100 Cats Who Changed Civilization Read online

  Copyright © 2007 by Quirk Productions, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Number: 2006937818

  eISBN: 978-1-59474-588-1

  Designed by Bryn Ashburn

  Illustrations by Gina Triplett

  e-book production management by Melissa

  Quirk Books

  215 Church Street

  Philadelphia, PA 19106

  quirkbooks.com

  v3.1

  To Ted.

  He might not have been

  the greatest cat in the world,

  but he was the greatest

  in mine.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Science and Nature

  History and Government

  Art and Literature

  Popular Culture

  Profiles in Courage

  INTRODUCTION

  “Cats are a mysterious kind of folk. There is more passing in their minds than we are aware of.”

  —Sir Walter Scott

  Cats have communed with mankind since before the dawn of civilization. Yet discovering the handful who helped shape our history was no easy task. The typical feline is blithely uninterested in the comings and goings of the human race. It’s part—perhaps the most important part—of their character. The people around them can do as they like, so long as there is food in the food dish, clean litter in the litter box, and a sunny window ledge from which to watch the world go by.

  Nevertheless, over the centuries certain individuals of the feline persuasion have seen fit to exert themselves on humanity’s behalf. For the most part they do it in their own distinctive way, for their own inscrutable reasons. Blatant grandstanding, such as, say, rescuing a toddler from a burning tenement, just isn’t their style. Those escapades are best left to dogs.

  Instead of showing off, many of the cats profiled in the following pages earned their laurels in more subtle ways. These luminaries could be divided into four broad groups: muses, pioneers, antiheroes, and heroes.

  The muses made their marks by willingly giving companionship, inspiration, or even a simple morale boost to needy geniuses. Cattarina, the feline associate of Edgar Allan Poe, served as a template for one of the greatest horror stories ever written. And it was a tomcat named Macek who inspired scientist Nicola Tesla to begin his world-changing study of electricity.

  Some of the “pioneers” earned spots in the history books without even knowing it. A Canadian cat named Snowball was quite unaware that a few strands of her hair not only caught a killer, but revolutionized criminal forensics as well. Likewise, one can rest assured that a feline named F. D. C. Willard never knew he coauthored a research paper on low-energy physics. Furthermore, a black cat called Colby hasn’t the slightest inkling that he was awarded an executive MBA.

  Of course, not all cats who changed history did so for the better. Thankfully, this small rogue’s gallery of antiheroes is likewise ignorant of its misdeeds. A lighthouse keeper’s pet named Tibbles never knew that he was the only creature to single-handedly wipe out an entire species. And a kitten named Ahmedabad was spared all knowledge of the serious diplomatic row he triggered between Pakistan and the United States.

  Finally, this book would be remiss were it not to enumerate the sagas of classic hero cats—felines who during a crisis displayed such human-centric characteristics as bravery, resourcefulness, and resolve. To this elite group belongs Mourka, who assisted Russian forces during the bloody battle for Stalingrad; Trixy, who stood by her human associate during his imprisonment in the infamous Tower of London; and Tommy, who used a phone to call the police when his wheelchair-bound owner was incapacitated.

  All these felines, plus the dozens of others enshrined in these pages, changed history in small—and sometimes not-so-small—ways. Their indifference, indeed their obliviousness to their achievements, could serve as an example for vain humans, many of whom make a much bigger fuss over much more modest accomplishments.

  TIBBLES

  THE CAT WHO WIPED OUT

  AN ENTIRE SPECIES

  Felines are famous for their skill at eradicating mice, rats, and birds. But no cat in the history of civilization can match the unbridled bloodlust displayed by a humble lighthouse keeper’s pet named Tibbles. He’s become famous—or rather, infamous—in the annals of science as the only animal to have wiped out an entire species by itself.

  The unlucky species in question was the Stephens Island wren. By all accounts, it was as unusual as it was harmless. Because there were originally no mice in the corner of the world where it evolved, the wren adapted to fill that ecological niche. It lost the ability to fly, shrank to roughly the size of a rodent, and spent its days running at top speed through the underbrush. But though it couldn’t fly, the wren retained the ability to sing.

  At one time this fragile, musical, mouselike bird called all of New Zealand home. But when South Pacific islanders arrived, they brought stowaway rats on their ships—rats that quickly invaded the local ecosystem. The wrens, completely helpless against the sudden onslaught of such a powerful and ruthless predator, were quickly exterminated. Their last rat-free redoubt was Stephens Island, a roughly one-square-mile spit of rock off New Zealand’s northern coast.

  That’s how matters stood until 1894, when a lighthouse was established there. Its keeper, David Lyall, brought along his cat, Tibbles, for company. One can only imagine the feline’s delight at finding the island overrun with bite-sized, flightless birds. Not surprisingly, Tibbles got straight to work, attacking the little creatures wherever he found them.

  Tibbles alerted his owner to his new hobby by hauling more than a dozen of his victims back to the lighthouse, all of them dead or nearly so. Lyall kept several, which because of their strangeness found their way into the hands of ornithologists. In 1895 the little animal was unveiled to the scientific world and given the Latin name Xenicus lyalli. Then, almost in the same breath, it was declared extinct.

