The wings of pop culture have spread the talisman’s influence around the world—sometimes in unexpected ways. One of the most famous Pokémon characters, Meowth, is an anime incarnation of Maneki Neko. And the ubiquitous Hello Kitty bears more than a passing resemblance to the famous feline. Even her name is considered by some to be a loose translation of that of the beckoning cat.
RUTTERKIN
THE CAT WHO WAS ACCUSED OF MURDER
During the Middle Ages, European cats received some of the worst press in the history of the species. They were accused of being agents of evil and of serving as familiars for witches. Popes occasionally railed against them, and public disapproval of felines could grow so heated that they would be exterminated from entire towns.
One example of this overreaction took place in Lincoln, England, in 1618. Joan Flower and her daughters, Margaret and Philippa Flower, were accused by the local magistrates of using the dark arts to take revenge on their employers, the Earl and Countess of Rutland. History doesn’t record the reasons for their ire. However, it describes their alleged methods in forensic detail. According to testimony from the women (extracted, as was usual at that time, under torture and intense interrogation), Joan Flower possessed a spirit familiar called Rutterkin, which manifested itself in the form of a sinister-looking black cat. The feline was their weapon of choice when casting spells. One favorite tactic was to steal gloves from members of the Earl’s family, boil them, prick them full of holes, and then rub them along Rutterkin’s back. According to court proceedings, this odd-sounding bewitchment accomplished the death of the Earl of Rutland’s son, Lord Ross.
And what did the supposedly demonic cat get in exchange? In addition to the women’s immortal souls, he also was allowed to feed on Joan Flower’s blood.
The death of Lord Ross, plus various odd illnesses suffered by other close relations, finally drove the Earl of Rutland’s family to believe that the Flowers were hatching some sort of plot against them. The women, after enduring all the usual inducements available to the medieval legal system, signed confessions. Joan died in custody, but her daughters were burned at the stake.
What became of Rutterkin? One hopes he had the good sense to simply slink away. His kind were maligned throughout Christendom, making it impossible for the hapless feline to get a fair hearing. Even today, in our supposedly enlightened era, his descendants are slandered in everything from Halloween cards to cheap, straight-to-video horror flicks. In a very real sense, today’s black cats have one paw in the Dark Ages.
SINH
THE LEGENDARY CAT WHO WAS THE FIRST BIRMAN
Few cat breeds have histories as colorful—or as steeped in violence—as the Birman. This elegant, distinctive-looking longhaired cat owes its existence to two redoubtable felines, one of them legendary, the other quite real.
The first, called Sinh, was supposedly one of a hundred snow-white, yellow-eyed cats inhabiting the Temple of Lao-Tsun in Burma. There the golden, blue-eyed, female goddess, who oversaw the transmutation of souls from one plane of existence to the next, was worshipped by the Khmer people of Southeast Asia. Sinh was a particular favorite of the shrine’s chief monk, Mun-Ha.
One night raiders attacked the temple, mortally wounding Mun-Ha. As the monk lay dying, Sinh planted his feet on his master’s chest and faced the golden statue of the goddess. Suddenly his white body turned to gold and his yellow eyes to sapphire blue. His legs turned brown like the earth, but his feet, where they touched the priest’s body, became snow white as a symbol of purity. Not long afterward, all the other temple cats were similarly transformed.
Sinh, who had also taken up the soul of Mun-Ha, remained standing in front of the statue of Lao-Tsun, his eyes locked on hers. He died after seven days, delivering the spirit of his master to heaven. Afterward, it was said that whenever a Birman temple cat expired, the soul of a dead priest accompanied it to paradise.
Ironically, a tragedy not unlike the one that inspired the story of Sinh was instrumental in bringing this exotic breed to the West. In the early years of the twentieth century, the ancient temple was once more attacked by raiders. This time, however, two outsiders, Englishmen Major Gordon Russell and his friend Auguste Pavie were on hand to assist the monks in repelling the assault. Years later, in 1919, the monks sent Pavie, who had relocated to Europe, a reward—a male and female Birman. The male died during the long sea voyage to his new home, but the female arrived safely, and she was pregnant. It is generally believed that this single feline and her kittens formed the root stock of the Western branch of the Birman family.
SIAM
AMERICA’S FIRST SIAMESE CAT
For centuries the world-famous Siamese cat could be found only in Siam (now Thailand). There they allegedly guarded Buddhist shrines and attended members of the royal family. It didn’t hurt that they were also arrestingly beautiful. Then, as now, the typical Siamese sported a light-colored body with black feet, tail, and face, accented by glittering blue eyes.
These cats were destined to become one of the world’s most popular breeds. But in the late 1800s, the creatures were largely unknown outside their home country. Their very first overseas ambassador went abroad in 1878, when David B. Sickels, a diplomat at the U.S. consulate in Bangkok, elected to send one to Lucy Hayes, wife of then-president Rutherford B. Hayes.
Considering everything the poor cat went through to reach America, one can understand why Siamese cats weren’t exported much. The beleaguered feline traveled for two months, first going overland from Bangkok to Hong Kong, then by sea to San Francisco, then traversing the entire North American continent to Washington, D.C. She finally arrived at the White House, tucked inside a Wells Fargo crate, in early 1879.
The Hayes family was delighted, and named the exotic-looking female Siam. She enjoyed the run of the executive mansion and made a habit of walking in on political functions, where her looks always caused a stir.
Sadly, her stateside tour didn’t last long. In the fall of 1879, she fell ill. The White House staff plied her with every delicacy imaginable, and the president’s personal physician, Dr. J. H. Baxter, was called in. He took Siam home with him so he could provide round-the-clock care, but to no avail. In October she finally expired.
The presidential family, the White House staff, and cat fanciers in general were greatly saddened, because Siam had made quite an impression during her brief stateside sojourn. Interestingly, the cat’s remains may still reside somewhere in the bowels of the government. After Siam’s death, the president’s steward, Billy Crump, supposedly delivered her body to the Secretary of Agriculture, with instructions that it should be preserved. Whether this happened—and where the remains might be—is now an open question. Careful searches of the Department of Agriculture and of the Smithsonian Institution’s vast holdings turned up neither hide nor hair of Siam.
TIGER
THE CAT WHO WAS KIDNAPPED FROM THE WHITE HOUSE