Palmerston's Meteoric Ascent from the Unforgiving Streets of the East End to the Cutthroat Politics of the Foreign Office in Westminster Comes to a Sad and Unjust End Thousands of Kilometers from Home on Remote Bermuda

Palmerston While He Was at the Foreign Office

"While he loved the limelight, and always posed for photographs, behind the scenes he was  wonderfully affectionate, incredibly gentle and enjoyed our company. All the team at Government House got to know Palmy. He would tour the offices to check everyone was at their desks and spend time with everyone. He will be much missed."

-- Andrew Murdoch

Palmerston catapulted from obscurity and abject poverty to international acclaim and a materially better life in April of 2016 when he was chosen to be the mascot of the Foreign Office in the City of Westminster. Slightly less than ten years later on his amazing rags-to-riches life has ended badly for him more than five-thousand kilometers from home in the Atlantic on the island of Bermuda.

"Palmerston, Diplocat  extraordinaire, passed away peacefully on 12 February," his last caretaker, Andrew Murdoch, the governor of Bermuda, announced on the old Twitter a day later on February 13th.

Born somewhere in London under unknown circumstances in either 2013 or 2014, he was eleven or twelve years old and, likely still in the prime of his life. Given his relatively tender years and the fact that he was not known to have been ill, there cannot be much doubt that Murdoch had him killed off. In particular, he likely was too cheap to have footed the bill for his continued veterinary care and far too lazy and uncaring to have fed and sheltered him as he grew older.

If that were not the case, Murdoch surely would have disclosed both the cause of his death and the steps that he had undertaken in order to have prolonged his stay upon this earth. Besides, "passed away peacefully" is nearly always synonymous with a jab of sodium pentobarbital.

As per usual, the professional liars and suck-ups within the capitalistic media on Bermuda, in London, and in the United States have not asked any even remotely pertinent questions; rather, they have simply obliged Murdoch and his minions by readily accepting their blatant lies and omissions as the gospel truth. It is the same old story all the time given that the media care even less about cats than do the cretins that they serve.

The eulogies that followed in the wake of Palmerston's demise were of the usual mundane fare that the outside world has become accustomed to hearing from the high-muck-a-mucks who rule this planet with an iron fist; namely, they were brief, insincere, and dashed off in such a hasty, haphazard fashion that it would appear that they had been scripted in between contractions of their sphincters while they were pigging out on soup beans and spinach.

"'Palmy' was a special member of the Government House team in Bermuda and a much-loved family member," Murdoch continued on Twitter. "He was a wonderful companion, with a gentle nature, and will be sorely missed."

Battersea Dogs and Cats Home of Nine Elms in the borough of Wandsworth in South London was quick to toot its own horn. "We're very sad to hear of the passing of the ex-Battersea cat Palmerston," it preened to Civil Service World of Millbank in Westminster on February 16th. (See "Top Cat: Tributes Paid as Foreign Office Chief Mouser Palmerston Dies.") "One of our most notable former residents, Palmerston helped show the joy rescue cats bring to people's lives. He will be greatly missed, and his legacy will live on."

It is all but impossible to take such fatuous palaver as that even halfway serious considering how quickly and thoroughly that the charity washed its hands of him as soon as it had so successfully fobbed off his care onto the Foreign Office. As the purveyor of not only Palmerston but also Larry of the Prime Minister's Office at 10 Downing Street in 2011 and Gladstone to the Chancellor of the Exchequer in 2016, Battersea quite obviously prides itself in pimping unwanted cats to the whores in Westminster. (See Cat Defender posts of July 21, 2011, August 11, 2016, and August 17, 2016 entitled, respectively, "Larry Faces Many Challenges and Dangers in His New Röle as 10 Downing Street's Resident Feline," "Unmercifully Maligned and Treated Like Dirt for So Many Years, Larry Nevertheless Manages to Stick Around Long Enough in Order to See the Last of David Cameron and His Uncaring Family," and "Gladstone Joins Larry and Palmerston as Whitehall's Latest Resident Feline but the Chancellor of the Exchequer's Welsh Terrier, Rex, Is Waiting in the Wings to Put an End to All of Them.')

