The sound of the crash brought people running. The cat, barely alive, was scooped up and rushed next door to a very special place: the animal hospital and hotel at number 26, run by a veterinarian named Dr. Benjamin G. Dovey.
Dr. Dovey was more than just a vet; he was an agent for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and he was furious. "If I can discover the guilty wretch who hurled that poor, harmless creature from the top of a four-story building I shall only be too glad to pay the $10 reward offered," he declared to the press.
The little victim, a two-year-old cat with glossy black fur and faint tiger stripes, was in bad shape. She had three broken ribs and both of her rear thigh joints were dislocated. But Dr. Dovey was determined. He carefully dressed her wounds, reset her joints, and vowed to see her through the ordeal—and get justice.
A Neighborhood at War
The investigation immediately turned into a messy neighborhood feud. The finger-pointing started next door at 28 West Fourth Street. Dr. Dovey told reporters that one tenant, a Mrs. Mattose on the third floor, was certain that her upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Dirk, had thrown the cat from her fourth-floor window.
Mrs. Dirk, a woman with a "kind face" and several children, flatly denied it. She told reporters she didn't even own a cat. Pointing to another window in her apartment, she said, "I was here in this window when the poor kitty fell. Could I be here and there, too?" She vaguely mentioned a mysterious lodger who lived in a locked room but, strangely, no one ever followed up on that lead.
Mrs. Dirk’s husband, Gustav, was outraged by the accusation. Though a poor man, he put up his own $5 reward to find the real culprit and clear his wife’s name. "My good wife would not do such a thing, I know," he insisted.
But Mrs. Mattose wouldn't back down, escalating the feud until it landed them both in court. The two women had it out at the Jefferson Market Police Court, a building you can still see today as the beautiful Jefferson Market Library. In the end, Mrs. Mattose was fined $100 for slander and ordered to keep the peace. Justice for Mrs. Dirk, perhaps, but still no justice for the cat.
An Unsolved Case
Other neighbors had their own pieces to the puzzle. A tailor on the first floor was horrified, and George Collet, who worked in the basement, said he heard the crash and looked up to see Mrs. Dirk at her window—but noted the cat had fallen quite a distance away from it.
A week later, the culprit was still at large. An exasperated Dr. Dovey upped the reward to $25 (a hefty sum back then!), but no one ever came forward. The case of the falling cat of West Fourth Street went cold.
Some wondered if the target wasn't the cat, but the vet himself. Just a few months earlier, someone had thrown a window shutter from a rooftop, narrowly missing Dr. Dovey and a poodle. Was a disgruntled neighbor sending a cruel message about the noise or smell from his animal hospital?
The Amazing Animal Hotel
And what a hospital it was! Dr. Dovey and his wife, Diana, were local celebrities among New York’s pet-owning elite. Their building at 26 West Fourth Street wasn't just a clinic; it was an animal hospital, a hotel for boarding dogs, and a taxidermy shop. The windows were filled with his curious work—stuffed cats, dogs, birds, and even snakes.
In the back, a large yard with sturdy willow cages served as a summer getaway for the dogs of wealthy New Yorkers who were vacationing in Europe. Meanwhile, his wife Diana was known as a "cat whisperer," famous for her ability to soothe and heal sick felines. At home, she was surrounded by her own menagerie, including an incredible sixteen Angora cats who all lived together in peace.
From Animal Hospital to NYU
So, can you visit the scene of the crime? Yes and no. If you walk down West Fourth Street today, you won’t find Dr. Dovey’s hotel or the brick house next door. The Greenwich Village of the 1880s, built on what was once old Dutch farmland, has long since vanished.
In the 1950s and 60s, this entire area was redeveloped. The old buildings were torn down to make way for the expansion of New York University. Where Dr. Dovey's hospital once stood and where a little cat fell from the sky, you’ll now find Tisch Hall, part of NYU’s Stern School of Business, and the adjoining Gould Plaza.
The cat, thankfully, was expected to make a full physical recovery. But her attacker was never found. So next time you’re walking near Washington Square Park, take a stroll down West Fourth Street. Pause in front of Tisch Hall and look up. You’ll be standing on the very spot of one of New York’s strangest and most charming unsolved mysteries: the case of the cat who fell to Earth.
