March 22, 1832, is the date on which Goethe died. One of his early biographers relays this story which tells us about Goethe AND cats.
[His landlady had called Goethe to witness the amazing spectacle of her cat worshiping a bust Goethe kept of Jupiter, though the bust was to the landlady only, she thought, of some indeterminate deity]
Goethe inquired into the cause of her astonishment, [and] she answered, that her cat was worshipping it! She knew that her puss had as much sense as a Christian but this was really a miracle. "I hurried in, [Goethe said] and the sight was really strange enough— The cat had jumped on the table, and rested her paws on the breast of the god; she was just able, by stretching herself out, to reach his holy beard, which she kept licking with the greatest nicety, without allowing herself to be disturbed either by the exclamations of my landlady, or by my approach." Goethe left the good woman in her astonishment, though he conjectured, with considerable sagacity, that this singular piece of feline devotion had as little real devotion as his own morning devotion; and that 'some of the grease of the mould had attached itself to the beard of the bust, which puss (by the acuteness of her sense of smelling) had discovered, and was 'licking off.' Thus ends the merriest little story imaginable.
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