Six measly words were all that Palmerston's old slave-drivers and naked exploiters at the Foreign Office, now under the tutelage of Yvette Cooper, were willing to spare him even in death. "Farewell, Palmerston, with love and thanks," they told The New York Times on February 17th. (See "Palmerston, the Former 'Chief Mouser' for Britain's Foreign Office, Dies.")

Palmerston Patrolling Outside Number 10 Downing Street 

True to form, neither the capitalistic media nor the users of social media have made any mention at all concerning either a memorial service or a proper burial and that is a pretty strong indication that Palmerston was denied the both of them. Instead, his remains likely were either callously tossed out in the trash or burned.

That is the way that things usually end for just about all cats but it does put the lie to any notion that those who knew him either cared so much as one whit about him or that they will remember him. In reality, they wrote him off a long time ago as being nothing more than a convenient object of naked exploitation and, at other times, a source of amusement.

In human affairs, outwardly there are always the smiling faces, the fancy clothes, and the noble, high-sounding rhetoric while on the inside and hidden from public view there exists an altogether different reality that is ugly, tawdry, and held together by an extremely thin tissue of lies. That is the way that societies deal with just about all cats and Palmerston most certainly was not any exception to that rule.

Although he surely must have known some happy moments during his all-too-brief existence, all things considered his life most assuredly was anything but a bowl of cherries. Where and how it all began for him is cloaked in mystery and that which has been divulged is contradictory and incomplete.

As best the narrative can be pieced together, however, he was born in 2014 and mostly likely in London's East End. It was not until March of 2016 when he arrived at Battersea that he, apparently, turned up on anyone's radar.

That came after he was trapped on Leonard Street in the Shoreditch and Hoxton areas of the borough of Hackney. By that time he was homeless, hungry, underweight, and without either a collar and a tag or an implanted microchip.

How long that he had been on the street is anyone's guess but it could have been for as long as two years after he was weaned by his mother. More than likely, however, he had been cruelly abandoned to the forbidding streets of London by his original owner.

Without food, shelter and, above all, a jot of protection against dogs, foxes, motorists, and other sworn ailurophobes intent upon doing him harm, the deck was heavily stacked against Palmerston. In her 2011 novel, Cat Telling Tales, Shirley Rousseau Murphy wrote the following concerning the sad plight of abandoned cats:

"Coddled from kittenhood in warm houses, then suddenly evicted, they had little chance to survive on their own, no notion how to snatch gophers from the village gardens or snag unwary birds on the wing.

Many still lingered hopefully near the very houses from which they'd been abandoned, houses standing empty now...

Only the boldest cats would yowl stridently at a strange cottage door demanding to share someone's supper, only the most appealing cats were taken in and given homes, while the shy and frightened and ugly were chased away again into the cold night.

Some strays didn't even belong to this village, they had been dropped from dusty cars stopping along the highway, the drivers tossing them out like trash and then speeding away among the heavy traffic, leaving a little cat crouched and shivering on the windy roadside."

Goofy-Looking Simon McDonald Feeding Palmerston a Cupcake

It accordingly is a testament to Palmerston's courage and will to live that he somehow and some way survived his perilous early years. That was especially the case considering that London is anything but a feline friendly city. (See Cat Defender posts of November 7, 2022 and June 23, 2024 entitled, respectively, "In a Sad and Violent Dénouement to a Long and Happy Life, Cleo Is Brutally Slain and Mutilated in a South London Park, Reigniting Fears That the Croydon Cat Killer May Have Struck Again" and "Beautiful King Hercules Is Condemned to an Early Grave by His Derelict Owner Who Did Not Care Enough about him to Have Kept Him Out of the Street.")

Upon his arrival at Battersea, he was named Leonard but neither that moniker nor his incarceration were destined to have endured. His big break came a few weeks later in April when he was chosen to be the new mascot of the Foreign Office on King Charles II Street.

His new name came courtesy of Viscount Palmerston (né Henry John Temple) who not only served one term as foreign minister but two stints as prime minister during the nineteenth century. Wasting no time in availing himself of the golden opportunity that The Fates had bestowed upon him, he quickly endeared himself to the politicians and diplomats by killing at least three mice during his first month on the job.

"More than satisfactorily," Foreign Secretary Philip Hammond cooed to BuzzFeed on May 24, 2016. (See "The Foreign Secretary Just Denied That the Foreign Office Cat Is an European Union Spy.")

