turned round a time or two, as cats would when they were shot, and Mr. Potts fired the second barrel. The cat fell amongst some nettles. Mr. Potts stood still, and looking round to see anyone had seen the act. He afterwards went and stood near the cat, and then picked it up. He walked across the field, and put it behind the hedge. Mrs. King said nothing to Mr. Potts, but next morning she went into Mr. Potts’ field to the spot where he put the cat, and there saw the cat lying dead. Later the morning, Mr. Potts came into the field with a bag, and watching him from behind hedge, she saw him go to where the cat was lying. He apparently lifted something up, and put it in a bag. She waited until Mr. Potts came into the road with the bag, and as soon as saw her he said, “Why did you tell Douglas Prince I shot your cat?’” She replied, “Because you did, and you have it in the hag now.” She asked him to show it, and tried to snatch the bag, but he raised bis stick to her. Mr. Potts said, “I did not shoot your cat. but I shot a rabbit.” She replied, “You don’t leave rabbits lying about all night and fetch them in the morning.”

“Some of us,” added Mr. Garnett, "have shot a good many rabbits in our time, but never heard of that method being adopted.”
Proceeding, Mr. Garnett did not think his Honour would have any doubt that Mr. Potts shot the cat. He anticipated that there would be a dispute as to the value of the cat, but they did not anticipate point blank denial from Mr. Potts that he shot the cat.

When wrote to Mr. Potts demanding damages, Mr. Whittingham replied; “My client absolutely denies that he shot and killed your client's cat, and has instructed me to defend any proceeding your client may take in the matter.” Then he added the characteristic sentence: “No doubt cats seem be valuable in Wrenbury.” He did not contend that cats were more valuable in Wrenbury than anywhere else. Cats by some ladies were regarded as animals of great value. They all knew that ladies in high circles held cat shows on something the same lines as dog shows, and the exhibits were solemnly judged and prizes awarded, and sometimes they changed hands at considerable prices.

This was a very excellent cat for keeping down vermin. Mr. Potts had no right to shoot and kill it, and it would be for his Honour to say what damages Mrs. King had sustained by the loss of it.

GOOD RATTER AND MOUSER. Plaintiff bore out her solicitor's statement. When defendant was returning from the field with the bag, he told her that he would shoot anyone's cat if he saw it near his rabbit holes. Defendant had never complained to her about her cat trespassing. Two or three days later she again saw defendant and asked her if she was in a better temper. He suggested that she should let the matter pass over. She told him that it was out of her hands. Te cat was a good mouser and ratter, and before she had the cat she was greatly troubled with mice.

In cross-examination plaintiff said she would not have taken £2 for the cat.
Mr. Whittingham.—You would not have sold for untold gold?
Witness.—No.
It really was only a common cat—l did not want to part with it.
It was a poacher on four legs?
No, it was not.
In reply to other questions witness said that there were only three cats to 20 houses, and they were not a nuisance to the neighbourhood.
Mr. Whittingham.—You were determined have a smack at Mr. Potts in any event, win or lose.
Mr. Garnett.— It Is obvious that why we are here.
Evidence in support of , the plaintiff's case was given by Arthur Blakemore, farm labourer, in the employment of Mr. T. W. Pickford, Baddiley, and a boy named Joseph Gregory.

DEFENDANT'S VERSION. Defendant said that he went into his field to shoot a rabbit. It was growing dusk the time. He stood near a tree for 20 minutes and eventually killed a rabbit after shooting at it with both barrels. Those were the only shots he fired. He picked the rabbit up and look it home. He neither shot nor saw a cat. At the point where he shot the rabbit it was impossible for the plaintiff to see him. On the following morning after taking the cows into the field he took down some barbed wire, using a bag to protect his hands. He was returning home with the bog when Mrs. King met him and demanded to know what was inside the bag. He declined to satisfy her curiosity, although it was obvious that the bag was empty. On another occasion he met and said to her, “You are looking very fou’, Mrs. King. What's the matter with you?"” She said, “When are you going to settle that job of shooting my cat?" He repeated that he never saw her cat, let alone shoot it.

In reply to the judge, witness said he never told her that he would shoot any cat that came after his rabbits. He did not know that she had a cat.

In cross-examination defendant swore positively that did not shoot the cat. He denied having a conversation with Fred Prince, and that Prince told that he (defendant) had shot Mrs. King's cat, and she knew where it was. He further denied saying, “By God. I had better fetch it."

