THE CAT OF ANTIQUITY s 



accident, says Diodorus of Sicily, a Roman citizen 

 was torn to pieces by the infuriated populace of 

 Thebes. So imminent, indeed, was this peril, that 

 an Egyptian who chanced to witness Pussy's death, 



— happily no common occurrence, as a cat, like an 

 Englishman, considers dying a strictly private affair, 



— stood trembling and bathed in tears, plaintively 

 announcing to the world that he at least had no part 

 in such a pitiful calamity. Yet even a tender and 

 far-reaching solicitude could not always save the 

 Egyptian cat from harm. Fires were of frequent 

 occurrence, and the creature's terror occasionally 

 prevented its rescue, and drove it straight into the 

 flames. " When this happens, it diffuses universal 

 sorrow," says Herodotus, with that graceful sym- 

 pathy which is so pleasing, because so rare, in the 

 historian. 



Writers of a later date were far less tolerant of 

 feline dignities. Timocles observes cynically that 

 when irreverence to the great gods so often escapes 

 unpunished, he can hardly fear to violate the shrine 

 of a cat. Anaxandrides of Rhodes presents with 

 fine brutality the Greek point of view, in his comedy, 

 "The Cities." "If you see a cat indisposed," 

 sneers one of the characters to an Egyptian, " you 

 weep for it. For my part, I am well pleased to kill 

 it for its skin." 



The exact era of Pussy's domestication in Egypt 