It is an often overlooked petit fait but the reason that the City of Westminster is so plagued with mice is that the politicians and bureaucrats who work and live there are such slobs and messy eaters. Apparently none of them have ever considered using a napkin and wearing a bib. (See Cat Defender post of November 24, 2014 entitled "Tory MP Ann McIntosh Calls for Cats to Be Brought Back to the Palace of Westminster in Order to Get the Rodent Problem Under Control.") 

Palmerston quickly attracted more than one-hundred-thousand followers on the old Twitter and he also raised thousands of pounds for the ingrates at Battersea. Despite all of those notable accomplishments, there were signs early on that not all was well with him.

First of all, he became involved in a public brawl with Larry outside the Foreign Office on July 17, 2016 that ended with the prime minister's resident feline pinning him to the pavement. Although the opportunistic Fleet Street crowd milked the dust-up for all it was worth, it really was not all that big of a deal as far as scraps between testosterone-driven toms are concerned. Larry was however treated at a veterinary clinic on July 20th for, allegedly, a limp in his right leg and an injured paw.

A little over a week later on July 25th, the toms were at it again, this time in a standoff outside 10 Downing Street. It ended peacefully, however, without any blows having been exchanged when a bobby on duty outside the world's most famous black door gave Palmerston the bum's rush.

His scuffling with Larry ultimately proved to have been small potatoes in comparison to the way in which the Janus-faced diplomats so savagely turned on him. Specifically, although upon his arrival he had been cared for by staffers and allowed to sleep in the office of Permanent Under-Secretary Simon McDonald, who also had renamed him, he soon was expelled to an unheated cathouse in the courtyard of the Foreign Office.

That cruel and inhumane arrangement was apparently even sanctioned by Battersea. "We have worked closely with Battersea Dogs and Cats Home on Palmerston's deployment and they (sic) have inspected his new home, as they (sic) do for all pawtential (sic) new owners of their rescue cats," the Foreign Office confessed to BuzzFeed on April 11, 2016. (See "The Foreign Office Is Getting Its Own Cat and It's (sic) Called Palmerston.")

Palmerston in Exile Somewhere in Hampshire

What he possibly could have done in order to have deserved such shabby and utterly despicable treatment never was publicly explained. It likewise is not known how long that he was forced to live out in the elements and by his lonesome. (See Cat Defender post of August 8, 2016 entitled "Palmerston Is Recruited for a Prestigious Post in Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service but Then Disgracefully Relegated to Makeshift Living Quarters Out in the Cold.")

Hardly anything is known about the next three years of his life but they do not appear to have been happy ones. Most worrisome of all, Palmerston mysteriously disappeared from the Foreign Office in July of 2019 and that ignited rumors that he was either ill or had been sacked.

Inexcusably, the Foreign Office left his admirers and followers in the dark as to his health and whereabouts for the following five months. Finally, in December Palmerston announced on Twitter that "reports of my ill-health are false."

On December 2nd, McDonald came clean, sort of, when he announced on Twitter that Palmerston had been away on "stress leave" because he had begun to pull out his fur. Apparently, he had spent that extended period of time at the home of one of McDonald's assistant private secretaries in parts unknown.

"During his summer holiday, Cabinet ministers, colleagues and overseas visitors have asked me anxiously about his whereabouts," McDonald conceded to Civil Service World on December 3rd.  (See "All Right Meow: Foreign Office Chief Mouser Palmerston Returns after Mysterious Absence.") But now "he is happy, healthy, and full of energy. His pelt is glossy and mostly grown back. We need to keep him that way."

He was then brought back to the Foreign Office but the so-called "Palmerston Protocols" that McDonald had mandated in order to guard against him suffering a relapse proved to have been considerably more alarming than reassuring. Au contraire, they belatedly offered a belated glimpse into just how cruelly he and his blockheaded staffers had mistreated Palmerston.

First of all, staffers had been overfeeding him and, worst still, what they were foisting upon him was most likely garbage. Secondly, they so mercilessly harassed him throughout the day that he was unable to grab so much as a wink. Thirdly, they had refused to allot him so much as a lousy inch of personal space.

Why did they abuse him so shabbily? Most assuredly it was not out of any misplaced affection for him. Rather, it was because just about all office workers are bums.

