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‘One cat just leads to another’

Ernest Hemingway

THE CATHEDRAL

Canterbury’s imposing cathedral almost overpowers the city that surrounds it, in physical terms and also in the weight of its history.

The original cathedral, built by St Augustine, was destroyed in a fire in 1067, and again fire destroyed much of its Norman replacement, although the shrine of St Thomas à Becket was spared (only to be destroyed later by Cromwell’s troops). The tombs of Henry VI and his wife Joan of Navarre, and of Edward, the Black Prince survived the Reformation. Today Canterbury Cathedral remains not just a tourist destination but a place of pilgimage and a worldwide symbol for Christianity.

There is a cacophony of cats at Canterbury Cathedral – choir cats, school cats, canonical cats and visiting cats. Such a vigorous feline population is hardly out of character for a place that has always been a hive of activity; down the centuries Canterbury Cathedral has thrived on the visits of pilgrims to the shrine of St Thomas à Becket, and tourists come to see the tombs of Henry VI, his wife Joan of Navarre, and Edward the Black Prince.

Magic: unmusical encounters with Fungus and Rhubarb in the cloisters

Adjacent to the Great Cloisters, in a house that forms part of a medieval gateway, live two cats, Rhubarb and Fungus – mother and daughter. The household in which they live is best described as an ecclesiastical ark, and is presided over by Canon Edward Condry, Canon Treasurer at the cathedral, his wife Sarah and their four children, Fran, Felix, Jerome and Hannah, who are nominally responsible for regulating the animal affairs of the household.

Fungus and Rhubarb are members of a varied household – both cats have had to make major adjustments to their natural inclinations; Fungus, when really pressed for somewhere peaceful quiet and warm to lay her head, pulls up the lid on Little Nell’s cage, clambers in and snuggles up to her (Little Nell is a guinea pig). As for the dogs of the house – Jumble, Tigger and Jim – the cats will sometimes use them as scratching posts, but for the most part, they are ignored. This approach has not been entirely successful: cats can cope with being ignored, but an ignored dog just tries harder and harder to attract attention. For an intent cat, there is nothing worse than a dog nosing in, butting the cat for attention and whacking its tail loudly against a nearby dustbin. If life gets a bit hectic they wander together over to the cloisters, where they charm the occasional edible treat from cathedral visitors.

Occasionally their timing is out, and they come nose to nose with Magic, another cathedral cat at Canterbury.

Rhubarb keeps a wary eye on the cloisters

Magic also likes the cloisters. She goes there regularly and when she finds Fungus and Rhubarb there as well, the cloisters echo to distinctly unholy sounds: it’s a bit like buskers competing for space. Magic lived in the Condry’s old house before moving to another part of the cathedral precincts with her family, the Rev. Dr Canon Richard Marsh, his wife Elizabeth, and their daughter Phoebe. She loves her new house at the cathedral. At the end of a large private garden are the old city walls, on which she sits, watching the outside world scurry by. At the other end, the Bell Harry Tower rises majestically over the cathedral nave, in front of which can be seen the Corona chapel, the original home of St Thomas à Becket’s relics.

Not even the dogs can follow Fungus out of the window

Visits to the deanery are a regular item in her diary, although one day she had to explain indignantly – and ultimately unconvincingly – that she was only looking at the whole salmon laid out for lunch. And unlike Rhubarb and Fungus, Magic has found her way into the cathedral, another regular part of her perambulations around her precinct. The Good Friday services perplexed her a little: they are very long, so she distracted herself (and much of the congregation) by hopping on and off the canons’ stalls, eventually settling with a sigh of resignation to an extended grooming session. She enjoys being with the choir too: this seems to be a favourite pastime for cathedral cats, and Magic has stolen the show more than once! But on a quiet summer’s evening, with the cathedral almost entirely to herself, Magic likes nothing more than to stretch out on the throne of St Augustine, having a good wash while she plans the next day’s itinerary.

Magic’s magical view of the cathedral

Rhubarb and Fungus, trying unsuccessfully to ignore Tigger the dog