Mr. Whittingham reviewed the facts of the case, and said that plaintiff's story as to seeing the actual shooting take place was a very improbable one. There was no evidence to show that his client had deliberately told an untruth.

JUDGMENT THE PLAINTIFF. His Honour said It was a nasty issue to decide, because one or other of the parties was saying that which he or she must know to be untrue. However, that was nothing extraordinary in the County Court nor particularly so in cases of farmers shooting dogs for worrying their sheep. He did not think the matter was disputed that Mrs. King’s cat met its death on that night at this place. The question was whether the defendant brought about the end of that cat. Plaintiff’s story was a remarkably plain one, and one that could be believed. It was a very straightforward case, apparently as plain as a pikestaff, until the cross-examination, which was supported by the defendant in the box, and then the whole of the facts were in the fire, and someone or other must be saying what was untrue. The plaintiff was not shaken in cross-examination. He came to the conclusion that defendant had shot the cat. He had no right to do it and must pay for it. It seemed very absurd than any claim for a common domestic black cat should claim £2. The plaintiff had not said that the cat was a bosom companion, and that it was a good Persian or any valuable breed. It was more or less an ugly house cat, a good ratter or mouser, and one of those that could be got anywhere for 2s. 6d.or 5s. he could not give her more than 5s. for her cat. Judgment entered accordingly.

WATER AND OIL WILL NOT MIX
The Wichita Beacon, October 27th, 1916. By Gertrude E. Martin.

Neither will cats and birds - at least not in a manner that is satisfactory to the birds and bird lovers. Cats are generally recognized as the worst enemies of our native birds. It has been estimated by Professor Forbush, that a cat is responsible for the death of about fifty song birds a year, and one cat, to his knowledge, destroyed six birds’ nests in a single day. If children are led to notice these facts, they will be willing to choose other pets. All wild, stray, or worthless cats should be destroyed. People who have cats they value, ought, out of kindness to the birds, to see that they are provided with other food than young robins, orioles, thrushes, and cardinals. The Bluebird Magazine gives this rule: “If you wish to attract' the birds, first start a kitty-cat cemetery in your back yard.”

TRUE STORIES ABOUT CATS - CATS THAT UNDERSTAND
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 3rd, 1919

“I declare,” said Grandpa, who had just come to make us a visit, “I shall have to speak French at the table, for that cat is a perfect witch and understands English all too well. I have no comfort eating my dinner at all, for as soon as you mention the word ‘cheese’ she is up on my lap, and then she wants all my cheese to cat."

You know that I said in one of the previous little talks about cats that each one had some peculiar kind of “stunt.” Now Maltie’s was to understand certain words we had taught her, one of them being “cheese.” She just adored cheese. I never saw a cat so devoted to it as she was.
We had taught her also the word “milk,” but she didn’t care as much about milk as she did cheese, and so didn’t “carry on” when we said “milk” as she did when we said “cheese.” We would say at the dinner table, “Sister, will you have a piece of cheese?" or “Mother, please pass the cheese,” when up would came a gray, furry ball into your lap; it was difficult to keep Maltie from getting on to the table after the cheese. Sometimes she did jump up on the table if we tried to “fool” her about it, hiding the cheese plate suddenly under a napkin. Then Maltie would stand on the corner of the table, looking from one face to the other earnestly, and if we repeated the question, “Will you have some cheese?” she would go back and forth from the one who said it to the one who answered her “Yes, I will take a piece of cheese,” looking out with the most human expression from her eyes imaginable. We kept her once running from one corner of the table to the other several times, mean things that we were to tease her so. Doesn’t this show that cats can learn our language?

It was told about from one friend to another about the “educated cat that had learned the English language,” and Maltie had plenty of people come to see her do her “stunt.” She never failed to do it, not being contrary, as some animals are, but always ready to prove we had told no fairy tale about her abilities. Cats are wonderfully keen about “getting on to” spoken language. Now, Phoebe Snow, for instance, a 10-year-old cat, is never called “kitty” or “pussy,” but always “Phoebe,” and, if you speak her name in a low voice, she turns to see what you want.

TRUE STORIES ABOUT CATS: The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, September 7, 1919

“Bobs” was the only baby that Phoebe Snow had. Because it was the only one, Phoebe would not let that dear little black kitty stay in one place for long. She was suspicious of everyone, because she thought that every-one who came near her, was going to take her beloved furry baby away from her. In vain did we all get the nicest boxes and baskets, line them with warm flannel, and lay the baby and its mother in them. She would take the poor little cold baby (for it was winter), and carry it to the strangest places, such as the linoleum under the ironing table, or the landing of the kitchen stairs, also covered with linoleum. That kitten’s cries resounded through the house all day. “There! Phoebe Snow is moving her kitten again,” we would say, as a pitiful cry rent the air.

