The Unlikely Legacy of a Hole in the Wall: Exeter’s Cat Flap and the Stories It Tells
What if I told you that one of the most fascinating historical artifacts in the UK isn’t a crown jewel or a medieval manuscript, but a simple hole in a door? Exeter Cathedral, a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, boasts many wonders, but its claim to fame as the home of the world’s oldest cat flap is both charming and deeply revealing. Personally, I think this quirky detail speaks volumes about human ingenuity, our relationship with animals, and the unexpected ways history survives in the present.
A Hole with a History
Let’s start with the facts: the so-called ‘cat flap’ at Exeter Cathedral isn’t a flap at all, but a hole carved into a door during a 16th-century refurbishment. Records show that carpenters were paid eight pence in 1598 to create this opening, likely to allow a cat access to the cathedral’s interior. What makes this particularly fascinating is the context behind it. In an era before pest control services, cats were the go-to solution for rodent infestations. The cathedral’s archives reveal that cats were even paid a weekly wage—one penny—to keep the rat population in check.
Here’s where it gets intriguing: this wasn’t just a practical measure; it was a systemic one. The cat flap was strategically placed beneath the astronomical clock, a marvel of medieval engineering. Why? Because the clock’s mechanism, lubricated with animal fat, attracted vermin like a magnet. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a brilliant example of early problem-solving. It’s also a reminder that even the grandest structures have mundane, often overlooked, challenges.
Cats, Clocks, and Nursery Rhymes
One thing that immediately stands out is the connection between Exeter’s cat flap and the beloved nursery rhyme Hickory, Dickory, Dock. Historians speculate that the rhyme’s origins might lie in the very clock that sits above the cat flap. The idea of a mouse running up a clock isn’t just poetic—it’s plausible. Diane Walker, Exeter Cathedral’s historian, notes that the animal fat used in the clock’s mechanism would have been a feast for rodents, making the presence of a cat essential.
What many people don’t realize is that this rhyme isn’t just a whimsical ditty; it’s a snapshot of medieval life. The clock, dating back to 1483, was a technological marvel of its time, displaying lunar phases and the calendar. Its chimes, paired with the striking of the Peter Bell, would have been a familiar soundtrack to daily life. The fact that a nursery rhyme might have emerged from this setting is both delightful and profound. It’s a reminder that history isn’t just about kings and battles—it’s also about the small, everyday details that shape culture.
The Broader Implications of a Cat Flap
This raises a deeper question: why does a hole in a door matter? In my opinion, it’s because it humanizes history. It shows us that even centuries ago, people were grappling with problems we still face today—pest control, workplace efficiency, and even animal welfare. The fact that a cat was paid a wage, albeit a small one, suggests a level of respect for its role in maintaining order.
From my perspective, this also highlights the role of animals in history. Cats weren’t just pets; they were workers, integral to the functioning of institutions like Exeter Cathedral. The cat flap is a physical testament to this partnership. It’s also a symbol of adaptability—both human and feline. After all, the cat had to navigate a new environment, and the cathedral had to find a way to let it in.
The Future of the Past
What this really suggests is that history is alive, not just in books or museums, but in the very fabric of our buildings. Exeter’s cat flap isn’t just a curiosity; it’s a conversation starter. It invites us to think about how we preserve and interpret the past. Are we focusing too much on grand narratives and not enough on the small, everyday details that make history relatable?
A detail that I find especially interesting is Diane Walker’s admission that there could be other, older cat flaps out there, undocumented and forgotten. This uncertainty adds to the charm. It’s a reminder that history is always incomplete, always open to reinterpretation.
Final Thoughts
Exeter’s cat flap is more than a hole in a door; it’s a portal to a different time. It tells us about the ingenuity of our ancestors, the importance of animals in human history, and the enduring power of storytelling. Personally, I think it’s a perfect example of how the past can surprise us, even in the most unexpected places.
If you take a step back and think about it, this little hole is a metaphor for history itself—small, often overlooked, but full of meaning. It’s a reminder that even the most mundane details can reveal profound truths. So, the next time you visit Exeter Cathedral, don’t just admire the architecture. Look for the cat flap. It’s not just a hole; it’s a story waiting to be told.
