The Weather Is Feline

The weather has been feline lately. Daily bouts of thunder in deep rolling purrs. Striated clouds like a tabby’s back stretched across the sky. Sun to rain to wind and back—the capricious temperament of a fickle cat. Meanwhile, my own cat is caught up in primeval prognostications, howling before a sudden downpour, tail twitching like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra, then riding out the storm while staring at me in self-satisfied silence as if to say, See? I told you. It’s no wonder so much world folklore connects cats with weather magic and changes in the atmosphere.

“Cats have the reputation of being weather-wise,” wrote American inventor H.H.C. Dunwoody in his 1883 book of weather proverbs. “It is almost universally believed that good weather may be expected when the cat washes herself, but bad when she licks her coat against the grain, or washes her face over her ears, or sits with her tail to the fire.”

In English folklore, cats were thought to claw the curtains when it was about to get windy. In Scotland, cats washed behind their ears before rain. In Wales, cats washed their faces and ears before rain and would face the fire to foreshadow frost or snow. There’s even a Japanese idiom that says when a cat washes its face, rain will come. (猫が買うを洗うと雨が降る). But beyond presaging the weather, cats have also been known to change it.

Dunwoody mentions the common maritime saying that a “cat has a gale of wind in her tail,” which is why sailors did their best not to upset any pets prowling the deck. They also knew to tread lightly around feline passengers because knocking (or throwing) a cat overboard could also cause a storm. This storm bringing power isn’t far off from the mythology of the Ccoa or K’owa, a powerful feline spirit in indigenous Andean mythology that lived in the sky. Hail originated from her eyes, thunder from her roar, and rain from her urine. Worship and appeasement of this deity was essential to ensure fertile crops.

In parts of Thailand and Cambodia, cat agricultural rituals are still held to combat drought. During the Hae Nang Maew ceremony (แห่นางแมว) a caged female cat (or cat stuffed animal) is paraded through town while the cat is sprinkled with water. The cat’s cries in response to these mock showers are supposed to call the Gods to make it rain. Apparently, the best results come from using a cat with a darker coat to better match the desired rainclouds.

And what did early modern witches do when they needed to brew a storm? They used feline weather magic, too. Cats and bad weather were at the heart of the bloody 16th-century North Berwick witch trials in Scotland. After King James VI survived a particularly nasty squall with his new Danish bride in 1590, he decided witchcraft was the cause and set out to find the culprits. According to multiple confessions extracted under torture, the accused witches baptized a cat, disinterred and dismembered bodies from a local cemetery, and tied pieces of the bodies to the baptized cat and others. They then heaved these unholy combinations into the sea to cause the massive storm that nearly killed King James.

With lore like this, it’s hard to believe weather isn’t more of a hot topic. But there’s a general cynicism about the subject as being unworthy of discussion—a bastion of the brain-dead, relegated to the most banal small talk. Yet I find it’s the perfect excuse to bring up esoteric concepts in casual conversation about the vast invisible system that connects us all. Why not watch the fog come on little cat feet? Or look up at the stars and imagine some great celestial feline pulling the atmosphere’s strings? Why not observe your whiskered companion for clues about the skies instead of checking that app? Yes, please, let’s talk about the weather.