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).

An Implanted Microchip Not Only Failed to Have Prevented Percy from Being Stolen but Its Database Operators Steadfastly Refused to Help Him Find His Way Home

Percy Was Already Nine Yeas Old When He Vanished in 2020

"Mum loved Percy. He was a lovely cat, quite cuddly. He had a comical meow and we all adored him."
-- Nicola Ibbotson

Some years ago, Silke Ibbotson of March, a small town of twenty-three-thousand residents in Cambridgeshire and located one-hundred-forty-six kilometers northeast of London, adopted a gray and white cat named Percy. He either had been previously microchipped or she later had that procedure performed herself.

The mere fact that she reportedly had confined him indoors in order to acquaint him with his new surroundings is a strong indication that this was not his first home and that he conceivably could have had one or more previous owners. Although it has not been publicly disclosed when she acquired him, it is known that he was born in 2011.

For whatever reason, Ibbotson's plan backfired on her and he got out and disappeared in 2020 when he already was nine years old. She reported his disappearance to Petlog, which is owned by the Kennel Club in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, and with more than thirteen million customers is the largest pet database in England, but she never heard anything from it in return.

Two years later in 2022, she departed this vale of tears without ever knowing what had become of Percy. She apparently had just assumed that he had been killed and that is never either an intelligent or a responsible assumption for anyone to make who truly cares about a cat. 

Oblivious to the comings and goings of both cats and humans, time kept right on moving and even Ibbotson's now twenty-eight-year-old daughter, Nicola, soon forgot all about Percy. Such is the way of the world nowadays in that the departed are seldom either mourned or even remembered for very long.

Then out of the blue in September of this year she received a notification from Petlog that an unidentified party had applied to update Percy's contact information in its database and that could only mean that her mother's long-lost cat was, miraculously, still alive. Her surprise and elation quickly gave way to consternation and anger when Petlog chose to hide behind the Data Protection Act of 1998 by steadfastly refusing to inform her as where he was now living and with whom.

Not about to accept that absurd cruelty and injustice, Nicola launched an online campaign on social media for answers. Through those efforts she learned from an unidentified woman in Plymouth, three-hundred-eleven kilometers southwest of London in Devon, that a member of her family had picked up Percy from the street in 2020. 

Her unidentified partner then took to the telephone in order to contact local veterinarians and through that effort that individual learned that Percy had undergone dental work in September but that the surgery that had treated him either had not scanned him for an implanted microchip or, if it did, it had chosen for whatever reason not to have contacted Ibbotson.

To make a long story short, Ibbotson eventually learned the name and address of Percy's new guardian and set up a meeting with that individual that was scheduled to have taken place sometime in November. It has not proven possible to learn what was decided at that meeting but Ibbotson initially had demonstrated little interest in being reunited with Percy.

Arguing that he is now fourteen years old, settled, and happy where he is, she apparently does not want any part of him. She quite obviously has moved on but it is difficult to understand how that she in good conscience could possibly turn her back on Percy, especially considering how much that he supposedly meant to her mother.

"Mum loved Percy. He was a lovely cat, quite cuddly," she recalled to BBC on October 28th. (See "Microchipped Cat Feared Dead Found after Five Years.") "He had a comical meow and we all adored him."

Nicola Ibboton Apparently Does Not Want Percy Back

Adoration would thus appear to be every bit as fleeting and fickle as love itself.

Whether it was intentional or not, both she and her mother failed Percy in 2020 by allowing him to have gotten away but now she has been presented with a golden opportunity in order to make amends for that mistake. When it comes to lost cats, not many owners receive second chances and such rare opportunities never should be squandered.

Secondly, caring for a cat is a lifetime moral commitment that should not be easily sloughed off, that is if one has a conscience.

For its part, Petlog has not had anything to say in defense of its disgraceful behavior that has been either intelligent or even remotely responsible. "If a pet is marked as missing on our database, there is always contact with the existing recorded keeper to ratify any changes to a pet's keepership or request for any amendments to the keepership record," a spokesperson for the company told the BBC.

