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One otherwise
tranquil night marauders from Siam overran the temple of Lao-Tsun
and murdered Mun-Ha. Sinh stood up at once and planted his
front paws on Mun-Ha's head, facing the statue of Tsun-Kyan-Kse.
As Sinh stood over his fallen master, a wondrous transformation
occurred. Sinh's coat reflected the golden glow radiating
from the statue of Tsun-Kyan-Kse. His yellow eyes turned a
deep, sapphire blue; and his legs shone with a brown-velvet
radiance -- except for his feet, which remained sparkling
white, a symbol of the purity of Mun-Ha's soul. By the next
morning all the cats in the temple had been miraculously transformed,
too. The faithful Sinh remained at Mun-Ha's side for seven
days before joining his master in death.
In
Reality
As one
Birman breeder has observed, the legend of Sinh "fails to
explain the exact scientific origins of the Sacred Cat of
Burma." Unfortunately history doesn't do a much better job.
In all probability the soulmates that joined forces to create
the Birman were Siamese cats and longhair, bicolored Angoras.
The former contributed genes for blue eyes and dark markings
on the extremities, while the Angoras contributed genes for
long hair and white spotting that's confined to the feet and
hind legs. It is futile, however, to speculate whether the
Siamese-Angora combination -- if it was, indeed, the one that
produced the Birman -- was organized intentionally or whether
it resulted from the free-range mingling of those cats in
an isolated geographical setting. Whatever the Birman's parent
breeds might have been -- and wherever they might have fraternized
-- they had to have been carrying genes for point color, blue
eyes, low-grade white spotting and long hair.
Like the
legend of Sinh, accounts of the arrival of the first Birmans
in Western Europe begin with attacks on Burmese temples, this
time in the early 20th century. Many priests died in those
attacks, but others managed to escape to Tibet, taking some
of the temple cats with them.
Two Europeans
who were traveling in Asia at the time -- August Pavie and
Major Gordon Russell, a British officer -- were sent a pair
of temple cats in 1919 upon returning to France. Maldapour,
the male cat, did not survive the journey from Burma; but
Sita, the female, gave birth to kittens soon after arriving
in France. According to some versions of this story a temple
priest sent Maldapour and Sita to Russell because he had helped
several priests and sacred cats to escape from the temple
of Lao-Tsun into Tibet.
In a variation
on this theme a shadowy figure referred to as "a Mr. Vanderbilt"
obtained the sacred cats "for a price of gold" from a greedy
servant who had stolen them from the temple. Although neither
of these "histories" mentions what became of Sita after she
had delivered her kittens in France, it is reasonable to assume
that those kittens -- including a perfectly marked daughter
named Poupee -- were the foundation stock used to create the
Birman breed in France.
A third
account of the Birman's arrival in France was presented in
an article in the 1969 Cat Fanciers' Association Yearbook.
Verner E. Clum, the author of that piece, claimed to have
"a magazine dated 1927 Le Monde Felin, in which there
is a picture of a Mme. Marcelle Adam, first importer of [the
Birman] breed in France in 1925." Mme. Adam's cattery name,
incidentally, was Maldapour, and she was president of the
Federation Feline Francaise.
Clum's
research appeared to have settled the issue, but in her next
paragraph she recounted the Major Russell story without bothering
to say which of the two individuals -- Mme. Adam or Major
Russell -- was truly the first Birman importer. (In order
for Mme. Adam to merit that distinction, she had to have been
persuasive because in 1925, the year she is alleged to have
brought the first Birmans to France, the breed was recognized
for championship competition.)
Though
Birmans weren't prolific, they prospered well enough until
World War II. After the war, however, only a handful of Birmans
stood between the continued improvement of the breed and its
extinction. By dint of judicious outcrossing with other breeds,
the sacred cat was re-established in France by 1955. This
process was accelerated, one suspects, by the introduction
of colorpoint longhairs to Birman breeding programs.
The first
pair of sacred cats arrived in the United States in 1959.
By the mid-1960s the breed began to be accepted for championship
competition, and about that time its name was changed first
to Burman and then to Birman. Today the Birman is not only
recognized by every cat association in North America but also
ranks among the most popular cats. In 1998 the Birman was
ninth among the 37 breeds registered by the Cat Fanciers'
Association (CFA). The Birman's 896 new registrations that
year, however, represented an 11 percent decrease from the
preceding year. This decline mirrored that of pedigreed cats
across the board. Total CFA registrations fell 6 percent from
1997 to 1998 -- the eighth straight year that pedigreed registrations
have been in free fall.
