British Shorthair

The British shorthair looks exactly as if someone had brought to life the most respectable teddy bear in the shop — a round face, round eyes, a coat so dense and springy that your hand sinks into it up to the wrist. And precisely for that reason, the first encounter with its character tends to be a small surprise: this bear is not for carrying around. The Briton loves its family with its whole self, only in the British manner — it will sit beside you, not on you. Always in the same room, always within eyeshot, always a step closer than it officially seems to think. Affection, yes, but without making scenes.

This reserve, by the way, has a very old lineage. The British shorthair's ancestors sailed to the Isles on Roman ships — as professional guardians of granaries and holds — after which they stayed there for a good two thousand years, over which they soaked up the local way of being. The result? When in 1871 the first cat show in history took place at London's Crystal Palace, it was the Briton that was its star: solid, dignified, perfectly composed. And that round face of its with its eternal half-smile passed into literature — supposedly it was the British cat that was the prototype of the Cheshire Cat from “Alice in Wonderland.” Watching yours soundlessly dissolve behind the sofa, leaving behind it only the impression of a smile, it is hard to have doubts.

In daily life this gentlemanly nature reveals itself in the details. Picked up in your arms, it stiffens politely like a lord pulled out of his favorite armchair mid-sentence — and set down, it throws you one eloquent look, smooths an imaginary tailcoat, and sits half a meter away. Of its own will, which is here the essential difference. It dispenses feelings in strictly measured portions: one head-bump in the morning, one deep, velvety purr in the evening — and that, please remember, is its version of a love letter. Guests it treats with the polite distance of an ambassador: it will receive them, appraise them, and then return to its own affairs, that is, to a dignified seating at its observation point.

There is, however, in this British reserve some fine print worth knowing: loyalty to the end. The Briton does not need to follow you step by step, because it knows exactly where you are anyway — it is you who may not notice that over the whole evening it has not once taken its eyes off you. And when a truly worse day comes, it will not put on a great performance. This distinguished gentleman will simply appear without a word, settle heavily at your side, and stay — exactly as long as needed. Affection on one's own terms has this advantage: that when it does come, it is sincere to the last hair.

And here we reach the matter in which this gentleman really needs your firmness: the bowl. The Briton is a cat of low activity and a massive, round build, on which excess weight can hide for months — and at the same time a breed predisposed to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM), a heart disease that every excess kilogram additionally burdens. Plainly put: with it, roundness is a type of beauty, not a state of health, and “teddy bear” is not an excuse.

Because the British cat is a companion for a really long time — with good care it can be with you for as much as twenty years. Two decades of the calm, velvety presence of someone who will never make noise around its love, and yet who every evening will be found exactly where you are.

So take care of its heart and its silhouette — and it will take care of the rest. And one day, looking at the armchair from which it has just soundlessly vanished, you will understand Carroll better than many a literary scholar: after a good cat there really does remain a smile in the air. Yours will be leaving one all over the house — for twenty years.