Conspicuously missing from its nonsensical spiel is any acknowledgement of its duty to facilitate, not obstruct, the reunification of lost cats with their rightful owners. C'est-à-dire, Petlog took the elder Ibbotson's money under false pretenses by steadfastly refusing to lift so much as a lousy finger in order to assist her daughter in that regard. 

While it is true that the company's notification that someone was tampering with Percy's data did alert Nicola to the fact that Percy was still alive, she nevertheless was left to her own devices in order to not only have tracked down the individual who now has custody of him but to make her own arrangements with that individual if she wanted to reclaim him. Most importantly of all, if she had not been able to have located Percy's new guardian and to have come to some amicable agreement with that individual, she would have been forced to enter into a protracted and expensive legal tug-of-war.

This is by no means the first time that Petlog has been exposed as a sham operation. For example, in July of 2016 Karen Young of Drayton Bassett, eight kilometers south of Tamworth in Staffordshire, received a letter from it requesting a change of ownership for her then seven-year-old Bengal, Tigger.

The problem with that asinine request was that the cat that she had purchased in 2009 for £800 had disappeared in 2012. What really got her goat, however, was the arrogant and shabby way in which she was treated by the company which included it referring to her as a "third party."

"But when I got in touch with Petlog and told them I was the owner and I wanted to be reunited with my cat, they refused to tell me who had him, due to data protection rules and instead said they'd pass on my details," she revealed to The Telegraph of London on August 16, 2016. (See "Missing Cat Found after Four Years -- but Family Can't Be Told Who Has It Because of Data Protection Rules.") "They told me it was up to the people who had him to get in touch with me."

The company even had the bloody cheek to have concocted a distinction between ownership and keepership. "A microchip registration should not be treated as proof of ownership, but rather it is a record of keepership," a spokesperson for the company gassed to The Telegraph. "That is, where a pet normally resides and is intended to assist reunification if the pet goes missing."

Through the intervention of an unidentified member of the public, Young eventually learned that Tigger was residing in Sutton Coldfield, a suburb of Birmingham City, nine kilometers southwest of Drayton Bassett. Armed with that vital bit of information, her receipt for the purchase of Tigger, and his certificate of pedigree, she took her case to the Staffordshire Police.

"Via a third party, this individual or individuals, have been made aware that the cat in their possession has an owner and they should take appropriate steps to return the cat to its rightful owner," the police later informed The Telegraph. "We expect this to happen. Failure to do so could result in further action."

 Karen and Carmen Young Fought to Have Tigger Returned to Them

The intervention of the long arm of the law did the trick and the family holding Tigger returned him to Young during the second week of August of 2016. Although grateful for the return of her beloved Tigger, Young was left with nothing but contempt for both Petlog and microchips.

"Based upon my experience I think microchipping is a scam," she told The Telegraph. "I paid for a service I'm not receiving. It's a mockery and protects criminals." (See Cat Defender post of January 24, 2017 entitled "Tigger Is Finally Reunited with His Family Despite the Best Efforts of the Administrators of a Microchip Database to Keep Them Apart.")

The veterinarian who treated Percy also failed Nicola by not scanning him and contacting her. For whatever it is worth, and that is not much, the British Veterinary Association (BVA) recommends that its members scan all new patients for implanted microchips.

"This ensures that the animal is correctly identified when checked against the national databases and serves as a useful reminder to a new client to ensure that they keep their details up-to-date," the association declares in an undated policy statement entitled "Microchip Scanning (Dogs and Cats) and Microchip Databases" which accompanies the BBC article cited supra. "The microchip details should be recorded on the practice('s) database -- often lost pets are local to the practice and a check against the practice's own databases can provide a quick solution."

Yet, the organization's president, Rob Williams, blames the existence of more than twenty pet databases in England for the problem; by contrast, in the United States there are more than forty of them. "The number of separate national databases currently in existence is a hindrance to effectively reuniting lost or stray pets with owners," he groused to the BBC. "We are calling on government to streamline the system so that there is a central portal that vets, local authorities, and police can use to search microchip records rather than having to contact separate databases individually."

