Macavity: The Mystery Cat -- Never Found at the Scene of the Crime

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats ^ | 1939 | T. S. Eliot

[poconopundit]

The Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T. S. Eliot (1939) is one of most creative and fun collections of poetry ever written in the English tongue. With splendid illustrations by Edward Gorey, the book is very short -- only 56 pages.

The genius of this collection of 15 playful poems on the adventures of anthropromophic cats is that Eliot beautifully describes the many "personalities" of cats -- and humans, for that matter.  Reading this is a cat lover's must.

These poems are part of our culture already: they inspired the Broadway musical CATS, for instance.  And the late great actors, Jon Gielgud and Irene Worth, recorded a reading you can find on YouTube.

I had forgotten about this particular poem: Macavity: The Mystery Cat, but the parallels to this election cycle are so obvious I just had to post this.

 

Macavity: The Mystery Cat

by T. S. Eliot

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw --
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of a crime -- Macavity's not there!


Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of the crime -- Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in hte air --
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!

 

 

 

Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.


Macavity, Macavity, there no one like Macavity.
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square --
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!

 

 

 

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair --
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!


And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings on the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair --
But it's useless to investigate -- Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
"It must have been Macavity!" -- but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.


 

 

 

Macavity, Macavity, there no one like Macavity.
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place -- MACCAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

 

---

 

[poconopundit]

FRiends, I dedicate this T.S. Eliot poem to the mainstream press, our Attorney General and FBI Director who, try as they may, never seem to see, hear, or speak enough about the criminal behavior of this crooked cat.

[MUDDOG]

T.S. Eliot recorded this as well. He put a lot of expression into it.

Also have Sylvie Smith reciting her poem “The Galloping Cat.” She gets all the nastiness of it into her voice.

[Cats Pajamas]

2 cute by half.

[FreedomPoster]

Pics aren’t working here.

[JimSEA]

Funny.

[MUDDOG]

Correction: Stevie Smith.

[ConservativeDude]

thank you for posting this. Anything Eliot is ALWAYS appropriate!!!

[V K Lee]

Never much of a cat person, I see nothing but crooked cats. Not only crooked, but sneaky, demanding, and constantly preening. These cats prowl all night, coming home to sleep and to rest their furry little heads on one who tends to their needs and sees they are well fed and happy. Far too independent, but constantly needing attention.

Logan’s Run was read several years before the movie was made and seen. Peter Ustinov was the perfect man for the character he played. The film itself was shot in the building in which I worked. The Dallas Trade Mart. For weeks on end the office personnel employed in the many company offices located on the floors above the atrium, would come out on the balconies to watch the action, thinking ...goodness this is certainly not the glamorous world we thought it to be. At that time, Michael York was the larger star shining, with J. Agutter a relative newcomer. Peter U, was not seen, not remembered. Just as Farrah is not remembered being seen. Richard Jordan, perhaps but it has been years since I’ve heard any mention of his name. His only other film seen and remembered is Hunt for Red October. The man died at a relatively young age.

[HWGruene]

19 of them own me. People abandon them since my home is next to an old school parking lot that backs the dry comal creek and greenbelt. It feeds the Comal river.
Love the cats, people that just dump them not so much.

Love the book, thank you for the you tube link.

[Vision Thing]

Macavity, as in cavity, an empty nothingness that nonetheless makes an impression. (I suspect the Apple fanatics won’t appreciate the name much.)

So yeah, the name and the poem applies to our political opponents.

I’ve read only one TS Eliot poem, which seemed a bit heavy, as I recall.

This one was lively and hilarious.

[freepertoo]

Love the poem...hated Cats...worst play I ever saw!

[onona]

Thanks poco !

[moovova]

While we don’t really mind that this cat succeeds,
because after all, he’s just a cat...

We hope the person you’ve meant this poem to mirror, will soon be caught, because after all, she’s just a rat.

[MayflowerMadam]

Ditto. No pics for me, either.

Love all of T.S. Eliot’s cat stuff.

[MayflowerMadam]

19? Wow. We have six “dumped” cats ourselves (used to be eight) — the result of us having lived on a rural TN back road for six years. Love ‘em all.

[LostInBayport]

Sarah Brightman covered this on a collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber songs. Love it.

[patriot08]

One of my favorite Broadway productions.
Love this number from ‘cats’:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGwshQb7Ji8

(Video contains pics of adorable cats)

[Jim W N]

Applause!!! Bravo!!!

[Jim W N]

You might like this one...

The Naming of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT
NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey —
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter —
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum —
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover —
But the cat himself knows, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his
name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.