Cat Tails

I have edited Clive Gilson’s books for over a decade now – he’s prolific and can turn his hand to many genres. poetry, short fiction, contemporary novels, folklore, and science fiction – and the common theme is that none of them ever fails to take my breath away. There’s something in each story that is either memorably poignant, hauntingly unnerving, or sidesplittingly funny. 

Lorna Howarth, The Write Factor

Tales From The World's Firesides is a grand project. I've collected ‘000’s of traditional texts as part of other projects, and while many of the original texts are available through channels like Project Gutenberg, some of the narratives can be hard to read by modern readers, and so the Fireside project was born. Put simply, I collect, collate and adapt traditional tales from around the world and publish them as a modern archive. I'm not laying any claim to insight or specialist knowledge, but these collections are born out of my love of storytelling and I hope that you'll share my affection for traditional tales, myths & legends.

Chapter image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

Cover image by Clive Gilson

CAT TAILS

Traditional tales, fables and sagas that feature our feline friends

Compiled, Adapted & Edited by Clive Gilson

Tales from the World’s Firesides

Cat Tails, edited by Clive Gilson, Solitude, Bath, UK

www.clivegilson.com

First print edition © 2024, Clive Gilson

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by United Kingdom copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed by IngramSpark

ISBN: 978-1-915081-31-5

CONTENTS

Preface

How The First Cat Was Created

The Fox And The Cat

The Cat And The Cradle

The Cat In The Bag

The Cat And The Mouse

Why The Cat Kills Rats

Kisa The Cat

Johnny Reed’s Cat

The Vampire Cat Of Nabéshima

The Spectral Cat

A Cat, A Mouse, A Lizard And An Owl

The Grave Prince And The Beneficent Cat

How The Manx Cat Lost Her Tail

The Colony Of Cats

Mikko The Fox And Mirri The Cat

The Crow And Cat Of Hopkins Hill

The Lion And The Cat

Dinah Cat And The Witch

The Cat On The Dovrefell

Why Do Cats And Dogs Fight? #1

Why Do Cats And Dogs Fight? #2

The Bear, The Dog, And The Cat

The Tigers And The Cat

The Greedy Cat

Story Of The Foolish Teacher, The Foolish Pupils, And The Cat

The White Cat Of Ecija

Domingo's Cat

The Cats Who Made Their Master Rich

The Master Cat; Or, Puss In Boots

The Cat Of Norrhult

Why The Cat Always Falls Upon Her Feet

The Pike and the Cat

The White Cat

The Cat's Elopement

The Greedy Palm-Cat

The Cat and the Mouse

The Cottager And His Cat

The Lazy Cat

Pussy Willow

The Troll Turned Cat

The Hypocritical Cat

Belling The Cat

Brother Rabbit and Mr. Wildcat

The Clever Cat

The Heron, The Cat & The Bramble

The Hen And The Cat

The Cat And The Sparrows

The Contessa's Cat

The Cat Who Guarded The Precepts

The King Of The Cats

The Demon Cat

The Cat Who Became Head-Forester

Seanchan The Bard And The King Of The Cats

Why Do Cats Eat Mice?

King Arthur And The Cat

Whittington And His Cat

Why Does A Cat Sit On The Doorstep In The Sun?

The Cat, The Cock, And The Fox

A ’Rastle With A Wildcat

Bobcat And Birch Tree

Cat And Dog

Cat And Mouse In Partnership

Cat-Skin

The Old Woman's Cat

About The Editor

Preface

I’ve been collecting and telling stories for a couple of decades now, having had several of my own works published in recent years. My particular focus is on short story writing in the realms of magical realities and science fiction fantasies.

I’ve always drawn heavily on traditional folk and fairy tales, and in so doing have amassed a collection of many thousands of these tales from around the world. It has been one of my long-standing ambitions to gather these stories together and to create a library of tales that tell the stories of places and peoples from the four corners of our world.

