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Updated: May 20, 2025
And I believe it is entirely his fault that there are a hundred-and-three cats in the convent- garden of San Lorenzo in Florence. For what are you to do? Animals are sacred, says Saint Francis. Animals are sacred, but cats have kittens; and so it comes about that the people who agree with Saint Francis have to suffer for the people who don't.
And I believe it is entirely his fault that there are a hundred-and-three cats in the convent-garden of San Lorenzo in Florence. For what are you to do? Animals are sacred, says Saint Francis. Animals are sacred, but cats have kittens; and so it comes about that the people who agree with Saint Francis have to suffer for the people who don't.
While she was rolling her sleeves up and tying on her apron she was poor, evidently, but very neat and wholesome in her black dress and the decent cap which crowned her grey hair while she unpacked the contents of the bag two newspaper parcels full of rather distressing viands, scissors, and a pair of gloves which had done duty more than once while all these preparations were soberly fulfilling, the agitation of the hundred-and-three was desperate indeed.
Only a ditch separated us I was in the cloister-walk, a hundred-and-three gaunt, expectant, desperate cats facing me. These brutes thought I was going to feed them! I was preparing weakly for flight when I heard steps in the gateway; a woman came in with a black bag.
They seemed to be forming up, in ranks, on the garth. Only a ditch separated us I was in the cloister-walk, a hundred-and-three gaunt, expectant, desperate cats facing me. These brutes thought I was going to feed them! I was preparing weakly for flight when I heard steps in the gateway; a woman came in with a black bag.
Then he spreads himself out to dispose of the prey feet tucked well in, head low, tail laid close along, eyes shut fast. That is how a cat of breeding loves to dine. Alas! many a day of intolerable prowling, many a black vigil, had taken the polish off the hundred-and-three.
Among those hundred-and-three restless Spirits there was not a cat that did not affect to believe that a hundred-and-two were away! It was horrible, the inhumanity of it. Francis not the wise man, etc. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. I had watched these beasts at their feverish exercises for nearly an hour before I perceived that they were gradually hemming me in.
"I've just tipped the scales at a hundred-and-three in my sweater." "One hundred and three," mused the Trainer, making a mental calculation. "What's Colley's weight?" "He's as near a hundred as you can make it." "Did you bring over a saddle?" "Yes; two of 'em; one apiece for the horses." "Tell Colley to take one, and some leads, and weigh out a hundred and twelve.
Then he spreads himself out to dispose of the prey-feet tucked well in, head low, tail laid close along, eyes shut fast. That is how a cat of breeding loves to dine, Alas! many a day of intolerable prowling, many a black vigil, had taken the polish off the hundred-and-three.
To and fro they paced, balancing sometimes with hysterical precision on the ledge of the parapet, passing each other at whisker's length, but cutting each other dead! Not a cat had a look or a sniff for his fellow; not a cat so much as guessed at another's existence. Among those hundred-and-three restless spirits there was not a cat but did not affect to believe that a hundred-and-two were away!
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