Chapter 15: Puss Geiko and Her Travels

How the cat first got into Belgium is not known, but of the puss that was first seen in Japan, the record is full and clear. There are, however, two stories, for there are two kinds, wild and tame.

Japanese house cats have no tails. These they never had, or lost them long ago; and now, most of them have hardly enough to set up a rabbit in business. Even if, in a litter of bob-tailed pussies, a long-tailed kitten is born, out comes the carving knife and off goes the caudal extension. Cats in Japan must all be in fashion, to be allowed to live in a house with human beings.

So long as the Japanese puss stays at home, licks its feet, and cleans its face with its forepaws, using these for both wash-rag and towel, the creature is considered respectable, and there is no trouble in either the cat or the human family.

There was a certain puss named Geiko (gay-ko), which is the Kyoto pronunciation of Geisha (gay-shah); because she was so accomplished and so pretty, and made so much music at night. Except those Japanese cats that, long ago, traveled to the Isle of Man, she was the first modern member of the family that wished to reside abroad. Then—according to what her mother said, who told the story of her adventures in Belgium—her troubles began.

Now this is the way it came to pass.

It happened that a grandmother puss, named Guitar, because she also was so musical, that lived in Persimmon Street, in Kyoto, was inquired of, by an inquisitive kitten, as to when, and how, and why, cats first came to Japan. Her mistress, a little girl, named Taka (tah-kah), or Falcon, who went every day to school, had come home and told her that, once upon a time, Japan, being an island and the country made up of islands, there were no tame cats, but only wild ones. Now, would Grandma Guitar tell all about her ancestors, and about her Aunt Geiko, who had gone to Europe?

So that evening, after the six kittens had had their supper, Grandma gathered them all around her, and told how pet cats were first brought from China, into Japan, and to the Emperor’s court, about A.D. 1000. They were at first very great curiosities. Yet when they multiplied, they were even then kept in the house, and tied up at night. Some people thought cats were dangerous brutes.

“Why, grandma, dear?” asked one of the kittens. “Did they eat up all the birds?”

“No, I am inclined to think,” said Grandma, “that they were kept in at nights, for fear that they might be stolen, for they were still considered very valuable animals.”

Here Grandma Guitar paused, that is, she stopped in her story, long enough to wipe her mouth and face, with what serves pussies instead of a towel, napkin or handkerchief—her two fore feet.

Then continuing, she called on Kichibei (kee-chee-bay), a Tom, that lived next door. He was the lawyer among the cats of Persimmon Street, in which they lived. She requested him to read from the Government Book on Cat Law (Neko no Soshi). He made his bow, cocked his eye properly, and read the following regulation, of the year 1602.