That is more self-serving baloney! If veterinarians, shelters, and others are either unwilling to scan cats for microchips or they are too incompetent to locate them, what possible use are they? (See WALA-TV of Mobile, May 14, 2008, "Cat's Microchip Didn't Save It from Being Euthanized" and WACU-TV of Philadelphia, December 15, 2017, "Animal Shelter Euthanizes Man's Cat after Failing to Find Microchip.")

In the United States, some shelters even have privately admitted that they never bother to scan cats that they suspect of being homeless. They simply whack them despite the fact that absolutely nobody can tell the difference between a homeless and a domiciled cat with any degree of accuracy. Much, much more importantly, being homeless should not be a capital offense for any cat.

Secondly, if database operators, such as Petlog, will not share the troves of data that they either collect or have access to with the owners of lost cats, both they and microchips are pretty much worthless. Thirdly, if the BVA will not penalize its members who fail to scan cats for chips it would perhaps be better off if it just kept with trap shut and continued to collect its cut of the action from this outrageous racket.

Although it should be obvious, it nevertheless bears repeating that microchips do not offer cats so much as an iota of protection against their myriad of enemies, such as thieves, Animal Control officers, cops, poisoners, dogs, wild animals, birds of prey, motorists, and such rabid ailurophobes as ornithologists and wildlife biologists. (See Cat Defender post of May 25, 2006 entitled "Plato's' Misadventures Expose the Pitfalls of RFID Technology as Applied to Cats.")

They also have been linked to cancer. (See Cat Defender posts of  September 21, 2007 and November 6, 2010 entitled, respectively, "The FDA Is Suppressing Research That Shows Implanted Microchips Cause Cancer in Mice, Rats, and Dogs" and "Bulkin Contracts Cancer from an Implanted Microchip and Now It Is time for Digital Angel® and Merck to Answer for Their Crimes in a Court of Law.")

Some veterinarians and shelters are so incompetent that they cannot even properly implant them. (See Cat Defender posts of  April 28, 2016 and June 23, 2016 entitled, respectively, "Sassie Is Left Paralyzed as the Result of Yet Still Another Botched Attempt to Implant a Thoroughly Worthless and Pernicious Microchip Between Her Shoulders" and "The State of North Carolina's Veterinary Division Is Covering Up a Savage Beating Dished Out to Cooper at the Rowan County Animal Shelter During the Course of a Microchipping Fiasco.")

If all of that were not enough in order to convince cat owners to swear off microchips, many of them who utilize chips do not even bother to keep their contact information up-to-data with companies such as Petlog. Like tracking collars, they also provide owners with a convenient excuse to take unreasonable chances with the lives of their cats.  (See Cat Defender post of November 15, 2023 entitled "Basil Is Abducted, Shot in the Head, and Her Body Dumped in a Creek and, Although a Neighbor Was Immediately Implicated in Her Death, Apparently No Arrest Has Been Made More Than Two Months Later.") 

Kitty Snows, a Working Cat, Was Stolen Off of I Street in Foggy Bottom  

Occasionally one of these fly-by-night database operators will abruptly take down its shingle and go out of business without warning. That is precisely what Save This Life of Austin, Texas, did in February of last year.

The Save This Life microchips already inside of cats can still be read by some scanners but it may no longer be possible to access their data in the National Microchip Registry in Canton, Ohio. (See the Humane Society of Tacoma and Pierce County in Washington State, press release of February 25, 2025 entitled "Pet Owners Advised to Check Microchip Registrations After 'Save This Life' Closure.")

Lastly, not all that many individuals care about their privacy and the outrageous encroachments being constantly made upon their personal freedoms by both governments and capitalists alike but microchips are manna from heaven for every fascist and totalitarian on the planet who wants to control both their lives and those of their cats. The only obvious beneficiaries of these odious devices are their manufacturers, database operators, veterinarians, and shelters who are making out like bandits.

Furthermore, the disaster that befell Percy is a textbook case of an all-too-familiar scenario that implanted microchips and databases cannot possibly even begin to remedy. In a nutshell, a cat either gets out on its own or its owner intentionally lets it out and soon thereafter it is stolen, most often by a neighbor.