  The ecological destruction inaugurated by a pack of rats was, ironically, completed by a lone cat. It never occurred to the lighthouse keeper, or anyone else, that given the unique (and uniquely fragile) nature of the Stephens Island fauna, it might have been a good idea to make Tibbles an indoor cat.

  SNOWBALL

  THE CAT WHO CAUGHT

  A KILLER

  Douglas Beamish thought he got away with murder. And he might have, if it weren’t for the case-making evidence furnished by his cat.

  It happened in 1994, when Canadian authorities on Prince Edward Island found Shirley Duguay buried in a shallow grave. Royal Canadian Mounted Police were called in to investigate. They paid particular attention to a blood-soaked leather jacket in a plastic bag that had been buried along with the body. Unfortunately, the blood was all Duguay’s, and therefore useless for DNA comparisons. But forensics experts discovered something else: twenty-seven strands of white hair that, upon closer examination, were determined to come from a cat. The Mounties recalled that Beamish, Duguay’s estranged common-law husband, lived not too far from the grave site with his parents—and that they owned a white feline named Snowball.

  The Mounties obtained a blood sample from Snowball, hoping to compare it to the DNA in the hairs. The problem, they soon discovered, was that no one had ever done such a thing before. After a series of calls, the authorities located perhaps the only people on the planet who could help—a team of researchers at the National Cancer Institute’s Laboratory of Genomic Dive
rsity in Frederick, Maryland, which was developing a map of the feline genome.

  The academics had never before participated in a CSI-style criminal investigation, and it took some convincing to get them on board. Once they signed on, however, they were able to quickly isolate the genetic code in the jacket hairs and match it to the blood sample from Snowball. Using this evidence, and the expert testimony of the scientists who developed the technology, Beamish was convicted of murder and sent to prison. The case set a precedent for the use of cat DNA to place criminals at the scenes of crimes. Afterward, the U.S. Department of Justice awarded a $265,000 grant to create a National Feline Genetic Database. It developed the technology necessary to help forensics labs around the world trace cat hairs found at crime scenes to specific pets. Thanks to Snowball, criminals (about a third of whom own felines) can now be busted by their own furry friends.

  MACEK

  THE CAT WHO GLOWED

  IN THE DARK

  Physicist, electrical engineer, and inventor Nikola Tesla is considered one of the most prolific and enigmatic geniuses of all time. In addition to pioneering the systems that made home electricity practical, he was instrumental in developing radio. His more futuristic pursuits included building machines to communicate with extraterrestrials, creating remote-controlled vehicles, and even attempting to refute Einstein’s work on a unified field theory.

  This was pretty heady stuff for a man born in 1856.

  He was definitely ahead of his time. When Tesla, who became a U.S. citizen, died in a New York City hotel room in 1943 at the age of eighty-six, the FBI swooped down on his residence, rounded up his papers, and sealed them in a secret file. In his later years the great scientist was rumored to be tinkering with a “death ray.” The powers that be couldn’t afford not to believe it.

  From his youth, Tesla was fascinated by the unknown—a fascination inspired by his cat. He grew up in an isolated farmhouse in what is now Croatia. As a child, his beloved companion was a large feline named Macek (Serbian for “male cat”). Tesla, who described his four-legged friend as “the finest of all cats in the world,” went everywhere with him.

  As a boy of three, Tesla displayed no particular interest in science. But during one particularly cold and dry winter day, a huge charge of static electricity built up in the atmosphere. People who walked in the snow left glowing footprints, and snowballs exploded like fireworks when they were thrown against walls or trees.

  But that was nothing compared to what happened to Macek. “In the dusk of the evening, as I stroked Macek’s back, I saw a miracle that made me speechless with amazement,” Tesla wrote in later years. “Macek’s back was a sheet of light and my hand produced a shower of sparks loud enough to be heard all over the house.” Even more amazing, when the cat walked through darkened rooms, he faintly glowed.

  The sight fired the boy’s imagination, and sent him on a lifelong quest to understand electricity. Some say that Tesla, through his work, helped make the twentieth century possible. If so, then the world also owes a debt to Macek, who inspired him.

  BLACKBERRY

  THE QUEEN OF THE MUNCHKINS

  Some cat breeds sport long hair, some short, some almost none. Some are lithe and athletic, others stocky and sedentary. All these differences have been readily accepted by cat fanciers, save one. In the early 1990s, the breeding community was set afire by a new kind of feline with very short legs. It was called the munchkin, and it is, without doubt, the world’s most controversial cat.

  The saga began in 1983 in Rayville, Louisiana. A woman named Sandra Hochenedel found two cats trying to escape a bulldog by hiding under a pickup truck. Both were pregnant, and both had unusually short legs that made them look like a cross between a ferret and a dachshund. Hochenedel named the gray one Blueberry and gave it away. She named the black one Blackberry and kept it.

