Kathryn Hughes writes about the lives of Victorian London's "cat's meat men," who sold cheap meat to pet owners. This took place during a time when public attitudes toward cats were shifting—from being seen primarily as rat catchers to becoming beloved domestic companions. The trade, however, sometimes also carried darker undertones, with suspicions about the source of the meat and its possible connection to events like the Jack the Ripper murders.
Within minutes of the cat’s meat man embarking on his circuit, the barrow would be surrounded by felines, some of whom had perfectly good homes to go to and others who did not but still hoped that a sliver of flesh might fall their way. Although there were plenty of grim jokes circulating about how cat’s meat men supplied the toughest meat they could get away with, the fact was that many of these rough diamonds were known for their tender hearts. It was not unusual to spot a cat’s meat man slipping scraps to the hopeful strays that wound around his ankles. He was their guardian, their special friend. Sometimes he could even bring about fairy-tale transformations: no less a lady than the Duchess of Bedford had recently adopted a stray that had been rescued by her local London cat’s meat man.