Egypt - Land of the Crazy Cat Ladies

My baby and despot,  Cinnamon.

“Mommy wuvs her baby. Yes her does! Yes her does! Mommy wuvs her baby more den wife itself. Mommy would do anyfing for her baby...”

I talk like this to my cat sometimes. Pretty stupid, right? Well, at least I’m not the first to descend to this level. The Egyptians were crazy cat ladies too, although they took it to a much greater extreme.

In 450 BCE, the penalty for killing a cat was death. Exporting them out of Egypt was strictly forbidden, and an entire government agency was developed to repatriate kidnapped kitties to their home country. When a house caught fire people would rush inside to rescue their pets, but when this was unsuccessful the bodies were embalmed and buried with great honor in special burial grounds. Over 80,000 cats were found in a Beni-Hassan tomb, along with supplies for the afterlife such as mice and milk.

Unfortunately, Cambyses of Persia took advantage of this devotion during the Battle of Pelusium.

It began like any other war. The two armies marched out to meet each other, spears bristling, armor rattling--but then the Egyptians noticed something strange on the Persians’ shields. They were covered with paintings of Bastet, the cat goddess. Sacrilege!

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Cambyses ordered hundreds of sacred animals, including cats, to be driven before his army. The Egyptians were horrified. They couldn’t fight back without hurting one of their beloved companions. Ultimately this led to the destruction of Pharaoh’s army, and Persia emerged victorious. According to legend, Cambyses hurled cats at the Egyptians during his parade through the city, mocking their shameful defeat.

Isn’t that ridiculous? Why would somebody sacrifice their freedom for a cat? I would never--oh wait. You’ll have to excuse me. Cinnamon wants me to rub him. And after this I’ll have to scrape out his litter box, pick fur off my clothes, bandage my scratched hands, refresh his cat chow…

Do any of you guys have cats?

Mummified cats.

I Wish

Adolph Hitler as a child.

While Adolph Hitler wasn’t solely responsible for World War II, I think we can all agree that he was one of the instigators. Think of him as a match and Germany as a gasoline puddle. While something probably would have sparked conflict eventually, without Hitler it might not have been as devastating. The Allies realized this and took every opportunity to shoot at him.

None of the assassins were successful, and ironically Hitler’s closest encounters with death happened by chance. Both times he survived--but only because bystanders went out of their way to rescue him.

Hitler’s life was first threatened when he was a child. One day, while playing on the banks of the River Inn, he tumbled into the water and was swept off by the current. Fortunately--or unfortunately, depending upon your perspective--another boy named Johann Kuehburger dove after him. He dragged Hitler ashore, saving one life and unwittingly dooming eleven million others.*

Several years after the river incident, Hitler once again brushed shoulders with death. This time it happened during one of World War I’s final battles, in which he made the mistake of crossing into a British soldier’s line of fire. They locked eyes for a moment. But when the Englishman saw that Hitler wounded, he allowed him to flee.

My brother was incredulous when I told him these stories. “We came so close! Why couldn’t we have killed Hitler when we had the chance?”

That was my reaction too. Millions of lives might have been saved if Kuehburger hadn’t rescued him, or the Englishman had pulled the trigger. But then I realized what we were wishing for. We were wishing that Kuehburger let a little boy drown. We were wishing that the soldier committed murder. At the time, Hitler was guiltless. It would have been unjust to hurt him.

Still. I wish.

*It should be noted that the evidence supporting this particular story is ambiguous, based mostly upon the word of Kuehburger’s friend and some vague newspaper clippings.