PARIS CATS.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1578, 25 February 1887, Page 4

PARIS CATS.

■ A good many articles and books,! says the Paris Figaro, have been written abont the dogs of Constants | nople, which are distributed over the town in regular quarters, live on their own resources, and manage all their little affairs themselves. Why should we not say a few words aboutj the cats of Paris ? The feline colonies of Paris are quite as well worth j studying as the Turkish dogs. Parisians have a habit which is no , less stupid than cruel. When a cat has kittens everyone goes into rhapsodies over their prettiness. The kittens are spoiled. They have their milk brought them, they are fondled and thought much of. But no Booner do, they grow up than their owners suddenly come to the conclusion that they are troublesome and useless animals, if, indeed, not positively dangerous to the children. What do you suppose happens then ? The owner takes poor pussy out one fine day and —loses it. Of course be would never dream of killing a cat. No, indeed. He could never bring himself to kill such a sweet pretty creature. He prefers to lose it ? that is to say, to make it suffer a a thousand tortures. After being brought up in cotton wool, pussy will have to go a-wandering in the cold and rain, with all the dogs at its heels and all the boys in the neighbourhood giving chase with sticks anl stones. After having lived daintily on bread and milk, it will not even have the garbage in the street to feed on, now that the police regulation has forbid* den rubbish heaps to be made in the gutters. In a very few days the poor beast will be dead of misery. But its mwtpr will have the satisfaction of saying:—"l was too tender-hearted to kill it. I only lost it." There are whole colonies of cats in the Paris markets, and every day these are swollen by the arrival of new recruits. From time to time they get 10 numerous that they are really dangerous. At the Hales Centrales the commissaire de police has often had to authorise regular battues of the skinny, starving cats who ro m about there like wild beasts, to the public

peril. In many Parisian houses, especially thoae boasting large gardens, there are feline colonies. A round dozen of cats, at least, have been brought to my house in the dead ot the night in halfopen baskets. How do they live, poor creatures ? Now and then a charitable aoul haa compassion on them. But this ia the exception, and it is not prudent to be pitiful. Once you feed them the grateful animals will come back to be fed again. I have adopted aa many as five, one ofter another, and kept them alive till I had succeeded in getting homes for them. In the Rue Condorcet the house of Prof. Duprcz was turned into an aaylum for a whole army of abandoned cats. ... 1 might also mention

the cat colonies in the cellars of the jFigaro office, where tbey defend the paper and printing implements from the assaults of the rata and mice which infest the place. But I will go on at once to the most curious of the cat colonies in Paris—the one at the prefecture de police. No matter at what hour of the day or night von may chance to be pataing by the big buildings which stretch from the court of aaaizea to the tribu-

nil corrections], you will see an army of eats, of all sizfs, breed*, and colours, seated, lying down, or prowling about the place. To wbom do tbey belong ? To nobody. They are all lost cats. Who feeds them ? "La mere anx chats."

Every morning, wet weather or fine, at nine in the morning and nine at night, a good old lady arrives, bending beneath the weight of a heavy basket. The settles down in the court-yard known as the Cour du Depot, and takes a number of saucers out of her basket, and puts a piece of meat on each. The cats know their feedinghours and cluster around. Then the distribution begins. All is done fairly. There is no squabbling. Each little boarder waits his turn, knowing it will not be forgotten. As she serves them the good old " mother of the cats " has a kind word and a caress for each, and each cat answers with a grateful purr. When'all have fed, the "mere dts chats" bids her children good-bye, gathers up her saucers, and depaits. I have taken some pains to find out the goon wotaan's name. She is a Mm«- W , and lives with her son, an usher of the Cour de Cassation. She is 03 years old, and has fed the cats of the prefecture for the past five years. At first her son tried to prevent her; but she would not be dissuaded, appealed to the administration, and had the nermission she needed formally granted her. She has only one trouble —the thought that she is growing old. "If I were to fall ill,' she exclaims, " who would feed the poor things." There are many other cat colonies in Paris, but it would take too long to describe them.