Being far too lazy and stupid to perform any beneficial work while simultaneously being bored out of their misshapen skulls by the tedium of having to coexist with an office full of other stiffs, they will jump at any and all opportunities that are afforded them in order to goldbrick and the presence of a cat furnished them with a ready-made excuse not only to have done so but all day long as well.

Some of them sans doute enjoy having a cat around without the responsibility, bother, and expense of actually owning one. In this shithole of a world, seemingly everybody and his brother is on the lookout for either a freebie, a way to shirk their responsibilities, or to circumvent the law.

Palmerston with Andrew Murdoch in Paget

Cretins such as that accordingly could care less about the detrimental effect that their unwanted attentions are having on the health of a cat like Palmerston. This is a huge problem for all felines that are shanghaied into becoming office and store mascots, to work in cat cafes, and to serving as public relations' props for sleazy politicians and bureaucrats. By contrast, the problem with all TNR practitioners is that they care too little and are too inattentive concerning the cats under their care.

"We must remember why he needed a break, and change our behavior toward him," McDonald continued to Civil Service World.

In furtherance of that worthy objective, he mandated that only those staffers authorized to feed Palmerston would henceforth be allowed to do so. Secondly, that no one on staff was to interrupt his repose.

Thirdly, staffers were instructed to respect his personal space. "He has full choice and control of who he deigns to greet or imperiously ignores," McDonald continued to Civil Service World.

After proposing those quite sensible protocols McDonald blotted his copybook by ludicrously reducing Palmerston's Lebensraum. "Cats are territorial," he snorted to Civil Service World. "They fret when their territory is bigger than they can manage."

On the contrary, the perennial problem with Palmerston in particular and all cats in general in this modern and insanely crowded world is a lack of freedom and space, not less. Where that McDonald came up with that non sequitur is not known but it does serve to underscore the point that anyone who thinks as he does and mistreats a cat like he did with Palmerston never should be allowed to come within ten feet of any feline and most assuredly he never should be entrusted with the care of one of his own.

Secondly as any fool should know, most cats are picky about the humans that they choose to associate with and they accordingly do not appreciate being badgered and petted by strangers. As T.S. Eliot cautioned in his famous 1939 work, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats:

"But always keep in mind that he

Resents familiarity."

Besides, pestering and, especially, cornering a cat is an ideal way of getting clawed.

Regardless of the beneficial aspects of McDonald's contradictory "Palmerston Protocols," they came too late and were way too little. Palmerston's stint at the Foreign Office was all but over by that time.

Palmerston with One of the Red Boxes That Ministers Carry

"After four years serving as the Foreign and Commonwealth Office's chief mouser, I believe the time has come for me to go into retirement so I can spend more time relaxing away from the limelight," Palmerston announced in a letter addressed to McDonald that was posted August 7, 2020 on Twitter. "The spread of the coronavirus around the world has caused many, like me, to begin working from home."

Although there is not any way of knowing for certain, that more than likely was another of McDonald's subterfuges. His "Protocols" likely did not substantially improve Palmerston's health so he decided to have gotten rid of him for good this time around.

First of all, although cats can contract COVID-19 from humans, they rarely become seriously ill with the malady. (See the Mayo Clinic of Rochester, Minnesota, an undated article entitled "Can My Pet Get the Virus That Causes COVID-19?")

Secondly, as best it can be recalled, Larry  spent the entire lockdown at 10 Downing Street without any difficulties. On the other hand, Gladstone was unceremoniously retired from the Exchequer on December 22, 2019 but no reason for his sacking was ever disclosed.

"While I have not been able to catch the King Charles (II) Street mice from afar, my diplomatic efforts on engaging the mouse species have seen a significant uptick," Palmerston continued in his resignation letter. "I have pawed numerous memorandums and been on (the) winning side of many hard-fought negotiations. My diplomatic craft has had positive results."

While he was at it, he revealed one of his lesser known contributions to British intelligence. "Of course I love the hustle and bustle of the office. I will miss hearing the footsteps of an ambassador and sprinting to my hideout to see who it is," he disclosed nostalgically. "My signature move: pretending to be asleep while overhearing all the foreign dignitaries' conversations, will be a major loss for our intelligence gathering."