At last the Wise One of the family thought of the bottom section of a telescope bag. It proved to be a real inspiration. It was well padded with flannel warmed at the fire, and the Wise One put the kitten into it and set it before the kitchen fire, saying, “Now Phoebe Snow, will you let that kitten stay here, and give it a chance for its life?” Phoebe concluded to do so. She got into the nest warily, and lay down beside the kitten. As we took turns watching her, she did not dare to go contrary to us. I think, though, it was the odor of catnip about the bag which decided Phoebe. It had been brought from the country full of catnip.

Well, that kitten grew up to be a fine big animal, and was very masterful. You see, there was only one of him, and he had his own way, and ruled everything. There was a cat in the neighborhood that Bobs just hated, and would “go for” whenever he saw him. One morning that cat was in the front yard, Bobs saw him and rushed for him. The Wise One ran out to intercept the fight and put her hand down to push away the visitor before Bobs should get there. Too late, Bobs rushed, in frenzy at the cat, and instead of getting it, fastened his teeth deep in the Wise One's hand. Then there was a time! At last Bobs came to a sense of what he had done and let go the hand. If ever remorse was pictured in any face, it was in his. He rubbed against the Wise One, he purred, he “loved” her, he did everything to show he had not I meant to hurt her.

“Have the cat killed.” “Send it right away.” “Give it chloroform,” were some of the speeches of the neighbors who had passed by and seen the encounter. But the Wise One did nothing of the kind “Bobs is not mad,” she said. “He was only giving vent to his animosity toward that strange cat. He didn’t mean to hurt me, he only made a mistake and got the wrong party.” So Bobs was not killed or sent away, and though the Wise One had a very sore, puffed-up and angry-looking hand, she didn't have hydrophobia. Bobs lived for many years and was always a most devoted and loving cat to his mistress.

FUR COATS. Globe , 21st January 1920
The big demand for fur has been followed by a raid on the suburban cat, and many householders are mourning the loss of their pets. Does this explain the increased supply of that type of fur coat described as “Roof Tiger ”.

ODD FACTS ABOUT THE WORLD’S MANY KINDS OF CATS
San Francisco Chronicle, 19th September, 1920

“I love little Pussy, her coat is so, warm,
And if I don't pull her tail she will do me no harm.”

How familiar, to at least three generations, this old nursery jingle has been, inciting love for puss and “putting over” propaganda for the A. S. P. C. A. on unsuspecting youth at the same time. Among our English cousins who live on the Isle of Man the old rhyme is pointless, for the good and sufficient reason that their cats have no tails to pull. Just why nature discriminated against puss in this way, placing a topknot of hair at the end of the backbone instead of the usual snaky, waving appendage, seems to be shrouded in mystery. Of course, there are a few cats with tails on the island, generally imported from England or Scotland, but the tailless Manx cats are most in evidence. In northern Russia and in Japan there are a few of the tailless cats which, like the Manx variety, have hindquarters higher than the forequarters.

The royal cat of Siam has a long, thin tall, and in some instances it has a kink in it like the tail of a prize bulldog; these famous and beautiful cats are white when born and change gradually as they grow to a silky chocolate color, the coat shading to a cream tan under the belly, black face, legs and tail and big, blue eyes. Being semi-albinos they are rather delicate and hard to raise. They are first cousins to the Malay kink-tailed cats, which seem of a hardier race.

There is a hairless cat of Mexico, descendant of a famous Aztec breed, which is almost extinct, but they are strange enough in appearance to be interesting if a trifle repulsive. The common domestic cat of Paraguay has a shin coat, indefinite in color, of short hair laying flat to the body, like that of a dog. The cats weigh but three pounds and have a strangely elongated body.

India boasts a spotted cat of unusual appearance. Domestic cats of Abyssinia have long, pointed, very hairy ears, one special variety being called the “bunny” cat because it is marked exactly like a hare. Cats have been known in India for over 2000 years, though the domestication of cats from wild ancestors originated in Egypt, where they were worshipped as emblems of the sun because “their eyes change with the sun's course, and also each month change with the moon.” When a favorite cat died in an Egyptian home its owners always shaved their own eyebrows by way of appropriate mourning.

