100 Cats Who Changed Civilization (14 page)

London’s famous Savoy Hotel has been the epitome of grace and high style since it opened in 1889. From the start, it made a point of taking care of guests’ every need. That’s what made the unfortunate events of 1898 so unnerving. One night, a South African businessman named Woolf Joel booked a dinner for fourteen. But at the last minute one guest dropped out, turning it into a decidedly less festive party of thirteen. Of course, Joel was well aware of the old legend that the first person to rise from such an unlucky assembly will meet disaster. He chose to laugh off the danger. In a grand act of gallantry, he took any possible consequences upon himself by exiting first.

It was a brave deed—but perhaps a foolish one. Shortly after his return to South Africa, Joel was found murdered in his office.

Did his dining arrangements that night at the Savoy have anything to do with it? The management elected not to take any chances. For several years thereafter, a staff member would sit in with shorthanded groups, partaking of the meal at the hotel’s expense. However, since dining with a stranger could make for awkward table talk, a more permanent solution was developed. In
1927, a three-foot-tall wooden statue of a black cat was commissioned from artist Basil Ionides. The Art Deco sculpture was named Kaspar and deployed to round out lunch and dinner groups that formed an unfortunate baker’s dozen.

Since then, Kaspar has become a Savoy celebrity, often requested even by groups of more or less than the fateful thirteen. Like all other lunch and dinner guests, the mute feline has his cutlery and plates replaced with each course. The servers even tie a napkin daintily around his neck.

Over the decades, Kaspar has broken bread with numberless luminaries. The cat was a favorite of Winston Churchill, whose dining society, the Other Club, was born at the Savoy. The great wartime prime minister once had to come to Kaspar’s aid, securing his release after he was kidnapped as a prank by some Royal Air Force members. Perhaps Churchill liked him so much because he never, ever, repeated anything he heard at the table.

ORANGEY

THE QUEEN OF THE MOVIE
CAMEOS

When one thinks of four-legged actors and actresses, canines generally come to mind. But a handful of cats have also clawed their way to the top. At the summit of this short list of feline thespians proudly perches Orangey, a red tabby “discovered” by legendary animal trainer Frank Inn (whose other pupils included Benji and Arnold, the pig from
Green Acres)
. Orangey debuted in 1951 in the forgettable flick
Rhubarb
, which chronicled the story of a cat who inherits a baseball team.

Her later roles, however, were more stellar. In addition to playing Minerva in the 1950s television series
Our Miss Brooks
, she also found time for cameos in a number of well-known big-screen projects, including the science fiction classics
This Island Earth
and
The Incredible Shrinking Man
, in which she tried to chase down and eat the film’s diminutive title character. Orangey reached the pinnacle of her fame in 1961, playing opposite Audrey Hepburn as her pet cat, Cat, in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
. In 1952, she received a Patsy Award (the animal world’s equivalent of the Oscar) for
Rhubarb
, and in 1962 she crowned her career with another statuette for
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.

MIMSEY

THE CAT WHO MADE FUN
OF LEO THE LION

When Mary Tyler Moore Enterprises (MTM) debuted in the late 1960s, no one knew it would soon create such hits as
The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Hill Street Blues
, and
The Bob Newhart Show
. The upstart production company decided to trade on its passing resemblance to the Metro-Goldwyn Mayer (MGM) name to make it’s mark. That storied company was represented by a roaring lion. MTM wanted something similar, but since it was a much smaller, younger operation, management picked a much smaller, younger feline mascot—an orange kitten named Mimsey.

The former animal shelter inmate, only a few weeks old, was placed in front of a camera. She uttered a squeaky, uncertain meow, and her TV career was over. She was given to an MTM staffer as a pet.

But her TV incarnation developed a life of its own. The eternal kitten’s meow graced the closing credits of every MTM show. Over the decades her appearance was even tailored to fit specific programs. On
Hill Street Blues
she wore a police hat, and on
St. Elsewhere
a surgical mask. The real Mimsey passed on in 1988, but her TV doppelganger remains forever young.

