Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1891-08-15

This Is Not the "Cat Home,' but
Great Field for Its Patroness.


Great Field for Its Patroness.
Old Washington Market at West and
Vesey streets, New York, contains more
cats than any other building in the city.
During the day cat is hard animal to
find in the market, except one pet tabby
belonging to butcher, and it sits on the
block with an air of pride, paying little
or no attention to the scores of its rela-
tives that are hidden among the big
beams and pipes under the roof.
AS soon as the butcher closes his stall
this tabby curls himself up under the
block or in a soft cushion on the desk,
and promptly goes to sleep. Maybe he
will awake once in a while to chase a
stray rat into its hole, but that is all he
ever does.
When the last stall is closed NEW,
long drawn out and hungry, is heard. II
is followed by other calls equally hungry
and hollow, and down the cats troop.
The agile ones jump from beam to beam,
and from stall to stall, until the floor is
reached. The timld ones come down
more cautiously. In five minutes the
lower part of the market is alive. To a
reporter who visited the market at mid
night recently the sight was startling.
There were cats on the floor, cats on the
blocks, cats on the fish stands, cats on
the desks, and, in fact, cats everywhere.
There were white cats, black cats, tiger
cats, yellow cats, brown cats, and blue
proud cats, lame CATS fighting cats, peace
full cats, runaway cats, sad cats, lively
cats, sick cats, big cats, little cats, and
kittens. If there was one there were 800.
and to cat artist the place would have
been paradise. Some Of the cats
howled simply because they had nothing
else to do. Some were hungry and sour
ried around among the refuse boxes for
choice scraps; some were quiet and con-
tent to sit in little groups and purr softly
to one another, and others looked for
fight and found plenty of it.
During one Of these periods of excite
ment the visitor, accompanied by the
watchman, followed the noise and ar
rived on the scene just in time to see a
big black cat throw his opponent, a
yellow tom, on the floor and bury his
teeth in his throat Grouped about the
fighters were five other cats that made
up for their inactivity by bowling. Dur
ing the fight not one of the cats made a
move and each watched the contestants
closely.
Sullivan is at his work again." said
the watchman. "There'Il be dead cat
in a minute"
He was right. The watchman picked
up the body of the cat and said admir-.
ingly:
sullivan, you're dandy, but you
cats than yer worth.
The black cat did not bulge an inch
until the watchman had thrown the
victim into barrel at the door. Then
he smoothed down his fur, and when
last seen was in pursuit of big white
cat that had stolen bone from him.
The only other cat that has name and
a reputation in the market is "Murley,"
a huge tiger, with hang dog, sneak
thief expression about his face. He
fights only with small cats and kittens,
and these he kills whenever he can.
Sullivan has often chased him, but
Murley is an expert climber and manages
to get away among the rafters. He is
held in great contempt by all the market
men, who spend many leisure moments
during the day throwing bones and
potatoes at him as he sleeps away in his
favorite nook. One day big potato
struck him and knocked him off his
perch 30 feet from the floor. He fell
squarely on his feet, after turning three
somersaults, and ran away as if nothing
had happened.
Allnight long the cats reigned supreme,
and at the first break of day they
clambered up to their nests and hiding
places. The hungry had fed themselves,
the fighters had been fought. and the sad
ones had told their stories to sympathetic
listeners.
Ten minutes later, when the early
purchasers began to troop in the market,
not cat was to be seen except the slick
domestic tabby on the block just waking
up Recorder.