One of the main motivations for me in undertaking the project is to collect and tell stories that otherwise might be lost or, at best forgotten. Given that a lot of my sources are from early collectors, particularly covering works produced in the late eighteenth century, throughout the nineteenth century, and in the early years of the twentieth century, I do make every effort to adapt stories for a modern reader. Early collectors had a different world view to many of us today, and often expressed views about race and gender, for example, that we find difficult to reconcile in the early years of the twenty-first century. I try, although with varying degrees of success, to update these stories with sensitivity while trying to stay as true to the original spirit of each story as I can.

I also want to assure readers that I try hard not to comment on or appropriate originating cultures. It is almost certainly true that the early collectors of these tales, with their then prevalent world views, have made assumptions about the originating cultures that have given us these tales. I hope that you’ll accept my mission to preserve these tales, however and wherever I find them, as just that. I have, therefore, made sure that every story has a full attribution, covering both the original collector / writer and the collection title that this version has been adapted from, as well as having notes about publishers and other relevant and, I hope, interesting source data. Wherever possible I have added a cultural or indigenous attribution as well, although for some of the tiles, the country-based theme is obvious.

This volume, Cat Tails, collects a host of stories from around the world that feature our feline friends. It seems to me that cats hold a special place in folk tales, fairy tales, myths, and legends across various cultures.

Cats are, for example, often depicted as mysterious creatures, with their nocturnal habits and solitary nature adding an air of intrigue. This mystery makes them captivating figures in storytelling.

In many cultures, cats are associated with knowledge, secrets, and the supernatural. They are sometimes depicted as guardians of hidden realms or keepers of ancient wisdom.

Cats are also known for their independence and self-reliance, which can symbolize traits such as cunning, resourcefulness, and freedom. This makes them popular characters in stories where independence and cleverness are valued.

One of the more obvious cat themes is their long association with magic and witchcraft due to their enigmatic behaviour and their historical role in hunting pests like mice and rats, which were seen as carriers of disease and associated with the occult. In many tales, they are depicted as companions to witches or possessing supernatural abilities themselves. In European folklore in particular, cats are often portrayed as familiars, magical animals that assist witches or sorcerers in their spells and rituals. This further strengthens their association with the mystical and the otherworldly.

Cats' ability to adapt to various environments and their prowess as hunters contribute to their symbolic significance in stories as symbols of survival and resilience.

And let’s not forget that cats have been revered and even worshipped in certain cultures throughout history, such as ancient Egypt, where they were associated with the goddess Bastet. This cultural significance has definitely contributed to their prominence in mythology and folklore.

Overall, the multifaceted nature of cats, from their mysterious behaviours to their historical roles, makes them rich and versatile characters in folk tales, fairy tales, myths, and legends around the world.

As for the Fireside Tales project, these titles will grow over coming years to tell lost and forgotten tales from every continent, and even then, I’ll just be scratching the surface of the world’s lore and love. That’s the great gift in storytelling. Since the first of our ancestors sat around in a cave, contemplating an ape’s place in the world, we have, as a species, told each other stories of magic and cunning and caution and love. When I began to read through tales from the Celts, tales from Indonesia, tales from Africa and the Far East, tales from everywhere, one of the things that struck me clearly was just how similar are our roots. We share characters and characteristics. The nature of these tales is so similar underneath the local camouflage. Human beings clearly share a storytelling heritage so much deeper than the world that we see superficially as always having been just as it is now.

These tales were originally told by firelight as a way of preserving histories and educating both adult and child. These tales form part of our shared heritage, witches, warts, fantastic beasts, and all. They can be dark and violent. They can be sweet and loving. They are we and we are they in so many ways. I’ve loved reading and re-reading these stories. I hope you do too.