The thief then confines it indoors and that prevents its rightful owner from locating it. Without probable cause in order to procure a search warrant from a magistrate, aggrieved owners cannot search their neighbors' houses and apartments for their stolen cats.

In addition to confining such cats indoors, the only other thing that thieves need to remember is to steer clear of all veterinarians who might be tempted to scan their new companions for implanted microchips. All things considered, stealing a cat is the perfect crime and a good way of acquiring one for nothing and without any irksome strings attached.

Quite often these opportunistic and spur-of-the-moment thieves will soon grow tired of their stolen cats and dump them back in the street and only then if someone assumes custody of them and takes them to either a shelter or a veterinarian and their microchips are located and correctly deciphered are their original owners contacted. In many cases, however, that does not occur until five, ten, or as many as fifteen years later down the road.

Even far worse outcomes sometimes do occur. For instance, some of these stolen cats that later are dumped in the street are intentionally killed by motorists. (See Cat Defender posts of November 16, 2007 and February 8, 2017 entitled, respectively, "Fletcher, One of the Cats Adducted from Bramley Crescent, Is Killed by a Motorist in Corhampton" and "The Long and Hopelessly Frustrating Search for the Kidnapped Mr. Cheeky Ends Tragically Underneath the Wheels of a Hit-and-Run Motorist.")

Cats also are stolen in order to be tortured and mutilated. (See Cat Defender posts of November 23, 2018 and November 7, 2022 entitled, respectively, "The Thurston County Cat Killer Is Allowed to Get Away with Stealing and Carving Up at Least Fourteen Cats Thanks to the Blasé Attitude and Ineptitude of the Law Enforcement Community" and "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.")

Cats additionally are stolen for their valuable pelts and to be experimented on by eggheads at the degree mills and other devils inside governmental laboratories. Some cretins even steal them in order to make meals out of them.

Because they already have been socialized, it is most often domesticated cats, such as Percy, that are stolen off the street. Due to their far more trusting nature, females are easier for thieves to snatch than are toms. It therefore is not a good idea to socialize a cat too much; an inherent fear of all strangers is beneficial for its continued survival.

Even so both working cats as well as those that belong to TNR colonies are quite often stolen. For example, in 2021 the Humane Rescue Alliance (HRA) placed a lovely black cat named Kitty Snows on I Street in the Foggy Bottom section of Washington and surrounded by the campus of George Washington University as part of its Blue Collar Cat Program.

A Thief in Ottawa Stole Slim and Refused to Return Him

She was provided with a shelter and food and left to hunt mice. All went reasonably well until she mysteriously disappeared in January of 2024. The HRA eventually learned that she had been stolen by Barbara Rohde, executive director and president of the Mileage-Based User Fee Alliance, who in turn took her home with her to her swanky digs at the nearby, albeit infamous, Watergate Complex.

Alleging that the HRA was not only starving Kitty Snows but ignoring an injury to her nose, she adamantly refused to return her. For its part, the HRA ludicrously claimed that she was not fit for either adoption or life indoors.

Nothing further has appeared online regarding Kitty Snows so it would appear that Rohde has gotten away scot-free with her crime. Since very few, if any, rescue groups have any interest whatsoever in investigation cruelty to cats, it is pretty much a foregone conclusion that none of them are about to wage a costly and protracted legal battle over the custody of a working cat. (See The Hatchet of George Washington University, February 25, 2024, "Cat-astprophe: Neighbors Quarrel after Resident Takes Beloved Alley Cat" and WTOP-TV of Washington, February 25, 2024, "This District of Columbia Neighborhood Had Feline Assistance for Their Rodent Problem. Now It's 'Working Cat' Has Been Taken.")  

Clearly, equipping cats with collars and identification tags is a far better method of safeguarding them than relying upon microchips. At least they immediately let individuals and groups that are contemplating either stealing or harming them know that they have owners who care about them.

There are still a few, but not all that many, individuals left in this wicked old world who not only care about cats but also have an abiding respect for private property. Collars and tags, however, are by no means foolproof.

