…And she held Sandy tighter in her arms, and stroked him more lovingly. A sort of silent dialogue took place, on that cold London night, between the dedicated woman and the feline, who had nothing but the testimony of his beauty to oppose to the heaviest accusations against the people among whom he had grown up.

“Prrr, prrr, prrr,” purred the cat; “but they fed me. They fed me well, in spite of the rationing: see how sleek I am, and what a splendid coat I have! Prrr, prrr, prrr . . . They deprived themselves to feed me. They are good people, I tell you . . .”

“It is true that they hate all we love,” thought the woman. “They hate our Leader; they hate his beloved Germany and her gospel of health, pride and power . . .”

“Prrr, prrr, prrr,” purred back the cat; “but they love me; they love us; they are good and kind to us. Prrr, prrr, prrr, you mustn’t hate them, you cannot hate them, if you love us. It is true that they have destroyed Europe . . . 

They have poured streams of fire over Germany; betrayed their own race; identified themselves with its worst enemies . . .

“Prrr, prrr, prrr,” purred back the cat; “that is because they had been (as they are still being) misled, deceived. But one day they shall wake up from their delusion, turn against their bad shepherds, and help the people of their own blood to build up a new Europe — the very Europe of your dreams, in which we creatures will all be happy — for they are good people at heart; good people like Aryans generally are, taken as a whole. Prrr, prrr, prrr . . . The proof of it is that they have taken such good care of me! Prrrrrrrrr . . .”

“O Cat, you are right,” agreed at last the tough old racialist. “Deeper and more everlasting than what people ‘do’ is what people are: the quality of their blood, which manifests itself in little actions of everyday life. You are right: propagandas come and go; the virtues of the blood remain. “They” were deceived into waging war upon their brothers, but you, my beauty, you they loved spontaneously, without being induced to — because men of their race are naturally inclined to kindness.”

Savitri Devi (1905 – 1982)

“Long-Whiskers and the Two-Legged Goddess, or The True Story of a “Most Objectionable Nazi” and… half-a-dozen Cats”

© The Savitri Devi Archive @ savitridevi.org

External link:
Savitri Devi (Wikipedia)


Black Velvet in Savitri´s lap (Emsdetten, Germany 1955)

“Savitri Devi loved all animals, but cats were her favorites. She acquired her first housecat when she was two. Although Savitri was a nomad most of her adult life, she always fed and cared for feral cats, and whenever she settled in one place for a while, she adopted housecats as well. It was not Savitri’s practice to name her cats, perhaps out of respect for their wildness, perhaps because she thought they already had their own names. Thus in her letters to friends, she merely described her cats (“orange and white,” “black and white,” etc). Those of her cats that did have names either came to her already named or their descriptions took on the quality of names (for example, Long-Whiskers and Black Velvet).”  (Text © The Savitri Devi Archive)

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