From Egypt the cat evidently entered Greece, a fact proven beyond doubt by a wonderful cat fresco found in the ruins of Pompeii. Cat killers in Wales, Switzerland and Saxony were punished in old times; the penalty in Wales being the payment of enough wheat to cover the body of the cat when it was held up by the tail, its nose touching the ground.

Among less civilised people cats are highly respected for being self-supporting and always bringing home their prey. In some localities they are trained to catch birds, the sale of which is a source of income to the owner of the cat.

White cats with blue eyes are very apt to be deaf, and in some cases the eyes are not both the same color. It is said that in China there is a cat with pendant ears, and in South America a breed that is voiceless, unable to wail; but it is difficult to find authentic proof as to the existence of either variety.

Most peculiar in appearance is the mombas cat of Africa. This animal has short, stiff, brushlike hair and orange-colored eyes, and is highly prized by the natives. The seven-toed Maltese cats with blue eyes are considered the finest of that breed. There are three shades of the tortoise shell cats, the species having black and nut-brown coloring, with green eyes, is held to be the most rare. The orange Persian cat is considered the most beautiful, though the black, white and blue phases of the breed are oftenest exhibited. The Angora has the finest hair of the long-haired cats and is a beautiful beast, though the Persian seems more popular. The coon cat of Maine has fine hair, almost as long as that of an Angora; it is only one generation removed from its wild ancestors, and though domesticated, it is in no sense a lap tabby. It is very intelligent and can be taught tricks and to follow its master like a dog.

The red tortoise shell cats are the suffragists of catdom, for there seems a great preponderance of females; in fact, a male of this breed is rarely to be found.

The ordinary life of a cat ranges from 12 to 18 years, during eight of these years the female is a breeder, averaging four litters a year. It is an untruth to believe that to be a good mouser a cat must be hungry. A well fed cat will do twice the service in this line, as mousing is the animal's sport and not the satisfaction of hunger.

WATCH YOUR CAT. Daily Mirror, 20th November 1919
A friend in South-West London says that a mysterious epidemic of cat-poisoning has broken out in that salubrious section. Every day adds to the number of victims. In one road there is not a cat left.

THE CHAMPION CAT – AND OTHERS! A NOBLE FELLOW. Sheffield Independent, 22nd December 1920
The Champion Cat Show was held at the Crystal Palace recently (writes R. L., in “The New Statesman”), but the champion cat was not there. One could not possibly allow him to appear in public-—especially in a miniature Zoo. He is for show, but not in a cage. He does not compete, because he is above competition. You know this as well as I. Probably you possess him. I certainly do. That is the supreme test of a cat’s excellence—the test of possession. One does not say “You should see Brailsford’s cat” or “You should see Adcock’s cat,” but “You should see my cat.” There is nothing are so egoistic about—not even children—as about cats. It is seldom that one hears a cat publicly reproached with guilt by anyone above a cook. He is not permitted to steal from one’s own larder. But if he visits the next-door house by stealth and returns over the wall with a Dover sole in his jaws, one really cannot help laughing.

The Dover Sole. One is a little nervous at first, and one’s mirth is tinged with pity as one thinks of the elderly and probably dyspeptic gentleman who has had his luncheon filched away almost from under his nose. If one were quite sure that it was from number 14, and not from number 9 or number 11, that the fish had been stolen, one might—conceivably—call round and offer to pay for it. But with a cat one is never quite sure. And one cannot call round on all one’s neighbours and make a general announcement that one’s cat is thief. As day follows day, and there is no sign of his irate and murder-bent figure advancing the path, one recovers one’s mental balance and begins to see the cat’s exploit in a new light. One does not yet extol it on moral grounds, but undoubtedly, the more one thinks of it, the deeper becomes one’s admiration. Of the two great heroes of the Greeks we admire one for his valour and one for his cunning. The epic of the cat is the epic of Odysseus. The old gentleman with the Dover sole gradually assumes the aspect of Polyphemus outwitted - outwitted and humiliated to the point of not even being able to throw things after his tormentor.

Those Yellow Eyes. for the Achillean sort of prowess, one does not demand it of a cat, but one is proud of it when it exists. There is a pleasure in seeing strange cats fly at his approach, either in single file over the wall or in the scattered aimlessness of a bursting bomb. Theoretically, one hates him to fight, but, if he does fight and comes home with a torn ear, one has to summon up all the resources of one’s finer nature in order not to rejoice on noticing that the cat next door looks as though it had been through a railway accident. I am sorry for the cat next door. I hate him so, and it must be horrible to be hated. But he should not sit on mv wall and look at me with yellow eyes. The only reason why I am not frightened of them is that the cat is so obviously frightened of me. I never did him any injury unless to hate is to injure. But he lowers his head when I appear as though he expected to be guillotined. He does not run away: he merely crouches like a guilty thing. Perhaps he remembers how often he has stepped delicately over my seed-beds, but not so delicately as to leave no mark of ruin among the infant lettuces and the broccoli.

