Yes, you read that right. This isn’t a tall tale; it’s the 1894 story of Dan, the chonkiest, luckiest cat in the history of the FDNY.
A Cat of Staggering Proportions
Our story begins just before Thanksgiving in 1893 on the Upper West Side. Dan was a handsome, glossy-black cat who, according to newspaper reports, weighed a staggering 48 pounds. From nose to tail, he measured nearly three feet long. He was, for all intents and purposes, a small panther who loved to purr.
But disaster struck when his doting owner had to move into a smaller apartment. Knowing there was no way to fit a 48-pound feline in a tiny NYC flat, she did the only thing she could think of: she went to the police.
At the 24th Precinct station house on West 68th Street, a Sergeant Townsend listened to her predicament. He looked out the window at the brand-new firehouse for Engine Company 40 across the street and had a brilliant idea. He called over Assistant Foreman Francis Casey and presented Dan as the perfect housewarming gift for the new fire station.
An Adoption Gone Wrong
Foreman Casey, a seasoned firefighter, was delighted. But when he bent down to pick up his new mascot, things went south. Fast. Dan, perhaps startled by the new face, dug his claws into the foreman’s hair and held on for dear life.
Panicked, Casey ran across the street into the firehouse, waving his arms with a giant cat attached to his head. Inside, a carpenter was working on the ceiling, having just removed a board to install a new steam pipe.
Just then, the fire alarm bells began to clang. Horses jumped, men shouted, and chaos erupted. As Foreman Casey rushed to his engine, Dan saw his chance. He sprang from the foreman’s head, launched himself through the open hole in the ceiling, and vanished.
The engine roared out of the station, the doors closed, and the new mascot was gone. When the crew returned hours later, there was no sign of the 48-pound cat. The next day, the carpenter finished installing the steam pipe and sealed the hole, unknowingly entombing Dan in the ceiling.
The Ghost of Engine 40
For 33 agonizing days, Dan was trapped between the floors. Down below, the firefighters of Engine 40 started getting spooked. They heard strange, eerie cries coming from the walls and ceiling. The more superstitious among them were convinced their brand-new firehouse was haunted.
Luckily for Dan, the new steam pipe wasn't working correctly. On Christmas Eve, a work crew was called back to fix it, leaving the ceiling hole open once more.
That night, Foreman Casey was standing directly under the opening when he heard a noise that sounded like a baby crying. He looked up and saw two bright, glowing orbs staring back at him from the darkness.
“It’s a ghost!” one fireman shouted.
“Meow,” came the weak reply.
“Worse than ghosts!” Casey exclaimed. “It’s Dan the cat!”
As the men watched in disbelief, a creature began to squeeze its way out of the tiny hole. It was Dan, but he was unrecognizable. The once-massive cat was now a skeleton. As one reporter wrote, “The glossy coat was ragged rough; the bright eyes were dim and glassy. Forty of the forty-eight pounds had gone. The ribs stood out like stripes on a zebra.”
A Christmas Miracle
The firefighters sprang into action. Casey gently carried the now 8-pound cat to his cot and called for a doctor. Dr. Milligan arrived and prescribed a treatment of milk and brandy, administered by the dropperful.
For days, Dan was nursed around the clock. The firehouse’s other two cats, Nell and Pete, stood guard, gently licking his fur and helping to keep him warm. Slowly but surely, the little cat began to recover. By New Year’s Day, he was strong enough to sip tea from a cup.
After a small relapse, Dan made a full recovery, his miraculous survival making him a New York City legend. He had survived one day for every inch of his original length, becoming the incredible shrinking cat of Engine Company 40.
From Firehouse to High-Rise
Dan’s adventure took place at 153 West 68th Street, in an area that looks nothing like it did in 1893. Back then, the Upper West Side was almost rural, a far cry from the bustling neighborhood we know today. The original firehouse where Dan got stuck was eventually torn down and is now the site of the Dorchester Towers, a large apartment building.
But the story of Engine Company 40 doesn’t end there. Today, you can find them—along with Ladder Company 35—in a modern firehouse at 131 Amsterdam Avenue, right by Lincoln Center. So next time you’re on the Upper West Side, stroll by and tip your hat to the home of New York’s bravest. And now you’ll know the secret story of their most famous feline resident: Dan, the cat who came back from the brink, forty pounds lighter.