For instance, in June of 2007 a handsome longhaired, seventeen-year-old tuxedo named Slim disappeared from the home that he had shared with Michel Giroux and Tanya Guay in Ottawa's New Edinburgh neighborhood ever since they had adopted him from a shelter when he was only three months old. On June 30th, the distraught couple received an anonymous, handwritten letter in the mail that bore the ominous salutation "About Your Cat."

Not about to waste any time mincing words, the author got right down to the nitty-gritty. "This is to inform you that I have your cat," the letter began. The writer then went on to tell the couple that Slim was now living in the country on a lake, eating all-natural cat food, had a new female companion, and that he was "incredibly happy and healthy." 

Then after accusing Giroux and Guay of starving him, allowing him to go unbathed and ungroomed, and neglecting to attend to sores on his body, she delivered her coup d'grâce. "Obviously, I have no intention of returning him to the city streets to be neglected again," she declared. "If you really do care about his well-being, you'll be happy that he now lives a safe, sweet, peaceful, happy life."

Needless to say, the epistle left Giroux apoplectic. "Who does this person think she is to decide this cat is neglected," he raged. "This person has taken it upon themselves (sic) to think that they (sic) have saved a cat when in point of fact, this cat is not neglected and he's loved and we just want him home."

From there he proceded to heap scorn and ridicule upon her conclusions. "This watching the sun set while eating organic cat food -- I don't really think this is his thing," he concluded by way or arguing that Slim was happiest roaming the streets of New Edinburgh.

He and Guay filed a complaint with the police, contacted the Ottawa Humane Society, and distributed three-hundred-fifty Lost Cat posters around their neighborhood but it is highly doubtful that they ever saw either hide or hair of him ever again. Although thanks to the collar and tag that they had outfitted him with, they did learn what had become of him and that petit fait did afford them some small measure of closure. (See Cat Defender post of July 9, 2007 entitled "A Hungry and Disheveled Cat Named Slim Is Picked Up Off the Streets of Ottawa by a Rescuer Who Refuses to Return Him to His Owners.")

In addition to the legalities involved, stealing a cat is a complicated moral conundrum. For instance, allowing it to remain homeless on the street is not the humane thing to do but neither is stealing someone's beloved companion. Moreover, since thieves cannot take their stolen cats to veterinarians out of a fear of being exposed, there is no way of telling how many of them are being killed each year by the microchipping racket.

Both Rachel Wells and Roger Colbourne Ran Out on Snitch

Although having Slim stolen from them in such a cruel and unjust fashion could not possibly have been anything other than heartbreaking for Giroux and Guay, it also surely was traumatic for Slim as well who not only lost his lifelong guardians but everything else that was familiar to him. An almost endless assortment of stories concerning aggrieved owners appear online every day of the week but few, if any, of them ever mention what losing everything does to a cat.

Even just changing houses with their owners is traumatic for them. Nobody has ever summed up the dilemma more insightfully and eloquently than Shirley Rousseau Murphy did in her 2001 novel, Cat Laughing Last, wherein she wrote the following:

"Moving was easier for a woman than for a cat.

When people changed to a new home, they took all their familiar possessions with them, all the things that gave their daily lives resonance. A cat couldn't take her treasures.

A cat's hoard was places, a nook in a garden wall, the shade beneath a favorite bush, a tree branch that suited her exactly, the best mouse runs. All these formed a cat's world, affording her security and comfort, giving her own life structure. A cat's treasures could not be carried with her.

That was why, when humans moved with their cats, the cat wanted to return. The humans took their belongings. The cat was forced to leave hers.

That was why, when sensible folk moved to a new home, they kept their cat inside for a month, gave her time to establish new indoor haunts, discover new pleasures, wrap that new world around herself. They didn't let the cat bolt out the door and head straight for the old homestead -- a matter of a mile away, or maybe hundreds of miles. Distance didn't matter to a cat, all she wanted was to be among her belongings."

With that being the case, imagine how much more stressful it surely must have been for cats such as Percy, Kitty Snows, and Slim who were cruelly deprived of not only of their homes and possessions but also their guardians as well. Perhaps cruelest of all, with their freedom having been taken away from them there was no longer any possibility that they ever would be able to get outside again and to make their way back home.