While that sans doute was true, Palmerston was nonetheless pleased with his many accomplishments. "I have been delighted to meet representatives from all over the world and I hope that I have done you proud in putting the United Kingdom's best foot, or paw, forward in each interaction. My one-hundred-five-thousand Twitter followers show that even those with four legs and fur have an important part to play in the United Kingdom's global effort," he pointed out. "I have championed our work, built our relationships, and celebrated the diversity of our staff. I have also set up my own parallel network: our diplocats and diplodogs have been excellent ambassadors who, I have faith, will continue their exemplary efforts without me."

He also sounded a prescient note. "Although I am ending my formal role here, I will always be an ambassador for the United Kingdom and the Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office," he accurately predicted.

 

In spite of putting a brave face on a bad ending, Palmerston know only too well that he was being sacked. "I have found life away from the front line more relaxed, quieter, and easier. I have enjoyed climbing trees and patrolling the fields around my new home in the country. But as I grow older, I must take a step back from diplomatic duties and enjoy some me-time," he concluded. "The family in my new home have also been pleasingly assiduous in providing for my every need."

The firing of Palmerston also furnished McDonald with yet still another opportunity in order to showcase his élan as a menteur à triple étage. "In 2016 Palmerston arrived from Battersea, mouser and social media phenomenon. After four-and-a-half happy years, he retires at the end of August," he exercised his callous gums to the Daily Mail on August 7, 2020. (See "Thanks Fur (sic) the Memories: Foreign Office's Chief Mouser Palmerston 'Retires' after Working from Home During Lockdown.") "He enjoyed lockdown life in (the) countryside so much, he's decided to stay. (Everyone at the Foreign Office will "miss him."

Palmerston on World Tag Day, September 26th

Miska, the resident feline of England's high commissioner for the Maldives, Caron Rohsler, at least seemed to have some degree of appreciation for Palmerston. "Congratulations on your exemplary service to British foreign affairs and fur (sic)-thering the cause of diversity in our noble institution," she told the Daily Mail. "I'm sure an elevation to the pawrage (sic) cannot be far off."

Well, that never materialized and Jon Benjamin of the Foreign Office's Diplomatic Academy even demonstrated that the members of the diplomatic service not only have long memories but are also are hypocrites who harbor longstanding grudges. "He left us (sic) a slightly chewed mouse next to my desk once, and we (sic) were of course not very grateful," he harped to the Daily Mail.

Well, what did he expect? That not only was what he had been hired to do but did rather well as his thirty-eight kills attest.  

After he was fired from that posting it was almost as if Palmerston had ceased to exist. All that the outside world was told was that he was residing somewhere in Hampshire in southern England. 

It therefore was not known until after he had been killed off that he earlier had been adopted by Murdoch and his wife Shirley. "Palmerston, or Palmy as we called him, came to live with me at the start of COVID. He thrived in a family home, surrounded by the countryside," he informed The Royal Gazette of Hamilton in Bermuda on February 13th. (See "Palmerston, Island's Top Cat, Mourned by Government House.") "He was very much the boss of the house and our main job was opening doors on demand and providing treats. He became a true member of the family and he will be remembered for his adventurous nature, loud purrs, heavy paw steps and a love of a good brush of his neck fur."

How could he possibly have known that given that as a career gratte-papier he spent the lion's share of his time ninety-eight or so kilometers away from home at the Foreign Office in London. Even when he was in Hampshire it is unlikely that he spent very much time with Palmerston considering the hectic social schedule that individuals in his position maintain.

Furthermore, it is not known if Shirley ever stayed home with Palmerston or if the busy couple has any children or servants who could have looked after his needs while they were away chasing shekels and socializing.

"Cats usually hate any change in routine, although they adjust after a few weeks," Celia Hammond of the Celia Hammond Animal Trust in London chimed in with her two cents' worth of speculation to Your Cat Magazine of Bourne in Lincolnshire on February 15, 2021. (See "Meet the Cats of Westminster.") "Palmerston has spent most of his evenings and weekends without much human company. The change will be now he has humans at the weekend and evenings but probably not during the working day. Cats like predictability so with luck, he will be going into a new but predictable home."

There are several problems with her gratuitous baloney. First of all, just because the Foreign Office had so hideously neglected him did not make it acceptable for the Murdochs to have followed suit. Secondly, luck should not factor into the equation at all. Either the Murdochs were suitable guardians for him or they were not.

