Pets’ contributions to literature are often overlooked. Let’s not forget Toby, the Irish Setter, whose arguably pivotal role in the creation of John Steinbeck’s renowned novella ‘Of Mice and Men’ remains largely unspoken of. It was the month of May in 1936. Steinbeck, having invested two months into his book, made the serious mistake of leaving the youthful Toby and the solitary copy of his manuscript unsupervised.
Upon his return, Steinbeck was confronted with the shocking sight of Toby having torn apart half of his carefully written work. The author, in a letter to his editor Elizabeth Otis, admitted to feeling irate, but ultimately reasoned Toby’s destructive act might have been critical. Heartrendingly, he was left unsure of the quality of his book.
Undeterred, Steinbeck began his work afresh, and ‘Of Mice and Men’ eventually earned a place on school syllabi for generations to come. Poor Toby, on the other hand, received a stern rebuke using a flyswatter – his punishment for assisting the author, albeit indirectly, in writing a superior book.
Karl Ove Knausgaard, a Norwegian novelist, seemingly ignored Steinbeck’s story when he questioned, in a New Yorker article a few years back, if any accomplished author had ever owned a dog. While acknowledging Virginia Woolf’s dog ownership, he dismissively stated that her dogs were too petite and cuddly to truly frighten anyone.
The memory of a neighbour’s dog instilling fear in him as a child likely shaped his opinion. Interestingly, Knausgaard acquired a dog for his daughter, and observed that during the two years of owning the pet, he did not pen a single line of literary prose, declaring that possessing a dog, in some manner, interfered with his writing.
Contrastingly, the pets of E.B White, author of ‘Charlotte’s Web’ and ‘Stuart Little,’ had a positive impact on his work, with many of them making appearances in his books. Accused of not owning a dog license, White penned a clever letter to the authorities detailing why his dachshund could not simply phone them: the phone was out of its reach, and even if it wasn’t, the dog had no interest in fielding external calls.
It’s common knowledge that authors gravitate towards cats as companions, the creatures’ independent nature possibly helping avoid manuscript-shredding mishaps. The legendary Ernest Hemingway, behind his bravado, had a tender spot for felines, with his collection ranging from twenty to fifty cats, depending on the source you reference. His furry friends would saunter around the dining area, drinking from glasses, which raised considerable hygiene issues, although this did not deter his dinner guests.
WB Yeats, a renowned figure in our nation’s literary field, also had an intriguing interaction with felines. His daughter, Anne, narrated to scholar and Yeats aficionado Wayne K Chapman about the family’s exceedingly lethargic and pale feline. The cat remained by the poet’s side during his recuperation from a malady.
Yeats’ daughter elaborated, “The cat enjoyed sharing the bed with him, following a series of owners who were confined to bed, favouring a sedentary existence”. The cat was noticeably unsettled when Yeats returned to health. As she told, “Once Father became healthier, the cat turned despondent and started leaping out of the windows until it was gifted to a visually impaired sculptor.”
The feline consented to revert to its leisurely lifestyle and Yeats found storytelling inspiration from this incident.
However, in the realm of writers’ pets, Lord Byron absolutely takes the cake – more specifically, the canine biscuit. The classic British verse-maker, during various life phases, had owned an eclectic variety of pets, including monkeys, goats, a crocodile, eagles, horses, and badgers, so his desire to take a pet to Cambridge during his tenure didn’t come as a shock.
Opting for simplicity, he chose to bring his beloved dog, which unfortunately was against the rules and seemed to close the case. But not for audacious Byron, who arrived with a bear as a pet. Given there were no rules in the books against bears, he was allowed to keep his unconventional pal until his graduation.
Lord Byron was often seen gallivanting around the campus with his bear on a leash. Balancing his notorious romantic conquests while housing a bear undeniably raises eyebrows. But considering there aren’t any reports of his amorous pursuits being disrupted by a disgruntled bear, it can be inferred that all parties involved managed to maintain an amicable coexistence.