Clive

Bath 2024

How The First Cat Was Created

This is an Irish tale

This tale has been adapted from Legends Of Saints And Sinners by Douglas Hyde. The book was published in 1914 by The Gresham Publishing Company Ltd, London, Dublin and Belfast. The legends in the collection cover a wide range of themes, including miracles, martyrdom, penance, temptation, and redemption. They explore the virtues and vices of humanity, as well as the intercession of saints and divine intervention in the lives of ordinary people.

One day, the Virgin Mary and her Son were traveling along the road. They passed a house where a woman was winnowing wheat. The Blessed Virgin went inside and asked for a handful of wheat, but the woman refused.

Go back to her, said her Son, and ask in the name of God.

Mary went back, but the woman refused again.

Go back once more, He said, and ask if you may put your hand in a pail of water, then into the heap of wheat, and take whatever sticks to your hand.

Mary did as He asked, and the woman allowed her to do so. When she came back out, Jesus said, Don't lose a single grain of that wheat, for it is very valuable.

As they continued on their way, they looked back and saw a flock of demons heading towards the house. Mary was worried they might harm the woman.

Don't worry, said Jesus, because she gave you alms, they cannot harm her.

They travelled until they reached a mill owned by a man named Martin. Jesus said to His mother, Since the mill is working, go ask if they will grind this little bit of wheat for you.

Mary went inside and asked the boy working there to grind the wheat. It's not worth my time to grind such a small amount, he said.

Martin overheard and told the boy, Do it for her; she might need it badly.

The boy ground the wheat and gave Mary all the flour from it. As they continued on their way, the mill suddenly filled with flour as white as snow. Martin realized this was a miracle and understood that it was the Son of God and His Mother who had visited.

He ran after them, crossing fields in such haste that he injured his chest on a hawthorn spike. Despite the pain, he continued until he caught up with them. When Jesus saw Martin's wound, He healed it immediately. He told Martin that he was a worthy man in God's eyes and instructed him to place a fistful of the flour under a dish until morning.

Martin did as he was told, placing the dish upside down over the flour. His servant girl, seeing this, decided to do the same with her own dish.

The next morning, Martin lifted his dish and out came a fine sow with a large litter of piglets. The girl lifted her dish, and out came a big mouse with a bunch of baby mice. Martin, realizing they were bad, threw his mitten at them, and it turned into a cat that began to kill the mice. This, according to the story, was the beginning of cats.

From that day on, Martin was known as a saint, but which Saint Martin he became is not specified.

The Fox And The Cat

This is a Russian tale

This tale has been adapted from Cossack Fairy Tales and Folk Tales by R. Nisbet Bain. The book was published in 1916 by George G. Harrap & Company, London. The Cossacks are a group of predominantly East Slavic-speaking people who historically inhabited the Pontic-Caspian steppe, known for their distinctive culture, traditions, and folklore. The book contains a selection of traditional tales and legends passed down orally among the Cossack communities. These stories offer insights into the worldview, values, and cultural practices of the Cossack people, reflecting their historical experiences, beliefs, and imagination.

In a certain forest there once lived a fox, and near to the fox lived a man who had a cat that had been a good mouser in its youth, but was now old and half blind. The man didn't want puss any longer, but not liking to kill it, took it out into the forest and lost it there.

Then the fox came up and said, Why, Mr Shaggy Matthew! How do you do! What brings you here?

Alas! said Pussy, my master loved me as long as I could bite, but now that I can bite no longer and have left off catching mice - and I used to catch them finely once - he doesn't want to kill me, but he has left me in the wood where I must perish miserably.

No, dear Pussy! said the fox. You leave it to me, and I'll help you to get your daily bread.

You are very good, dear little sister foxy! said the cat, and the fox built him a little shed with a garden round it to walk about in.

Now one day the hare came to steal the man's cabbage. Kreem-kreem-kreem! he squeaked. But the cat popped his head out of the window, and when he saw the hare, he put up his back and stuck up his tail and said, Ft-t-t-t-t-Frrrrrrr! The hare was frightened and ran away and told the bear, the wolf, and the wild boar all about it.