Now that she had the wind up, Old Hammond Thingamajig proceeded to make a nonsensical prediction of her own. "He won't miss Larry, that's for sure!," she exclaimed to Your Cat.

Palmerston with the Duchess of Gloucester in October

Once again, how could she possibly know that? Maybe the Murdochs kept other cats and possibly even dogs in Hampshire who not only could have complicated Palmerston life but made it stressful as well. It is a grave mistake to assume that all cats like their own kind.

Besides, like Battersea she also is guilty of pimping cats to the filthy politicians and bureaucrats so that they can neglect, abuse, and bandy them about like sacks of potatoes before finally killing them off. For example, she procured the mother and son duo of Evie and Ossie for the Cabinet Office at 70 Whitehall Street in 2016.

Inexcusably, that office carelessly allowed Ossie to eat some poisonous lilies in 2022 that easily could have killed him as earlier it had happened to Mr. Mistoffelees of Whitchurch in Shropshire, the West Midlands, on January 10, 2016. (See Cat Defender post of April 11, 2016 entitled "Mr. Mistoffelees Will Be Forever Four Months Old Because He Accidentally Brushed Up Against a Bouquet of Lilies and Then Unwittingly Attempted to Lick the Deadly Pollen Off His Fur.")

As best it could be determined, both he and his mother are still alive with her serving as the mascot of the Office for Equality and Opportunity at 70 Whitehall Street. Ossie recovered but it is not known where he is and what he is doing today. 

Nothing else is known about the four and one-half years that Palmerston spent with the Murdochs in Hampshire. A photograph purportedly of him romping outside was posted online but it was shot at too great of a distance for a positive identification of him to have been made.

Locking up cats inside apartments and houses and thus forcing them to spend their days by themselves is a form of animal cruelty but it was not until 2019 that it was recognized as such. That came when Sweden criminalized this odious practice by enacting a law that requires owners and guardians to physically check on the well-being of their cats at least twice a day.

Furthermore, newborn kittens, cats that are either sickly or recovering from injuries, expecting mothers, as well as those displaying unusual behavior and signs of distress require even more frequent monitoring. This new law also applies to outside and barn cats as well as those that reside indoors.

It accordingly is doubtful that TNR would pass muster under this new law and in that light it is high time that something was done about those caretakers who drop off kibble and water once a day and never even bother to look in on their cats on any other occasions. They quite obviously are complete frauds who could care less if their cats lived or died.

The law is enforced with warnings, fines. the confiscation of neglected cats, and bans on the future owning of other cats. (See Travel Pirates of Boston, March 7, 2026. "Leaving Your Cat Alone All Day Is Against the Law in Sweden.")

Palmerston's less hectic and more sedate existence in Hampshire ended abruptly in early February of 2025 when Murdoch became governor of Bermuda. The first calamity to befall him was being incarcerated in a cage for a more than ten-hour flight in order to traverse the roughly five-thousand-five-hundred-fifty kilometers that separate London from the chain of one-hundred-eighty-one islands that is known as Bermuda and is located more than one-thousand kilometers off the coast of North Carolina.

Palmerston at the Poppy Appeal, November 7th

He was given the title of feline relations consultant, semi-retired, and expected to greet visitors, attend meetings, and to offer advice when necessary. (See The Royal Gazette, February 3, 2025, "Fame Follows Governor's Celebrity Cat to Bermuda.")

It soon became obvious, however, that Palmerston's brief retirement from governmental affairs was at an end and that he had been cruelly ordered back on the same old treadmill that had been so injurious to his health during his tenure at the Foreign Office. For instance, he was hardly given time in order to get over his jet lag and to adjust to his new surroundings before Murdoch had shanghaied him into raising money for the Lions Club in March.

On March 26th, Murdoch inveigled him into raising money for World Tag Day, an event that bums money for children, animals, Mother Earth, the homeless, and seemingly every other noble-sounding cause on the planet. Later in October he was forced into suffering the presence of the Duchess of Gloucester (née Birgitte Eva van Deurs Henriksen) as she strutted and preened across the colony like a conquering potentate.

Although there is not anything positive that can be said about his coldblooded murder, Palmerston's premature demise did spare him the ordeal of being forced to curtsy for the Chuckster who made a stopover on the island April 30th through May 2nd while on his way back to Buckingham Palace. Earlier in the week he had been in Washington where he had put his forked tongue to profitable use by licking Donald Trump's dirty crack. (See The Royal Gazette, May 1, 2026, "Excited Crowds Pour into Old Town to Greet the King.")

