Described as a big, fluffy Maltese cat, Bill wasn’t just a pest control officer; he was the beloved mascot for over 100 postal employees. But Bill wasn’t your average office cat. While the General Post Office in Manhattan had teams of cats working together, Bill was a lone wolf. He fiercely protected his territory at the Flatbush sub-station, not just from mice, but from any other cat who dared to try and steal his prestigious civil service job.
This meant Bill got into a lot of brawls. After a victory, he’d often vanish for a few days to cool off, but he always came back. Until one day in August 1922, he didn’t.
A Feline Fugitive
As days turned into weeks, the postal staff grew frantic. They issued a BOLO—a "be on the lookout" alarm—for their missing champion. Yes, really. An official alert for a cat.
Bill’s main caretaker, Postal Clerk William Kuek, made a public plea to the Brooklyn Times Union. "If anyone sees a gray Maltese with a fighting disposition and a string of jingling bells around his neck," they should let him know. The jingling bells were a classic touch for a cat with such a tough reputation.
But Kuek had a hunch. He suspected Bill might just be holding out for better contract terms. In a twist worthy of a Hollywood movie, news had just arrived from Washington, D.C. that would change everything for postal cats across the country.
A New Deal for Mousers
The new federal ruling was a game-changer: postmasters could now provide meat for their office cats at the government’s expense. You read that right—taxpayer-funded steak dinners for mousers. The government officially recognized that cats were vital "protectors of the government from the ravages of rodent pests."
As Kuek cheekily told the paper, “Every dog has his day, and from this time on, ‘tabby’ cat is to have money-bought food, if he happens to be a post office guardian.”
Was Bill waiting for his union benefits to kick in? We’ll never know for sure, but just as news of the new meat allowance spread, something magical happened.
The Return of the King
On August 18, 1922, the Brooklyn Times Union joyfully reported that Bill had finally returned! "The smile is back again on the faces of postal employees," the article declared. Bill strolled back into the post office as if he’d just been out for a casual walk, ready to claim his due.
Kuek promised to make sure Bill got his fair share of government-funded meat, hoping the daily feast would convince the brawling cat to stay put. One can only imagine the new wave of feline challengers who showed up hoping to get a piece of the action.
Walk in Bill's Paw Prints
So, where did this legendary cat-and-mouse drama unfold? Bill’s turf was the Flatbush Post Office, which, during his reign in 1922, was located on the top floor of a building at 959-963 Flatbush Avenue, between Albemarle Road and Snyder Avenue. The building also housed the Flatbush Savings Bank.
Brooklyn, like the rest of NYC, was growing rapidly, and the post office had to move several times to keep up. Just two years after Bill’s triumphant return, in 1924, the entire operation moved to a larger, more modern building at 2265 Bedford Avenue. We can only hope that when the 108 employees packed up, they brought their celebrity cat—and his meat allowance—with them.
The post office moved again in the 1930s to its current home. While you can no longer visit the building where Bill fought for his job and his dinner, you can visit his institutional successor. The present-day Flatbush Post Office at 2273 Church Avenue, which opened in 1936, carries on the legacy.
So next time you’re in Flatbush, take a stroll past Church Avenue. And as you mail your postcard, spare a thought for Bill—the tough, fluffy, and very savvy feline who knew his worth and wasn’t afraid to hold out for a better deal. He wasn’t just a cat; he was a Brooklyn legend.