Thus having lost everything, they were forced to start all over again in life from scratch. In many respects doing that is far more difficult for grown cats than for helpless kittens who have just entered this world. At least under the latter scenario newborns have their mothers for milk and protection and their siblings for companionship.

Finally, anyone who ever has loved a long-lost cat never should allow it to remain with its new caretaker. First of all, all cat-lovers are by no means created equal. Secondly, it is all but impossible for an owner to truly know how that their cat is being treated by its new caretaker and, above all, how that individual will deal with health problems that invariably crop up sooner or later and, above all, end-of-life issues.

For example, in 2003 a one-year-old brown and white tom named Snitch disappeared from the home that he shared with then nineteen-year-old Rachel Wells somewhere in the West Midlands. Her life continued and she soon forgot all about him.

Fourteen years later in January of 2017, Snitch turned up at a surgery in the West Midlands, his implanted chip was found and read and Wells contacted. It soon was learned that he had been frequenting the Black Country Living Museum (BCLM) in Dudley, which is located less than five kilometers from Wells' old abode.

As it turned out, he occasionally had been fed over the years by seventy-three-year-old maintenance man Roger Colbourne. That minuscule level of care was sufficient, however, in order to provide Wells with a convenient excuse in order to run out on him for a second time.

Percy Faces a Very Uncertain Future

"It's a huge relief to know that he's safe, well, and is being so well looked after by Roger and the Black Country Living Museum," she rejoiced. "He gets fish and chips every day by the museum. He couldn't ask for better that that. Roger has had him a lot longer than I have and he is well-loved."

What an outrageous load of baloney that turned out to have been! First of all, Colbourne surely did not put in more than five days a week at the museum, so who fed Snitch on weekends, holidays, and when he was on vacation? Besides, a daily ration of fish and chips is hardly a suitable diet for any cat.

Secondly, since Snitch never lived with either him or at the BCLM, where did he hang his hat for all those long, lonely years? Thirdly, Colbourne surely never provided him with so much as a jot of security and protection under such circumstances. Fourthly, he is a dog-lover and absolutely nobody who ever loved a cat would fob off his care onto such a person. 

"I was astounded to learn about Tiger's (his name for Snitch) past," Colbourne said. "I have grown extremely close to him over the years and can't imagine life without his companionship."

Not only was that more outrageous rubbish but his lies sealed Snitch's fate. Most notably, after he had suffered a stroke in January of 2019 Colbourne wasted little time in running out on the cat that he could not "imagine life without" by handing off his care to an unidentified co-worker.

In April of 2019, Snitch suffered a second stroke and afterwards he either died on his own or, more likely, was killed off by the co-worker. By that time, neither Colbourne nor Wells were anywhere to be found.

"Tiger had a short, but peaceful, retirement from the museum before sadly succumbing to another stroke," is how that the BCLM chose to eulogize him in an e-mail letter dated October 1, 2020. "His passing was a great sadness to us all and he is fondly remembered by the team." (See Cat Defender post of September 22, 2020 entitled "Snitch Is Found Alive Fourteen Years after His Disappearance but His Old Owner Refuses to Take Him Back in Spite of the Shameful Neglect Shown Him by His New Caretaker.")

The disturbing truth of the matter is that all working cats, shop cats, mascots, teahouse cats, and the members of TNR colonies are treated like second-class citizens of the feline world by their caretakers. They additionally are invariably nakedly exploited for all sorts of reasons as well as hideously neglected.

To put the appalling situation succinctly, they are considered to be good enough to serve as mistresses but, with the notable exception of Kitty Snows, hardly ever worthy of becoming brides. Not surprisingly, their lives often end tragically. (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.")

Cats that are stolen often fall into that same category but as long as there is life there is a flicker of hope for them and, in Percy's case, it is still not too late for Ibbotson to have a change of heart. She could demand that he be returned to her and thereby honor the sacred trust that her mother agreed to fulfill when she first adopted him all those years ago.

