A rove around Gloucestershire’s most mysterious mogs, from Dick Whittington’s mouser, to a Tom with more than nine lives in Chipping Sodbury, to today’s secretive big cats
Once upon a time there was an old man and an old woman who lived all alone with just their cat, Old Tom, for company. One night, the old man, who was the village sexton, came rushing in, all distraught, and the old woman says to him, ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘I was digging a grave for tomorrow’s funeral,’ cries the old man, ‘and what did I see but a funeral procession!’
‘Nothing strange in that,’ says his wife.
‘Nothing strange? Well, let me tell you what was strange! The procession was made up of nine black cats, just like our Old Tom, carrying a pall with a golden coronet on it and all calling out, “Meow!”’
‘Meow!’ cries Old Tom, sitting up on the old woman’s lap.
‘Just like that,’ says the old man. ‘Then the leader of those cats he turned to me and said, as clearly as I’m speaking now, “Tell Tom Tildrum that Tim Toldrum is dead.”’
‘Meow!’ cries Old Tom, and he shot out of the old woman’s lap. ‘What, Old Tim dead? Why then, I’m the King o’ the Cats!’
So saying, he shot up the chimney – and the old man and the old woman never saw Old Tom again.
This story of the King of the Cats, known up and down the country, perhaps comes from Tybalt, the Prince of Cats in the popular medieval tales of Reynard the Fox. Shakespeare makes biting reference to him in Romeo and Juliet when the Montagues taunt the Capulet character Tybalt as ‘the Prince of Cats’. Cats are very much on my mind, since Anthony and I have just acquired a new kitten, so I’ve devoted this article to Gloucestershire cat-lore.
Cats have always had a place in folklore, from the friends of monks and nuns in the Middle Ages, to witches’ familiars in the time of Shakespeare – like the cat spirit Grimalkin conjured by Macbeth’s witches. These cats, like the King of the Cats, are usually black. Black cats are considered both lucky and unlucky to this day. For this reason, cats of this colour remain the least likely to be adopted from shelters.
Here in Gloucestershire, there are several special cats. One is Dick Whittington’s cat. Richard Whittington, three times lord mayor of London, was in reality a rich man’s son from Pauntley who lived in the 14th century. The cat only appears in his legend in the 17th century, but who am I to get in the way of a good story? Dick acquired his famous mouser in London after earning a penny by shining shoes; but did the cat’s fame make it back to Gloucestershire? Gloucester Museums hold a carving, thought to be Dick and his cat, that dates from the 15th century and is said to have been found at the former Dick Whittington pub, a house once owned and possibly built by the Whittington family in the 15th century. You may remember the carving on display at what is now The Folk of Gloucester.
In Chipping Sodbury, they go one better – the town has an immortal cat. The story starts with an apothecary who had lodgings in a house on the corner of Wickwar Road and Broad Street, the broadest in England and the town’s market place. The apothecary spent most of his time making up pills and potions for his customers, but at night he was busy seeking the secret to eternal life. He was brewing up a potion that would grant immortality. At last, he succeeded in crafting this potion, but, rather foolishly as it turns out, left it to cool in a saucer on the table. His landlady had a tomcat, a lithe young beastie who was into everything and believed that all things belonged to him. He slinked into the apothecary’s room when the man was sleeping, spotted the saucer, and lapped up all the potion.
From then on, this tomcat didn’t just have nine lives; he had an infinite number of them. Some say that he’s a ghostly cat and some say that he’s flesh and blood. Sometimes, at dusk, you can still see that same cat prowling around the marketplace. As it happens, Chipping Sodbury had another famous apothecary, or rather one in training. This was Edward Jenner, of smallpox vaccine fame, who was apprentice to an apothecary called Daniel Ludlow, who practised on Horse Street; a plaque marks the location, Montague House. Did Jenner meet the immortal cat searching for another taste of that potion? Not that long ago there was a chemist again on the corner of Wickwar Road and Broad Street, but the chemist today is on the other side of the marketplace. Watch out for the cat there!
There are many more mystery cats in Gloucestershire. There’s a little white cat who talks in the tale of the snow foresters who haunt the environs of Stow (a tale we’ll tell you another time). It’s long been said that all the animals who were in the stable where Jesus was born can talk on Christmas Eve. The ox and the ass are well known in this regard, but it’s no surprise a cat, too, was keeping warm in the hay!
Then there are the many sightings of mysterious – and large – black cats around the county, such as the stocky lynx-like animal spotted near Coleford earlier this year, and a spate of sightings in January near South Cerney; not to mention the panther-sized beast that followed a teenager on May Hill back in 2010.
There are lots of theories about these big cats. If it’s true that they’re animals that were released into the wild in the 1970s when the law was changed to make it more difficult to keep exotic animals, then those cats will by now be getting into their fifties. I guess they must have been breeding... The claims are sometimes taken seriously. In 2012, a deer carcass found on National Trust land at Woodchester Park, near Stroud, was tested for the predator’s DNA. The story was all over the news, but the DNA turned out to be a fox’s. Well, that doesn’t mean the cats aren’t out there – lots of them – big, black, talking, and immortal.
ESSENTIALS
- Places to visit: Chipping Sodbury; The Folk of Gloucester; Woodchester Park; May Hill.
- Further reading: The King of the Cats and Other Feline Fairy Tales, by John Richard Stephens; Gloucestershire Folk Tales for Children, by Anthony Nanson and Kirsty Hartsiotis; Big Cats: Facing Britain’s Wild Predators, by Rick Minter.
Kirsty Hartsiotis is based in Stroud and available for hire as a storyteller and speaker. Her books include Wiltshire Folk Tales and (with Anthony Nanson) Gloucestershire Ghost Tales and Gloucestershire Folk Tales for Children. She is also the curator of decorative and fine art at a Gloucestershire museum.
