Cats and Dogs at Odds
Posted March 7th, 2010.Categories: Uncategorizable
Our friend came by to visit us yesterday with her new four-month old puppy, a friendly Golden Retriever named Mia. Since we already have a fairly complacent ten-year old tom cat at our place (who is just slightly smaller in size than Mia), I was curious how they would interact.
Historically the stereotype has been that dogs chase cats. This was, however, not the case during that visit. At best, our (typically affectionate) cat took a defensive stance with requisite hissing; at worst, he methodically advanced towards and took some fairly aggressive warning swipes at poor, playful Mia.
Though no injuries were suffered, this was definitely not a helpful step in the ongoing peace process between felines and canines. But it did very much remind me of a passage worth sharing from Jerome K. Jerome’s humourous 1889 classic, “Three Men in a Boat“, where the author’s dog, a fox terrier named Montmorency, has an encounter with a cat during the course of their travels. I’ve excerpted this portion of chapter 13 from the original text (a version with the original illustrations), though the pure text is available here (via Project Gutenburg). Enjoy!
We got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a bathe before breakfast; and, coming back, Montmorency made an awful ass of himself. The only subject on which Montmorency and I have any serious difference of opinion is cats. I like cats; Montmorency does not.
When I meet a cat, I say, “Poor Pussy!” and stop down and tickle the side of its head; and the cat sticks up its tail in a rigid, cast-iron manner, arches its back, and wipes its nose up against my trousers; and all is gentleness and peace. When Montmorency meets a cat, the whole street knows about it; and there is enough bad language wasted in ten seconds to last an ordinarily respectable man all his life, with care.
I do not blame the dog (contenting myself, as a rule, with merely clouting his head or throwing stones at him), because I take it that it is his nature. Fox-terriers are born with about four times as much original sin in them as other dogs are, and it will take years and years of patient effort on the part of us Christians to bring about any appreciable reformation in the rowdiness of the fox-terrier nature … and, therefore, I do not blame Montmorency for his tendency to row with cats; but he wished he had not given way to it that morning.
We were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High Street a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began to trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joy - the cry of a stern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his hands - the sort of cry Cromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hill - and flew after his prey.
His victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more disreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears, and a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long, sinewy- looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.
Montmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour; but the cat did not hurry up - did not seem to have grasped the idea that its life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be assassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down in the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle, inquiring expression, that said:
“Yes! You want me?”
Montmorency does not lack pluck; but there was something about the look of that cat that might have chilled the heart of the boldest dog. He stopped abruptly, and looked back at Tom.
Neither spoke; but the conversation that one could imagine was clearly as follows:-
THE CAT: “Can I do anything for you?”
MONTMORENCY: “No - no, thanks.”
THE CAT: “Don’t you mind speaking, if you really want anything, you know.”
MONTMORENCY (BACKING DOWN THE HIGH STREET): “Oh, no - not at all - certainly - don’t you trouble. I - I am afraid I’ve made a mistake. I thought I knew you. Sorry I disturbed you.”
THE CAT: “Not at all - quite a pleasure. Sure you don’t want anything, now?”
MONTMORENCY (STILL BACKING): “Not at all, thanks - not at all - very kind of you. Good morning.”
THE CAT: “Good-morning.”
Then the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what he calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up an unimportant position in the rear.
To this day, if you say the word “Cats!” to Montmorency, he will visibly shrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:
“Please don’t.”
Although this book was originally intended as a serious travel guide for those who wanted to visit the sites along the Thames River, it actually is more of a series of very witty anecdotes of the amusing adventures of three friends and their dog. Here are a couple of on-line reviews which have also cited some of their own favourite portions of the book. And, based on the above cat and dog encounters, it appears some of his writing is quite timeless.