Never mind, said the bear, I tell you what, we'll all four give a banquet, and invite the fox and the cat, and do for the pair of them. Now, look here! I'll steal the man's mead, and you, Mr Wolf, steal his fat-pot, and you, Mr Wildboar, root up his fruit-trees, and you, Mr Bunny, go and invite the fox and the cat to dinner.

So they made everything ready as the bear had said, and the hare ran off to invite the guests. He came beneath the window and said, We invite your little ladyship Foxey-Woxey, together with Mr Shaggy Matthew, to dinner Then he ran back again.

But you should have told them to bring their spoons with them, said the bear.

Oh, what a head I've got! If I didn't quite forget! cried the hare, and back he went again, ran beneath the window and cried, Mind you bring your spoons!

Very well, said the fox.

So the cat and the fox went to the banquet, and when the cat saw the bacon, he put up his back and stuck out his tail, and cried, Mee-oo, mee-oo! with all his might.

But they thought he said, Ma-lo, ma-lo! (which means: ‘What a little!)

What! said the bear, who was hiding behind the beeches with the other beasts. We four have been getting together all that we could, and this pig-faced cat calls it too little! What a monstrous cat he must be to have such an appetite!

They were all very frightened. The bear ran up a tree, and the others hid where they could. When the cat saw the boar's bristles sticking out behind the bushes he thought it was a mouse, and put up his back and cried, Ft! ft! ft! Frrrrrrr!

Then they were more frightened than ever. And the boar went into a bush still farther off, and the wolf went behind an oak, and the bear got down from the tree, and climbed up into a bigger one, and the hare ran right away.

But the cat stayed where he was and ate the bacon, and the little fox gobbled up the honey, and they ate and ate till they couldn't eat any more, and then they both went home licking their paws.

The Cat And The Cradle

This is a Dutch tale

This tale has been adapted from Dutch Fairy Tales for Young Folks by William Elliot Griffis. The book was published in 1918 by Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., New York. The book features a selection of fairy tales and folk stories from Dutch culture, including both well-known tales and lesser-known gems. These stories often incorporate elements of magic, adventure, morality, and humour, offering readers a glimpse into the imaginative world of Dutch folklore.

In the early ages, when our far-off ancestors lived in the woods, ate acorns, slept in caves, and dressed in the skins of wild animals, they had no horses, cows or cats. Their only pets and helpers were dogs. The men and the dogs were more like each other than they are now.

However, they knew about bees. So the women gathered honey and from it they made mead. Not having any sugar, the children enjoyed tasting honey more than anything else, and it was the only sweet thing they had.

By and by, cows were brought into the country and the Dutch soil being good for grass, the cows had plenty to eat. When these animals multiplied, the people drank milk and learned to make cheese and butter. So the Dutch boys and girls grew fat and healthy.

The oxen were so strong that they could pull logs of wood or draw a plough. So, little by little, the forests were cut down and grassy meadows, full of bright coloured flowers, took their place. Houses were built and the people were rich and happy.

Yet there were still many cruel men and bad people in the land. Sometimes, too, floods came and drowned the cattle and covered the fields with sand, or salt water. In such times, food was very scarce. Thus it happened that not all the babies born could live, or every little child be fed. The baby girls especially were often left to die, because war was common and only boys, that grew into strong warriors, were wanted.

It grew to be a custom that families would hold a council and decide whether the baby should be raised or not. But if anyone should give the infant even a tiny drop of milk, or food of any kind, it was allowed to live and grow up. If no one gave it milk or honey, it died. No matter how much a mother might love her baby, she was not allowed to put milk to its lips, if the grandmother or elders forbade it. The young bride, coming into her husband's home, always had to obey his mother, for she was now as a daughter and one of the family. All lived together in one house, and the grandmother ruled all the women and girls that were under one roof.