Ablaze With Evil. These things I could forgive him, but it is not easy to forgive him the look in his eyes when he watches a bird at its song. They are ablaze with evil. He becomes a sort of Jack the Ripper at the opera. People tell us that we should not blame cats for this sort of thing - that it is their nature, and so forth. They even suggest that a cat is no more cruel in eating robin than one is cruel oneself in eating chicken. I have always thought that this is quibbling. In the first place, there is a great difference between a robin and a chicken. In the second place, one is willing to share one’s chicken with the cat—at least, one is willing to share the skin and any of the bones that are not required for soup. Besides, a cat has not the same need of delicacies as a human being. It can eat, and apparently digest, anything. On reflection, however, I doubt if it is his appetite for birds that makes the cat with the yellow eyes feel guilty. If you were able to talk to him in his own language, and thunder out your accusations against him as a bird-eater, he would probably be merely puzzled and look on you as a crank. If you compelled him to moralise his position, he would, I fancy, explain that the birds were very wicked creatures and that their cruelties to the worms were more than flesh and blood could stand.

The Retort Wormy. If cats were as clever as we, they would compile an atrocious blue-book about worms, Alas, poor thrush, with how bedraggled a reputation you would come through such an exposure! With how Hunnish a tread you would depicted treading the lawn, sparing neither age nor sex, seizing the infant worm as it puts out its head to take its first bewildered peep at the rolling sun! Cats could write sonnets on such a theme. Then there is that other beautiful potential poem, “The Cry of the Snail.” How tender-hearted cats are! Their sympathy seems to be all but universal, always on the look-out for an object, ready to extend itself anywhere where it is needed, except, of course, to their victims. Yellow eyes or not, I begin to be persuaded that the cat next door is a noble fellow. It may well be that his look as I pass is a look not of fear but of repulsion. He has seen me going out among the worms with a sharp—no, not a very sharp—spade, and regards me as no better than an ogre. If I could only explain to him! But I shall never be able to do so. He could no more appreciate my point view about worms than I can appreciate his about robins. Luckily, both eat chicken. This may help us to understand one another better.

CAT GETS $100 MEAL Hamilton Daily Times, 21st January 1920
(Canadian Press Wire.) New York. Jan. 21. - A stray tom cat projected himself into the annual poultry show in progress to-day in Madison Square Garden, and had a $100 breakfast on two carrier pigeons on exhibition by a Baltimore fancier. Only a few feathers were left to tell the tale.

A RUNAWAY MATCH? Daily Mirror, 2nd June 1920
The Most beautiful cat in London is missing. He is a Persian aristocrat, and rather gay. Once he belonged to the Baroness d'Erlanger, but he fell in love with the Australian officers next door, and became the pet of the members of the Lyceum Club, who took up their abode there directly the Aussies went home. Now he is gone, and his friends think he has eloped.

CATS BORN IN THE AIR Gloucestershire Echo, 5th August 1920
When the 12th United States Aero Squadron moved out of El Paso (Texas) the mascots, a pair of cats, were stowed away in one of the machines. When the squadron arrived at Nogales, Arizona, after the long flight, there were six cats. The four newcomers were about 5,000 feet above the arid lands of Arizona, while travelling anywhere from 100 to 125miles an hour. These are believed to be the first recorded births in the air.

A CAT AND DOG STORY. Western Daily Press, 21st December 1920
A Bristol gentleman, well-known in business circles, related a day or two ago a very interesting story concerning the solicitude of a dog for his hearthrug pal - the cat. The two belonged to a family who lived some distance out of London, but the time came when they had to remove their household into the metropolis. When they finally took their departure the cat was missing - they usually are when one is moving house - but the dog showed characteristic good sense in being on the spot when the family finally went away. A few days after they had settled down in their new home the dog disappeared; he was away the whole of one day, and his owners were greatly troubled because they thought he had been stolen. The next morning, however, two bedraggled and forlorn animals were found on the doorstep; they were the two household pets, and from inquiries made, it turned out that the dog went all the way back to his old home, and apparently escorted the cat to the new domicile. This story will probably be regarded with scepticism by those who have not had experience with dogs and cats, but many instances of a similar character, but even more remarkable details, are on authentic record.