Regrettably, none of that appears to be in the cards. Ibbotson apparently has washed her hands of him and, like Snitch before him, Percy is on his own.

The mere fact that so many owners behave like Ibbotson and Wells also raises the suspicion that some of them could be guilty of having intentionally abandoned their long-lost cats in the first place. In other words, they did not want them when they had custody of them and they most assuredly do not want them now and that is arguably the most damning reason that microchips are so utterly worthless.

Photos: Nicola Ibbotson (Percy), John Devine of the BBC (Ibbotson), the Daily Express of London (Tigger with Karen and Carmen Young), WTOP-TV (Kitty Snows), Tanya Guay (Slim), and Bruce Adams of the Daily Mail (Snitch with Wells and Colbourne).

    

Saved from an Almost Certain Death on Interstate 280 in Newark, Conan Has Been Abandoned to Languish in a Shelter Because No One Will Offer Him a New Home

 Conan Was in Dire Straits

 

"Hunkered down on the median of a busy highway in the sweltering heat, Conan's life hung in the balance."

-- Megan Brinster of the Ramapo-Bergen Animal Refuge Incorporated

Congested Newark during the morning rush hour is hardly any place for a human, let alone a footloose cat. Yet, that is precisely where an approximately eighteen-month-old black male with a prominent white spot on his chest named Conan found himself at 9 a.m. on August 12th. 

Unlike his human counterparts who were safe and sound inside their lightning-fast old jalopies with their protective steel carapaces, he was all alone, just fur, organs, and bones, hunkered down on the median at milepost thirteen on Interstate 280. It additionally was humid with the thermometer nearing the one-hundred degree mark on the Fahrenheit scale and he was bereft of both air conditioning and so much as a drop of water.

Even more distressingly, with the traffic whizzing by in all directions at breakneck speed all avenues of escape had been closed off to him. How long that he had been stranded there is anybody's guess but most likely he had been tossed out of his previous owner's automobile under the cover of darkness.

It therefore is nothing short of amazing that he had not been killed instantaneously by either his impact with the pavement or crushed to death underneath the wheels of one or more oncoming motorists. It is even more miraculous that he had the presence of mind and strength of body in order to have made it to the safety of the median while he was still in one piece.

It is distressing to contemplate what must have gone through his mind as he waited for the end to come. For instance, did he think of his previous owner and wonder what had prompted that individual to have treated him so murderously?

Or, did he concentrate all of his remaining mental energy on staying alive? The only thing for certain is that he surely was frightened out of his mind by all the motorists and the noise and pollutants being emitted by their chariots.

Conan Has Spent Months in a Cage...

Given the hour of the day and the volume of traffic, it most likely would have been too perilous for any of the commuters to have stopped and attempted a rescue but a few of them did the next best thing and that was to have notified the New Jersey State Police. None of the details have been disclosed but somehow the officers not only were able to have gotten to Conan but to have safely corralled him as well. Perhaps he did not attempt to flee because there was not any place for him to have gone.

The officers in turn delivered him to Animal Control in Paterson, twenty-five kilometers north of Newark. Luckily for him, that agency almost immediately transferred him to the Ramapo-Bergen Animal Refuge Incorporated (RBARI) in Oakland, another seventeen kilometers northwest of Paterson. 

"Hunkered down on the median of a busy highway in the sweltering heat, Conan's life hung in the balance," the charity's Megan Brinster wrote August 13th on Facebook. (See "Trapped on Highway 280 -- Stray (sic) Cat's Near-Death Rescue.") "Conan's story could have ended in tragedy but because someone cared enough to act, he has a second chance."

An examination by RBARI's veterinarian revealed that he had come though his horrible ordeal with only an ugly-looking and painful laceration above his left  eye. "Despite it all, Conan is gentle, shy, and so grateful for the kindness that saved him," Brinster summed up on Facebook.

That is the good news. The bad news is that three months later on Conan continues to languish in RBARI's shelter. Apparently nobody feels that he is worth adopting and that injustice is almost as cruel as what his previous owner had done to him.