This was the way of the world, when our ancestors were pagans, and not always as kind to little babies as our own mothers and fathers are now. Many times was the old grandmother angry, when her son had taken a wife and a girl was born. If the old woman expected a grandson, who should grow up and be a fighter, with sword and spear, and it turned out to be a girl, she was mad as fire. Often the pretty bride, brought into the house, had a hard time of it, with her husband's mother, if she did not in time have a baby boy. In those days a Herman, a War Man and German were one and the same word.

Now when the good missionaries came into Friesland, one of the first of the families to receive the gospel was one named Altfrid. With his bride, who also became a Christian, Altfrid helped the missionary to build a church. By and by, a sweet little baby was born in the family and the parents were very happy. They loved the little thing sent from God, as fathers and mothers love their children now.

But when someone went and told the pagan grandmother that the new baby was a girl instead of a boy, the old woman flew into a rage and would have gone at once to get hold of the baby and put it to death. Her lameness, however, made her move slowly, and she could not find her crutch, for the midwife, who knew the bad temper of the grandmother, had purposely hid it. The old woman was angry, because she did not want any more females in the big house, where she thought there were already too many mouths to fill. Food was hard to get, and there were not enough war men to defend the tribe. She meant to get the new baby and throw it to the wolves. The old grandmother was a pagan and still worshipped the cruel gods that loved fighting. She hated the new religion, because it taught gentleness and peace.

But the midwife, who was a neighbour, feared that the old woman was malicious and she had hidden her crutch. This she did, so that if the baby was a girl, she could save its life. The midwife was a good woman, who had been taught that the Great Creator loves little girls as well as boys.

So when the midwife heard the grandmother storm and rave, while hunting for her crutch, she ran first to the honey jar, dipped her forefinger in it and put some drops of honey on the baby's tongue. Then she passed it out the window to some women friends, who were waiting outside. She knew the law, that if a child tasted food, it must be allowed to live.

The kind women took the baby to their home and fed it carefully. A hole was drilled in the small end of a cow's horn and the warm milk, fresh from the cow, was allowed to fall, drop by drop, into the baby's mouth. In a few days the little one was able to suck its breakfast slowly out of the horn, while one of the girls held it. So the baby grew bigger every day. All the time it was carefully hidden.

The foolish old grandmother was foiled, for she could never find out where the baby girl was, which all the time was growing strong and plump. Her father secretly made her a cradle and he and the babe's mother came often to see their child. Everyone called her Honig-je', or Little Honey.

Now about this time, cats were brought into the country and the children made such pets of them that some of the cows seemed to be jealous of the attentions paid to Pussy and the kittens. These were the days when cows and people all lived under one long roof. The children learned to tell the time of day, whether it was morning, noon or night by looking into the cats' eyes. These seemed to open and shut, very much as if they had doors.

The fat pussy, which was brought into the house where Honig-je' was, seemed to be very fond of the little girl, and the two, the cat and the child, played much together. It was often said that the cat loved the baby even more than her own kittens. Everyone called the affectionate animal by the nickname of Dub-belt-je', which means Little Double; because this puss was twice as loving as most cat mothers are. When her own furry little babies were very young, she carried them from one place to another in her mouth. But this way, of holding kittens, she never tried on the baby. She seemed to know better. Indeed, Dub-belt-je' often wondered why human babies were born so naked and helpless, for at an age when her kittens could feed themselves and run about and play with their tails and with each other, Honig-je' was not yet able to crawl.

But other dangers were in store for the little girl. One day, when the men were out hunting, and the women went to the woods to gather nuts and acorns, a great flood came. The waters washed away the houses, so that everything floated into the great river, and then down towards the sea.

What had, what would, become of our baby? So thought the parents of Honig-je', when they came back to find the houses swept away and no sign of their little daughter. Dub-belt-je' and her kittens, and all the cows, were gone too.

Now it had happened that when the flood came and the house crashed down, baby was sound asleep. The cat, leaving its kittens, that were now pretty well grown up, leaped up and on