Yes, you read that right. Someone had mailed a cat.
This wasn’t just any package. On December 12, the mail clerks discovered a pretty little cat curled up inside a crate that had journeyed all the way from the village of Morrisville in Central New York. Sent via the Railway Mail Service, this tiny feline had traveled for hours by train before arriving in Brooklyn. Believe it or not, this was a real, albeit illegal, method of "special delivery."
Brooklyn’s Postmaster, Albert B.W. Firmin, was called over to inspect the unusual delivery. He found the cat to be unharmed but quite sleepy, likely exhausted from her bewildering adventure. The kindhearted clerks took her to the miscellaneous mail section, where Superintendent McCann gave her food and water, making her feel at home after her long trip. The intended recipients were promptly called and told to come pick up their precious, purring package.
While the story had a happy beginning, Postmaster Firmin was not amused. He quickly told the press that mailing live animals was strictly forbidden. "From the standpoint of kindness to animals," he declared, "no cat in a crate should be permitted transportation by this means.” He was adamant that theMorrisville post office should have simply adopted the cat rather than ship her along a U.S. postal route.
And as if a mailed cat wasn’t enough for one day, things were about to get weirder.
On the very same day, the post office received another bizarre package: four dead rabbits. It was surmised that a proud hunter had mailed them as proof of his skill. Postmaster Firmin, now thoroughly exasperated, was furious. He ordered his staff to find the owner immediately and reported both the cat and the rabbits to postal authorities in Washington, D.C., demanding disciplinary action. It was, suffice to say, a very strange day at the office.
The irony of the situation was that the Brooklyn General Post Office already had a robust team of feline employees. For years, post offices across the city relied on cats to protect the mail from rats and mice, who loved to chew on paper and the gum used on envelopes. These weren't just stray cats hanging around; they were considered official, furry members of the pest control staff!
Just a few years earlier, in 1922, a cat named Bill was celebrated as the champion mouser of the Flatbush Post Office. The Brooklyn General Post Office, too, had numerous cats on its payroll. This made the arrival of a crated, contraband kitty all the more puzzling to the staff, who were already well-supplied with four-legged coworkers.
The building where all this drama unfolded is a piece of New York history you can still see today. Before settling here, Brooklyn’s main post office was a bit of a nomad, bouncing between various rented shops and storefronts for nearly a century. Finally, in the late 1880s, the federal government decided Brooklyn deserved a proper, permanent home for its postal service.
The result is the magnificent structure standing at 271 Cadman Plaza East. Completed in 1891, this stunning Romanesque-Revival building is a fortress of granite that looks like it came straight out of a storybook. It’s one of the few historic buildings in the area that survived the massive urban renewal projects of the 1950s that created Cadman Plaza.
Designated a city landmark in 1966, the building still houses a post office, alongside federal courts and other government offices. So, next time you’re walking from Downtown Brooklyn toward the Brooklyn Bridge, take a moment to admire this grand old building. As you look at its stone façade, imagine the day in 1926 when its stately halls were filled with the sound of a tiny, unexpected meow—a charming reminder of the weird and wonderful stories hiding in every corner of New York City.