TOWSER

THE WORLD’S MOST SPIRITED
MOUSE HUNTER

On the grounds of Scotland’s Glenturret Distillery, birthplace of the delectable Famous Grouse whiskey, stands a bronze statue honoring a distinguished former employee. But it doesn’t celebrate an owner or a particularly skilled distiller or even a human being. It bears the likeness of a female long-haired tortoiseshell cat named Towser, along with her proud claim to fame: “Towser, the famous cat who lived in the still house, Glenturret Distillery, for almost twenty-four years. She caught 28,899 mice in her lifetime. World mousing champion,
Guinness Book of Records.”

It’s no surprise that a distillery needs such a bloody-minded creature. The large amounts of barley stored there attract large numbers of rodents. At Glenturret, as at other distilleries, a feline is the first line of defense. But even among such exceptional company, Towser stood alone. During her very long life, Towser is estimated to have killed three mice every day from shortly after her birth on April 21, 1963, to shortly before her death on March 30, 1987.

This reign of rodent terror made Towser a celebrity. She appeared on television programs, received fan mail, and was much in demand for
photo opportunities with distillery visitors. After her death, she was replaced by another cat, Amber. Though Amber was quite happy to greet guests, during her tenure (which lasted until her own demise in 2004) she reportedly never killed a single mouse. Today her duties are performed by a former stray named Brooke, who earned her job in a Scotland-wide talent search. Unfortunately, when it comes to killing rodents, Brooke is no Towser. According to the Glenturret Web site, she’s “more usually found curled up on a barrel asleep in the sun than chasing mice.” Happily, improved grain storage techniques have drastically reduced the mouse population at Glenturret, leaving Brooke plenty of time for the task at which she truly excels—posing for photo ops with visitors.

How did Towser catch so many mice? Staffers at the distillery wonder if she got an extra boost from her evening saucer of milk, which was fortified with a “tiny wee dram” of the distillery’s powerful product. Perhaps she defended the place so well because she knew, from firsthand experience, what she was fighting for.

LUCKY

THE CAT WHO CREATED
AN ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN

Everyone knows Morris the Cat, the spokesfeline for 9 Lives Cat Food. The big orange tabby, who first took to the airwaves back in the ’60s, is famous for his jaded voice, blasé worldview, and, of course, his finicky attitude toward every comestible under the sun, save for 9 Lives.

That persona made him an icon. But the real-life feline who portrayed Morris was neither blasé nor finicky. A friendless stray can’t afford to be.

The cat selected to play Morris on TV was originally called Lucky. And lucky he was. An inmate at the Hinsdale Humane Society Animal Shelter in Lombard, Illinois, he was only hours away from being euthanized. But shelter officials saw something special in the cat’s distinguished good looks and green eyes. In the spring of 1967, they contacted animal trainer Bob Martwick, who was so smitten by the feline that he adopted him.

Springing for Lucky’s $5 adoption fee was the best investment Martwick ever made. A few months later he was contacted by the Leo Burnett Advertising Agency, which needed a good-looking cat to eat a bowl of food for a commercial. The product was, of course, 9 Lives. Lucky—soon to be rechristened Morris—wowed the agency’s executives, and in June
1969 he debuted on national TV. Almost overnight, an advertising icon was born. Soon bags of fan mail addressed to Morris inundated the 9 Lives headquarters. Even more to the point, mountains of their product flew off of store shelves.

Morris’s fame soon spread to other media. He appeared in the 1972 movie
Shamus;
posed for the cover of
Cat Fancy’s
thirtieth anniversary issue in 1995; and won back-to-back Patsy Awards (the animal world’s equivalent of the Oscar) in 1972 and 1973. He was also offered as a presidential candidate in 1988 and again in 1992.

But while the name and fame of Morris live on, his original alter ego, Lucky, passed away in 1975. Since then he’s been played by a string of look-alikes. The current incarnation lives in Los Angeles with his trainer, Rose Ordile. The original Morris, who lived to an estimated age of nineteen, was buried with great ceremony in Martwick’s backyard.

THE MEOW
MIX CAT

THE CAT WHO ALMOST GAVE
HIS LIFE FOR ADVERTISING