"Conan is the sweetest and gentlest boy you could ask for!" RBARI exclaimed September 13th on Petfinder. "While still somewhat timid, he is opening up very quickly at the shelter and would be an amazing companion to a quieter home." 

... but Recently He Was Moved to a Room with Other Cats

It is difficult to speak definitively but he apparently was confined to a cage during his first month or two at the shelter but recently he was moved into a room with other cats and that seems to have made a big difference in his outlook and behavior. "Once timid and reserved, he has blossomed as the result of his new freedom and (the) companionship of his mates and staffers. He (has) made a complete one-eighty and is now a total attention hog!" RBARI wrote October 25th on Petfinder. "He loves attention and pets so much that he will even 'bite' out hands to tell us he wants us to follow him or pet him more. He absolutely adores it when our staff or volunteers go in to say hi."

He additionally enjoys the fellowship of other cats and is said to be "interested" in dogs and all of that should have enhanced his chances of landing in a new home but, for whatever reason, that has not proven to be the case.

Like all humans who wind up behind bars, cats that are imprisoned at shelters are, for good reason, frightened to death. It therefore is perfectly understandable that they are timid and standoffish.

Revoltingly, millions of them are arbitrarily slandered and libeled each year as being either wild, dangerous, or unsocialized and then almost immediately dispatched to the devil. Those individuals who work at shelters, for Animal Control, and in law enforcement could not possibly be that stupid but when it comes to cats the objective of the game always has been to eradicate them as opposed to saving their lives.

As for Conan, it is impossible to speculate as to what the future holds in store for him. Although RBARI claims to be a no-kill facility, such shelters nevertheless still exterminate cats in droves. (See Cat Defender posts of July 29, 2010 and October 23, 2012 entitled, respectively, "The Benicia Vallejo Humane Society Is Outsourcing the Mass Killing of Kittens and Cats All the While Masquerading as a No-Kill Shelter" and "A Supposedly No-Kill Operation in Marblehead Betrays Sally and Snuffs Out Her Life Instead of Providing Her with a Home and Veterinary Care.")

At the time of Conan's rescue, one of RBARI's donors pledged to match every dollar donated for his care up to US$5,000 but given the exorbitant cost of veterinary care the charity most assuredly exhausted that amount months ago. So, where does that leave Conan?

Conan Deserves a Home, Not a Cage at a Shelter

Even those individuals unable to offer him a home could perhaps prolong his life and thus enhance his chances of one day being adopted by sponsoring him financially. It is almost superfluous to point out but it would be a diabolical crime of epic proportions if RBARI were to turn around and kill him after all that he has endured and overcome during his young and turbulent life.

Nevertheless, time is fleeting. The cold and rain of autumn have supplanted the heat and sunny days of summer. The leaves are mostly brown and yellow and dead on the ground and more hell is destined to follow in the wake of their sad demise.

The capitalistic media and the general public have conveniently forgotten that he even exists. That dire assessment of Conan's situation possibly could be even true of RBARI. It certainly does not appear to be doing very much in order to place him in a new home.

So, the most troubling question of all remains unanswered. Namely, will the charity permit him to see the arrival of another sweltering summer or is the cold outside destined to be a harbinger of the imminent arrival of an even harsher and totally unforgiving cold in the form of the Grim Reaper and from which there will not be any miraculous eleventh-hour reprieve like the one that he was granted on August 12th.

 It is almost superfluous to add but no arrest has been made in this disturbing case and none is expected. The law enforcement community, shelters, and Animal Control do not even bother to so much as investigate cases of this sort.

Things have been that way forever and that is not about to change. (See Cat Defender post of September 6, 2025 entitled "Dumped on the Cajon Pass and Staring Imminent Death in the Face, Bugs Is Rescued at the Last Minute by a Compassionate and Utterly Fearless Hockey Mom.")

With that being the deplorable reality, the best that society can do is to treasure cats such as Conan who have somehow managed to survive such utterly despicable acts of cruelty. Regrettably, by allowing him to languish in a cage for months without a home RBARI can hardly be said to be fulfilling that mandate.

Photos: Ramapo-Bergen Animal Refuge Incorporated.