One evening, the good Pichard was returning from Haute-Chapelle, near the pond of Bain, where he had been courting his betrothed. At the foot of the cross in the square called la Croix des Haies he saw a beautiful big white cat. She miaowed tenderly, and crossed over to rub herself against his legs. From that day, every evening and at that same spot he would meet this lovesick cat. So it went on until he was married to Nanon, his fiancée.
Months passed and Pichard forgot his encounters with the white cat. Then, one night, he awoke with a start to discover he was alone in bed. His beautiful Nanon was nowhere to be seen. Pichard found this very strange. Stranger still, in the early hours of dawn, just as he was opening his eyes, his wife quietly slipped into the bed. Pichard questioned her, but though he became annoyed, threatened her and finally sulked, she did not say where she had been, except to say she was a faithful wife to him.
Though Pichard sulked and glowered, that evening he lay down beside her and all seemed normal. Suddenly, at midnight, Pichard woke to find Nanon was again gone, but the great white cat from la Croix des Haies was purring beside him in the room. Still sulking, he went back to sleep and in the morning his wife was beside him again.
Night after night the same thing happened. Pichard wondered how his wife got out since the door was firmly bolted. Fascinated, he set himself to watch. Though he fell asleep before his wife left, he managed to wake up nearer dawn and kept himself awake to wait for her return.
To his surprise, he saw a small white paw slipping through the doorway to reach the bolt. Softly Pichard rose, and struck the intruding paw with a thunderous blow of his hatchet, chopping it clean off. A horrible scream came from the other side of the door.
For eight days Nanon did not appear. Eventually she returned, her head low, her face flushed with confusion. She passed her husband, went straight to her bed without a word and wept. Pichard saw that her hand had been chopped off at the wrist.
Found at: Moggycats Cat Pages
The sacred cat of Burma is not, as some might suppose, the Burmese, but is a breed known in the west as the Birman. A charming legend accompanies the Birman cat.
Many years ago, in a temple built on the side of the mountain of Lugh, there lived in prayer the very venerable Kittah Mun Ha, the great Lama precious amongst the precious, whose golden beard had been plaited by the god Song Hio himself. There was not one minute, not one look, not one thought of his existence that was not consecrated to the adoration, the contemplation, the pious service of Tsun Kyankze, the goddess with the eyes of sapphire. She presided over the transmigration of souls, which allows a Kittah to relive the span of his animal existence in the body of a sacred animal before he takes up a body haloed in the total perfection and holiness of the great priests.
Sitting in meditation beside Mun Ha was Sinh, his beloved oracle, a cat quite white with eyes of yellow, a yellow that reflected the golden beard of his master and the golden body of the goddess whose eyes were the color of the sky . . . Sinh, the counselor, whose ears, tail, nose and paws were the color of soil, a sign of the taint and impurity in everything that touches or can touch the earth.
Now, one evening, while a malevolent moon was permitting the enemy from Siam to approach the sacred place, the great priest Mun Ha entered softly into the state of death, with his divine cat at his side and under the despairing eyes of his overwhelmed Kittahs. it was then that the miracle took place . . . the unique miracle of the immediate transmigration.
With one bound, Sinh was on the golden throne, perched on the head of his departed master. He arched himself up on this head which, for the first time, no longer contemplated the goddess. And Sinh also became spellbound before the eternal statue, and the bristling hairs on his white spine suddenly become the yellow of gold. And his golden eyes became blue, huge and profound like the eyes of the goddess.
And as he turned his head gently towards the South door, his four paws, touching the venerable skull, became a blinding white. And as his eyes stared at the Southern door, the Kittahs obeyed the expression in the eyes that were charged with hardness and with light. They threw themselves against the heavy bronze doors and against the first of the invaders.
The temple was saved from profanation and pillage. Sinh, however, had not left the throne. He did not move for seven days, but on the seventh day, steadily facing the goddess and with his eyes on her eyes, he died, hieratic and mysterious, carrying towards Tsun Kiankze the soul of Mun Ha, from then on too perfect for this earth. And when, seven days later, the priests gathered before the statue to consult among themselves on the succession to Mun Ha, all the cats of the temple came running – and all were clothed in gold and gloved in white, and the yellow of all those eyes had been changed to a deep sapphire blue. In silence they all surrounded the youngest of the Kittahs, who was designated in this way by the will of the goddess.
‘From that day, if a sacred cat should die in the temple of Lao-Tsun, it is the soul of a Kittah that takes its place for ever in the paradise of Song Hio, and the golden god.
Found at: Moggycats Cat Pages
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