Witches and cats tend to go together like potions and cauldrons. When most people think of the witch’s familiar, the dark and mysterious black cat curled up beside a bubbling cauldron immediately comes to mind. And when you think about it, it makes perfect sense that cats are among the most common witch familiars.
A familiar is defined in Western demonology as a small animal or low-ranking demon given to a witch by the devil or even inherited from another witch. These critters were meant to serve as attendants to the witch and were known to take on many forms. Toads, dogs, insects, spiders, and hares were common, but the most iconic was—and still is—the cat.
Witch familiars and many pet cats have a lot in common. Cats are notoriously independent, and they tend to just appear out of nowhere. They have a habit of choosing their people rather than the other way around, and my own experience confirms this. Most people I know who have cats didn’t go to the shelter and pick a piteously crying kitten out of several—their cats chose them. The internet is so full of stories about random stray cats showing up at some unsuspecting person’s front door demanding food and affection that the phrase “cat distribution system” was born to describe the phenomenon.
I’m well familiar with the so-called cat distribution system myself. My cat Thorn is another cat that just appeared out of nowhere as a kitten, crying in the holly bush outside my apartment building. He came to me about six months after I lost Phantom, another cat who chose me. Check out my story in Goodbye for Now: True Stories of Life, Love, and Loss if you’re curious why Phantom was so special to me.
Given that only six months had passed, I was still grieving. I wasn’t planning on getting another cat for at least another six months, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for that little white and black menace. There were plenty of other people around who could have helped, but they did their best to ignore the crying kitten. I, on the other hand, made the mistake of leaving food out for him.
Well, maybe I knew exactly what I was doing.
But, given the timing of Thorn’s appearance and the fact that a whole apartment complex full of people weren’t willing to do anything about the kitten, I feel justified in my actions. I have no doubt in my mind that Thorn chose me, just like Phantom did before him (a fact that I have no trouble reminding him of whenever he starts bitching at me about his feeding schedule).
My parents’ cat, Scruffy, has a similar story. He appeared out of nowhere as a scruffy gray kitten (thus the name) while they were visiting my uncle and would not leave them alone until my mom picked him up and took him home. My brother’s cat, Otto, showed up while he was hanging around with his friends, and he was the only one willing and able to take the needy cat in. My other brother had a cat named Nugget (RIP) that found him in a Chick-fil-A parking lot.
Even the names we give our pet cats are reminiscent of stories about witches’ familiars. A few recorded familiar names found in old witch trials include Pyewacket and Grizzel Greedigut—names self-styled Witchfinder General Matthew Hopkins found so unlikely that he believed no human could have invented them, declaring them proof of witchcraft. Considering that many modern cats have equally ridiculous names, I think we can safely say Hopkins was more likely telling on his lack of imagination than finding any real proof of witchcraft.
When you consider how cats choose their own people, it’s no wonder we so often think of witches and cats together. We might sometimes think of our cats as nuisances, but they really do belong with us witches, twining around our ankles as we dance with our brooms or perched on a shelf, watching as we concoct a special brew. It’s their independence, contrasting with the tight bonds they form with their people, that makes them such good familiars.
Playing With Demons 