  Blackberry promptly produced a litter of kittens, including a short-legged male. Hochenedel named him Toulouse and gave him to a friend, Kay LaFrance of Monroe, Louisiana. There Toulouse contributed enthusiastically to the local gene pool. Soon there were many short-legged cats and kittens slinking around the property. The two women, curious about the health of the little creatures, had them examined by Dr. Solveig Pflueger, chief of the genetics committee for The International Cat Association (TICA). She offered the opinion that the munchkins were physically sound. Interestingly, this sort of mutation seems to arise regularly. During the twentieth century, similar short-legged cats were reported everywhere from Russia to Germany to Great Britain.

  Not everyone saw it that way, however. For years munchkin breeders were given the cold shoulder by cat shows and breed organizations, most of which saw them as unhealthy genetic aberrations. Words such as freak and abomination were used liberally. Munchkin owners were sometimes ejected from competitions. When TICA finally recognized Blackberry’s progeny as a new breed in 1995, one veteran cat show judge resigned in protest, describing the cats as “an affront to any breeder with ethics.”

  In spite—or perhaps because—of the controversy, the munchkin has gained worldwide fame. The demand for munchkin kittens keeps rising, with some costing thousands of dollars. All because of poor Blackberry. Ever an outdoor cat, she one day simply vanished from Hochenedel’s property—unaware or unconcerned that she was the founder of a dynasty.

  F. D. C. WILLARD

  THE CAT WHO TAUGHT US PHYSICS

  Few humans can match the academic achievements ascribed to a certain Siamese named Felis Domesticus Chester (F. D. C.) Willard. He proved his mental mettle by coauthoring—with his human companion, Michigan State University professor J. H. Hetherington—two research papers on low-energy physics.

  Willard earned his unique place in scientific history thanks to a typing issue. When Hetherington asked an associate to proof an article before submission, he was told that because he was the sole author, the piece couldn’t be published until the editorial we—used throughout—was changed to I. Nowadays this could be accomplished using the “find and replace all” function on one’s computer. But this was 1975, and Hetherington would have to spend days retyping.

  Instead, he found a collaborator. He gave F. D. C. Willard second billing on the title page of his article, which was duly published in Physical Review Letters. The piece was so warmly received that in 1980 Hetherington presented a second scholarly work under his cat’s name alone. The subterfuge was finally exposed when a visitor to Hetherington’s office, upon learning the professor was out, asked to see Willard instead.

  SIR ISAAC

  NEWTON’S CAT

  THE INSPIRATION FOR THE CAT DOOR

  Physicist Sir Isaac Newton was one of history’s greatest mathematicians and theorists. During his lifetime he made numerous contributions to science, including developing the laws of celestial mechanics, codeveloping calculus, and conducting groundbreaking work on everything from the nature of light spectra to measurements of the speed of sound. But few realize that Newton was also a pet lover—or that sometimes his numerous animal friends could drive him to distraction. For instance, he once suffered an emotional breakdown when a favorite dog knocked over a candle on his desk, burning some of his important research notes.

  His dealings with an annoying cat yielded happier results. The world’s felines (and canines, for that matter) owe an everlasting debt of gratitude to this overbearing pet, whose name is lost to history. According to legend, it constantly interrupted Newton with its demands to be let in and out of the house. Frustrated, the scientist quickly designed and implemented a solution—the pet door. Today, every feline blessed with the ability to enter and leave a room without troubling his or her human friends has Newton (and his restless charge) to thank.

  TEE CEE

  THE CAT WHO PREDICTED

  SEIZURES

  Were it not for their quirky, independent personalities, cats might be naturals for all sorts of jobs usually done by service dogs. Keenly observant and alert to the slightest changes in their su
rroundings, felines could make wonderful guardians. So far, however, they’ve firmly rejected any such callings.

  All save for one.

  The cat in question is named Tee Cee, and he has earned international fame for his uncanny ability to predict epileptic seizures—a skill he’s used to ease the suffering of his grateful owner. Ironically, the English feline had endured quite a bit at the hands of a human, who stuffed Tee Cee and his littermates in a box and tossed it in a river. He was rescued and taken to an adoption center, where he became the pet of Michael Edmonds, a Sheffield man who suffers from an extremely dangerous and unpredictable form of epilepsy. The disorder causes sudden, violent seizures that strike without warning. The problem is so serious that Edmonds can’t leave home unescorted, for fear of having an attack at some unexpected time or place.

  Edmonds’s new cat provided almost providential help. Tee Cee took a great deal of interest in his new owner—particularly, it seemed, when he was about to seize. This was remarkable, because Edmonds displays no symptoms prior to attacks. Or at least, none detectable by humans. “We noticed that Tee Cee began staring at my stepfather prior to a seizure and then ran to my mother to let her know all is not well, acting as an early warning system,” Edmonds’s stepdaughter, Samantha Laidler, told the BBC. “Once assistance arrives, Tee Cee doesn’t leave Michael’s side until he regains consciousness, and his warnings have proved invaluable to the family.”

  The behavior was so unexpected that it took a while for family members to make the connection between Tee Cee’s staring sessions and Edmonds’s epileptic fits. But once the link was established, the fame of the former stray spread far and wide. In 2006 he was nominated for a prestigious Rescue Cat of the Year Award—quite an accomplishment for a feline who was once, literally, thrown away as garbage.