The
Building Code
Lacing on the Gloves
The Birman
is a pointed breed -- one whose face, ears, legs, tail and
feet are a different color from the rest of its body. Like
other pointed cats, the Birman is identified by its point
color. A seal point Birman, for example, has a dark brown
face, ears and so on. A blue point Birman has a blue face.
Seal,
blue, chocolate and lilac (sometimes called frost) point Birmans
are accepted in all associations. Additional point colors
-- red, cream, tortie, lynx, etc. -- are accepted by some
but not all associations.
Besides
being pointed the Birman is a mitted cat, i.e., its feet are
white. They are not, however, white in any haphazard fashion.
The Birman's feet are categorically white, and the two categories
into which that white is divided are known as gloves, which
occur on all four feet, and laces, which are found only on
the hind feet.
The gloves
on the front paws should end in an even line that crosses
the paws at or between the second or third joints. (If you're
not intimately familiar with cats' feet, the third joint is
the place where the paw bends when the cat is standing.) What's
more the gloves should extend no farther than the metacarpal
(dew) pad, located midway up the back of the front paw, above
the third joint and just below the wrist bones. Of course,
"symmetry of the front gloves is desirable," the Birman breed
standard declares.
The gloves
on the back paws should cover the entire toe and may extend
somewhat higher than the front gloves. Symmetry, nevertheless,
should also be sought in the rear gloves.
The Birman's
back paws are also decorated with laces -- extensions of the
gloves that stretch partway up the back of the hock. Each
lace should end, symmetrically, in a point or inverted "V"
one half to three quarters of the way up the hock. Lower or
higher laces are acceptable, but in no case should they extend
beyond the hock.
Cats with
perfect gloves and laces are rare. Whether or not Birman breeders
assert that divine intervention played any role in the origins
of the Birman, they all acknowledge that divine intercession
is needed to come up with perfectly defined gloves and laces.
One cannot easily predict which kittens in a litter will pass
the white-gloves-and-laces test.
"Birmans
are born pure white," one Birman breeder explains. "The color
on the extremities comes in first. Then you wait for the gloves
and laces to appear. And you do a lot of praying." Which is
how, come to think of it, the Birman legend begins.
Personality
Profile
Although
Birmans are a placid, gentle race whose serenity rivals that
of the Dalai Lama, they are as capable as the next cat of
pulling the occasional caper -- wind surfing or spelunking
for example. Hershey, a wind surfing Birman, lives in New
Zealand with Ann and Robert Lang. One evening last January
their daughter's boyfriend left the Langs' house to attend
a fly-fishing course. He arrived at his destination a brisk
20 minutes later, got out of his car, and wondered why people
were staring at him. Then he heard a cat meowing. He turned
around and there was Hershey sitting on the roof of his Nissan
Patrol.
Hugo,
a spelunking Birman, lives in Kilwinning, Scotland, with Eileen
Kennedy, her 7-year-old son, Jack, and her 16-year-old daughter,
Laura. When a workman was laying new tiles in Kennedy's kitchen,
Hugo decided to have a look under the floorboards. His visit
was extended after the workman had replaced the floorboards,
trapping Hugo below deck.
When Kennedy
came home from work later that day, she sensed something was
wrong because Hugo wasn't there to greet her. Then she, Jack
and Laura heard Hugo meowing from under the floor. They went
into the living room, and the meowing followed them. They
stepped into the hallway, and the meowing did also.
Kennedy
called the workman at once. He rushed over and cut up the
kitchen floor with an electric saw. After he had made a large
enough opening, Kennedy called Hugo, "and all of a sudden
we saw this wee head pop up with big sad eyes."
As Hershey
and Hugo displayed in their adversities, Birmans possess a
wonderfully balanced temperament and an unruffled serenity.
Their intelligence and curiosity are wrapped in an endearing
sweetness. Their soft voice and delicate touch are tokens
of a self-possession that borders on the spiritual. If the
souls of departed priests do, indeed, return to this world,
there is no better breed to serve as their earthly host than
the Birman.
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