First things first: Mike, the mother of many kittens, was a female cat. Why the name? No one knew, but she had purred her way into the hearts of every clerk at the post office. She was family. So you can imagine the panic when, on March 14, 1895, Mike vanished.
The Cat Is (Literally) in the Bag
Believe it or not, cats ending up in mailbags wasn’t unheard of in old New York. There was Kelly, a cat who famously survived eight days sealed in a mail sack on a ship from England. But Mike wasn't just any cat; she was a Post Office cat. She should have known better than to nap in a mailbag!
Her accidental journey began at the Williamsburg Post Office, then known as Station W, located on the corner of Bedford Avenue and South 5th Street. That day, a sack of newspapers destined for a foreign port was sent from Williamsburg to the General Post Office in Manhattan.
As clerks in Manhattan prepared the mail for its next journey across the Atlantic, a clerk named A.J. Eamley heard faint, pathetic “meows.” He followed the sound to a large newspaper bag from Station W. When he opened it, a very confused and disheveled black and white cat jumped out. It was Mike.
Now, this was a federal issue. Sending live animals through the mail was illegal, so this couldn't just be brushed aside. What followed was a wonderfully bureaucratic, and frankly adorable, paper trail.
A Flurry of Feline-Focused Memos
Clerk Eamley filed a formal report to the Postmaster of New York, Charles Willoughby Dayton. His message was short and to the point: “I have to report that a live cat was forwarded to this office in a sack of newspapers under the accompanying label.”
Postmaster Dayton read the report and scribbled his own note to a superintendent: “Evidently this has been missent.”
The superintendent promptly replied, demanding answers: “What information can be furnished by your office regarding the missending of this cat?”
The inquiry was forwarded to the Williamsburg Post Office, where Superintendent Francis A. Morris finally solved the mystery. He realized the runaway feline was their beloved Mike. While all this official correspondence was flying back and forth, Mike herself was having a pretty good time, feasting on milk provided by the Manhattan clerks and napping in a sunny spot on the mailroom floor.
Superintendent Morris sent back a heartfelt, and slightly sheepish, explanation:
“This inquiry relates to our office cat, a highly prized animal. She was of an inquiring turn of mind and happened to be in the foreign paper sack at the time of dispatch… We will very cheerfully pay all expenses incurred by the present custodians for board, maintenance, etc., if they will return her in good condition to this office.”
The request went up the chain of command, and permission was granted. Postmaster Dayton sent a final, satisfying directive: “I have to inform you that the cat has been returned by special messenger free of all charges.”
A Hero's Welcome
Mike returned to Williamsburg a hero. Her home office was overjoyed, and Superintendent Morris sent one last thank you note to Manhattan, reporting, “The cat came back in an improved condition. Please convey… my most sincere thanks for the courtesy shown this office.”
Upon her return, a new rule was immediately put in place: extra care must be taken to ensure the office cat was not accidentally shipped abroad again. The clerks noted that Mike seemed to be much more careful about where she chose to nap from then on. She had used up one of her nine lives on an adventure to the big city, and that was quite enough.
Williamsburg: Then and Now
So, where did this all happen? If you’re visiting Williamsburg today, you can stand right where Mike’s story unfolded. Her post office was at the corner of Bedford Avenue and South 5th Street, an area that has changed dramatically since the 1890s.
Back then, the post office was a one-story domed building across from a grand hotel. But at the turn of the 20th century, that entire block was demolished to build the approach for the Williamsburg Bridge. The very building where Mike the cat took her fateful nap was razed to make way for the iconic bridge that defines the neighborhood today.
The Williamsburg Post Office itself moved several times over the years, but it’s the story of its most famous four-legged employee that has lasted for more than a century.
So next time you’re walking or biking across the Williamsburg Bridge, take a look down at the bustling streets near Bedford Avenue. Imagine a little black and white cat, narrowly escaping an overseas voyage, and the dedicated postal workers who moved mountains of paperwork to bring their beloved pet safely home. It’s just one of the thousands of curious, charming stories that make New York City’s history so special.
