As the present work is not by any means intended to partake of the scientific, but is written solely with the view of gaining for the domestic cat her proper position in society, it will, I think, serve my purpose better to describe the classification of cats generally adopted at pussy-shows, instead of dividing them, as otherwise they ought to be, into the different species and breeds. Had I adopted the latter method, I should have felt bound to give a minute description of the cats of various countries and climates, such as those peculiar to India, China, Abyssinia, Russia, and Persia, as well as those inhabiting our own land.
The classification adopted at the Crystal Palace Show, and also at Birmingham, is—with one exception, to be mentioned further on—as good as any we can at present have. The cats are divided into long-haired and short-haired of both sexes, the latter being mostly English, the former including the various species of Angora or Persian.
Class I. And first on the list comes Tortoiseshell Tom.
For many a long year, this cat was considered a myth and an impossibility; and this belief seemed to receive confirmation, when, at the first Crystal Palace Show, no Tortoiseshell Tom put in an appearance. He was all there, however, at the second; and people scratched their heads, and stared as they looked at him and said, “Well, then, to be sure, who would have thought it!”
He isn’t a beauty by any means. I have seen some seals not unlike him about the head; and he looks as though he would take off his gloves on very slight provocation. This cat belongs to Mr. L. Smith, Clerkenwell, London; but I have no doubt there are many other Tortoiseshell Toms in the world. A friend of mine was telling me last week, that he had had one, but that it only lived for three months.
I myself know of one other; I sent a humble but enthusiastic friend of mine to treat for its purchase, but in vain—they would not part with the cat, although they have not the slightest notion of its value.
“By George, Doctor,” says my humble but enthusiastic friend, “if they won’t sell him I’ll steal him.”
“For shame, Fred,” say I. And I have suggested “cutting out”[9] as a more honourable expedient.
On the whole, nature seems to abhor a Tortoiseshell Tom as it does a vacuum, or a chicken with two heads.
Tortoiseshell cats are, as a rule, neither very large, nor very prepossessing. They have a sinister look about them, as though they would as soon bite you as not. I question too if they exhibit the same affection as other species. They are, however, excellent hunters, and brave to a fault. They will often fight with, and defeat, cats double their own weight and size.