The D. C. of D. C.

A loyal reader of Skeptophilia commented that the last few posts have been pretty grim, and maybe I should write about something more uplifting, like kitties.

I am nothing if not obliging.

Today's post is not only about kitties, though.  It's about something that has struck me over and over, in the fifteen years I've been writing here at Skeptophilia headquarters; how little it takes to get a weird belief going.

Which brings us to: the strange legend of the Demon Cat of Washington D. C.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons X737257, Black cat looking down from a white wall, CC BY-SA 4.0]

There's been a persistent legend in Washington of a demonic (or ghostly, or both) cat that stalks its way around the White House and Capitol Building, and is prone to appearing when something big is going to happen -- especially prior to the death of a major public figure.

Me, I'm currently wondering where that freakin' cat is when you need him.

On the other hand, it apparently also appears prior to stuff like wars being declared and the economy tanking hard, and whatever problems we currently have, we don't need that added into the mix.

Be that as it may, the Demon Cat -- often just known as D. C. -- is an ordinary-looking black house cat, but if approached it "swells up to the size of a giant tiger" and then either pounces on the unfortunate witness, or else... explodes.

I can see how this could be alarming.  Tigers are scary enough without detonating suddenly.

Interestingly, this legend is not of recent vintage; it goes all the way back to the mid-1800s.  It was reported prior to Lincoln's assassination; and right before McKinley's assassination in the 1890s, a guard saw the Demon Cat and allegedly died of a heart attack.  It's been fired at more than once, to no apparent effect. 

It's an odd urban legend, and the striking thing about it is its longevity -- 175 years and still going strong.  Steve Livengood, chief tour guide of the U. S. Capitol Historical Society, says it has a prosaic origin.  Back in the mid-nineteenth century, the Capitol Police had a bad habit of hiring unqualified people, often family members or friends of congresspeople who were unemployed for good reason.  Drunkenness on the job was rampant, and one day, a policeman had passed out on the floor of the White House at night, and woke to find a black cat staring at him.  He freaked, told his supervisor, and the supervisor sent him home to "recover."  This started a rash of reports from other policemen claiming they'd seen a giant demonic cat so they, too, would be given a day off.

But it's curious the legend has persisted for so long.  I'm sure part of it is just that it's funny -- passed along as a tall tale by people who don't really believe it.  But some reports seem entirely serious.  A 1935 sighting claimed the Demon Cat's eyes "glow with the all the hue and ferocity of the headlights of a fire engine."  As Jordy Yager writes in The Hill:

The fiendish feline is said to be spotted right before a national catastrophe occurs (like the stock market plunging or a national figure being shot) and before presidential power shifts hands.  The story finds its origins in the days when rats used to run rampant in the basement tunnels of the Capitol and officials brought in cats to hunt them down.  The Demon Cat was one that never left.

It's a curious feature of human psychology that it's really easy to get a belief started, and damn near impossible to eradicate it once it's taken hold.  (Something Fox News uses with malice aforethought; they make whatever wild claims serve their purpose, knowing that even if they have to retract them, the retraction will never undo the damage done by the original claims.)  So stories of the Giant Exploding Kitties of Doom might sound ridiculous, but the fact that the story is still out there despite being completely ridiculous is itself interesting.

On the other hand, maybe at the moment it's just wishful thinking.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..."

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