Mousehole Cat Quotes

“Mowzer was very partial to a plate of fresh fish. In fact she never ate anything else. But she liked a little variety.”

“Once there lived in the village a cat whose name was Mowzer. She had an old cottage with a window overlooking the harbour, an old rocking chair with patchwork cushions and an old fisherman named Tom.”

“The Great Storm-Cat grew quiet: gone was his hunger for hunting, for making his meal of the mice-men. Only the pleasure of the purring remained. Then the Great Storm-Cat began to purr with Mowzer, and as the soft sound grew, the winds waned and the waves weakened.”

“And every year, folk come from all over Cornwall at Christmas time, to see Mousehole lit up with a thousand lights, shining their message of hope and a safe haven to all those who pass in peril of the sea.”

“The Great Storm-Cat is stirring, thought Mowzer as she watched at her window. The wind whined like a wild thing about the high headlands. It came hunting the fishing boats in their hidden harbours. When the Great Storm-Cat is howling, thought Mowzer, it is best to stay snug indoors by a friendly fire. “

“As she listened to his wailing, Mowzer felt a sudden strange sadness for him. How lonely he must be, she thought, endlessly hunting the men-mice in the deeps of darkness, and never returning to the rosy glow of a red-hot range. And her kind heart was moved to comfort him.”

“And so it was that he was taken off guard as the little boat made its bid for freedom. Soothed by the sweetness of Mowzer’s serenade, the Great Storm-Cat paused in his prowling and pulled back his giant cat’s paw for a mere moment. Swiftly the little boat passed through the Mousehole and out into the open sea. Then the Great Storm-Cat played with them as a cat plays with a mouse. He would let them loose for a little as they fought their way towards the fishing grounds. Then down would come his giant cat’s paw in a flurry of foam and water. But he did not yet strike to sink them, for that would have spoiled his sport.”

“They ate up the few vegetables that were left in their storm-wracked gardens. They ate up the salted pilchards that were left in the cellars. Mowzer hated vegetables and the pilchards were took salty for her taste. Soon there was nothing left. The cats and their people grew very hungry.”

“She knew that the game serves only to sharpen the appetite for the feast to follow. It is his meal or mine, thought Mowzer, as she looked at the floundering fish in the belly of the boat. Blue, green and silver, they glistened in the greyness. It made her mouth water to look at them.”

“ ‘Mowzer, my handsome,’ he said, for he was a courteous and well-spoken man, ‘Mowzer, my handsome, it will soon be Christmas, and no man can stand by at Christmas and see the children starve. Someone must go fishing come what may, and I think it must be me. It cannot be the young men, for they have wives and children and mothers to weep for them if they do not return. But my wife and parents are dead long since and my children are grown and gone.’ “

“All day they fished in a seething sea. The waves were so high and the clouds were so low that they soon lost sight of the shore. And all the time the Great Storm-Cat played with the little boat, striking it and then losing it, but never quite sinking it. And whenever his claws grew to sharp, Mowzer would sing to him to soften the edge of his anger.”