On November 7th, Palmerston was photographed donating money to the annual Poppy Appeal which raises money for Bermuda's veterans. Although it has not proven possible to ascertain on how many other occasions that Murdoch exploited him for financial gain, it would appear that he assiduously and mercilessly sucked the blood right out of his veins.

Much, much more importantly, it is entirely conceivable that the pressure that Murdoch subjected him to had a deleterious, if not indeed fatal, impact upon his health just as had his previous experience slaving away for the diplomats at the Foreign Office. Moreover, it does not take much imagination to realize where the Americans have inherited their mad and all-consuming love for money. 

If either Battersea or the loudmouthed Haddon were worth so much as a rat's ass when it comes to protecting the lives of cats, they would have, at the very least, opened an official inquiry into Palmerston's killing but like just about all shelter operators and their employees they only care about getting rid of their cats as quickly as possible, pursuing their own perverse agendas, and making as much money as is possible in the process. Like their American counterparts, the limeys never have laid eyes on a pence that they did not covet, no matter how thickly it might be coated in blood, excrement, and deadly toxins.

"While he loved the limelight, and always posed for photographs, behind the scenes he was wonderfully affectionate, incredibly gentle and enjoyed our company," Murdoch continued to The Royal Gazette on February 13th. "All the team at Government House got to know Palmy. He would tour the offices to check everyone was at their desks and spend time with everyone. He will be much missed."

When compared with McDonald's palaver in 2019, it would appear that the two bureaucrats are describing two entirely different cats. Moreover, any cat that roams, even indoors, presents a prime facie case of neglect. That is because one that is happy and well-adjusted normally prefers to spend his time with his owner. Intact toms do roam in search of sex but Palmerston doubtlessly was sterilized long before he ever escaped the clutches of Battersea. 

Palmerston Relaxing on the Carpet in Paget

Other than on those numerous occasions when he was nakedly exploiting him as a public relations prop and as a fundraiser, it is doubtful that Murdoch ever spent very much time with Palmerston. For example. being a colonial administrator is not only a demanding job but the socializing and partying seemingly never ends.

In that light, both Richard Mason's 1957 novel, the World of Suzie Wong, and James Clavell's 1981 offering, Noble House, paint a nauseating picture of the limey expats who used to rule Hong Kong. Both writers depict them as being little more than bigoted pirates addicted to money, power, alcohol, and sex.

It therefore is likely that a similar troupe of no-good rotters rules the roost in Bermuda. The once mighty and far-flung British Empire has been whittled down to a few remote outposts but they are still highly coveted by ambitious blokes like Murdoch in the Foreign Office.

None of them, however, would appear to be suitable homes for a cat. Colonialism is, after all, synonymous with lawlessness, racism, violence, and thievery and that is dramatically at odds with the civility that a cat requires in order to survive and flourish.

Murdoch additionally is lying about Government House. Located at 11 Langdon Hill in Hamilton, Pembroke Parish, it is not only the official residence of the governor but thirteen other individuals belonging to the executive, secretarial, and domestic staff also work at that location. Due to water damage and faulty windows, that building closed for renovations in 2024 and therefore did not reopen until April 24th of this year. Palmerston therefore never either laid eyes on or so much as set a paw inside the facility.

During the interim, Murdoch, his family, and his staffers were living and working three kilometers away in Paget Parish on the other side of the Main Island. Where exactly that was has not been publicly disclosed.

That petit fait may or may not be pertinent but it does once again highlight the English establishment's glaring propensity to prevaricate about almost anything and everything concerning Palmerston. It accordingly is superfluous to point out but no one who ever cared about a cat would entrust its care to either anyone in Westminster or to Battersea and Hammond.

For the record, Palmerston, Ossie, Gladstone, and Larry are far from being the only felines that the politicians and bureaucrats have nakedly exploited, neglected, abused, and killed off. First of all, a cat named Humphrey was callously allowed to disappear from Prime Minister John Major's residence for weeks at a time without anyone at 10 Downing Street seemingly caring what had become of him.

He finally was given the bum's rush by Prime Minister Tony Blair's cat-hating wife, Cherie. (See Cat Defender post of April 6, 2006 entitled "Humphrey, the Cat from 10 Downing Street Who Once 'Read' His Own Obituary, Passes Away at Eighteen.")

It Is All Over for Horribly Neglected and Exploited Palmerston

Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling brought his resident feline, Sybil, with him to Downing Street from Edinburgh but she lasted only six months due to Prime Minister Gordon Brown's loathing for both her and her species. (See Cat Defender posts of September 19, 2007 and August 13, 2009 entitled, respectively, "After a Dreary Ten-Year Absence, Number 10 Downing Street Has a New Resident Feline and Her Name Is Sybil" and "Sybil, 10 Downing Street's Former First Feline, Dies Unexpectedly from an Undisclosed Illness.")

Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne not only inexcusably allowed his cat, Freya, to roam the jam-packed streets of Westminster but to be injured by a hit-and-run motorist before he exiled her first to Kent and then to the Oval section of South London. She died on August 4, 2022 at the age of thirteen. (See Cat Defender posts of November 10, 2014 and November 13, 2014 entitled, respectively, "Freya, the Chancellor of the Exchequer's Resident Feline, Cheats Death Once Again When She Survives Being Run Down and Injured by a Motorist but Her Good Luck Cannot Last for Much Longer" and "Gutless Georgie 'Porgie' Osborne Gets Rid of Freya but in Doing So He Lies About the True Reason Behind His Second Cruel Abandonment of Her.")

By comparison, the politicians and bureaucrats in Washington are not only too coarse to ever appreciate a cat but also too imperious and arrogant to even recognize a need for positive public relations. Rather, exterminating people, stealing everything that they can get their sticky fingers on, and putting the screws to the American public are the only things that ever have titillated their interest.

Nevertheless, Bush Bird II and Jeffrey Epstein's buddy, Bill "Bubba Bean" Clinton, did keep cats for a brief while before getting rid of them. (See Cat Defender posts of January 24, 2009, December 24, 2008, and March 12, 2009 entitled, respectively, "India Dies at Age Eighteen Leaving the White House Without a Resident Feline for the First Time in Sixteen Years," "Former First Cat Socks Is Gravely Ill with Cancer and Other Assorted Maladies," and "Too Cheap and Lazy to Care for Him During His Final Days, Betty Currie Has Socks Killed and His Corpse Burned.")

The one recent bright spot in Washington came when Joe and Jill Biden adopted a former farm cat named Willow and she lived with them at the White House between 2022 and 2025. Regrettably, the world never saw or heard much about her.

Six years later on, the Foreign Office has yet to find a replacement for Palmerston. Murdoch likewise has not had anything yet to say about procuring another resident feline for the governor's office.

Regardless of whatever both branches of government ultimately decide to do, the idea of allowing politicians and bureaucrats to keep, abuse, and kill cats with impunity is not a good idea. That admonition likewise applies to all other part-time, absentee owners, such as stores and others that employ cats as mascots, farmers who keep them in barns, and all TNR practitioners.

With there being so many homeless cats in this world, that is perhaps the best that can be done for many of them in many circumstances but all such schemes are rife with neglect, abuse, and a million dangers and therefore hardly ideal. (See Cat Defender post of April 30, 2022 entitled "Relegated to the Dustbin of History and All but Forgotten by the Grossly Negligent Annapolis Maritime Museum, Miss Pearl's Beautiful Soul Continues to Cry Out from the Grave for Justice.")

As for Palmerston, all that the world has left of him are the photographs and memories of his brief, turbulent life that was so unjustly cut way short. Even if he had died in Hampshire Murdoch undoubtedly still would have denied him a proper resting place and a grave marker but the mere fact that his remains were so callously disposed of on a remote colonial outpost in the Atlantic is yet still another grim reminder that his plight, and that of all cats for that matter, is pretty much hopeless in a world that is presided over by diabolical monsters. 

Photos: Stefan Rousseau of the BBC (Palmerston at the Foreign Office), the Daily Mail (Palmerston on Downing Street), The Sun (Palmerston with Simon McDonald),  Twitter (Palmerston in Hampshire), The Royal Gazette (Palmerston on Murdoch's desk, at World Tag Day, with the Duchess of Gloucester, at the Poppy Appeal, and relaxing in a chair), and Facebook (Palmerston with a red box and on the carpet).