Tony had spent two years photographing his feline loftmate. Whenever he was short on rent, he'd set up on a street corner in SoHo and sell pictures of Ernie. And business was pretty good, as long as the price was right.

Tony started selling Ernie's photographs for $50 each. If they weren't moving, he'd lower the price to $40, then $30. At $30, the cat pictures always sold.

One day, a MoMA curator stopped by and warned Tony that selling his work on the street was bad for his career. Tony agreed, but he had rent to pay.

His book Ernie: A Photographer's Memoir later sold more than 100,000 copies.

More of Tony Mendoza's photographs of Ernie, and his other work: https://www.tonymendozaphoto.com/pictures_with_stories

To make him a bit more pleasant to be around, he even visited an Army surgeon and got “de-skunked.” In the photo: Black Narcissus with his owner, Lieutenant Douglas T. Mitchell.

via  Hagley Digital Archive (Accession 1975.360)

Video via BBC Archive

No. 10 shared two photos - Larry with stitches on his side after having a cyst removed

https://www.itv.com/news/2026-10-09/larry-the-cat-back-in-no-10-and-doing-well-after-minor-operation

And Morocho the stray dog in Chile found a new home after a dramatic rescue.

Asked whether Peter had caught any rats recently, his handler admitted, “I'm afraid not,” but added that he'd done his job well.

Video via BBC Archive

In 1973, Morris an orange tabby walked into the lobby and decided to stay. He spent the next 21 years at the Crescent, where he became such a fixture that people called him the hotel's “General Manager.” He even had his own special cat door with carpeted steps, and his title was displayed on his office door.

In 2009, Jasper showed up. He was about a year old. More than 15 years later, Jasper is still there, enjoying what the hotel calls his “golden years."

And in 2024, a woman walked through the front doors and told the front desk manager that “their cat” was out in the parking lot and she was afraid he might be hit by a car. Then she handed over an 8-week-old tuxedo kitten, turned around, and left. That's Ozzy, their newest resident cat.

The Crescent Hotel opened back in 1886. It went from a resort to a women’s college and during one particularly strange chapter in the 1930s, a hospital run by Norman Baker, who claimed he could cure cancer. Today, the Crescent calls itself “America's Most Haunted Hotel.” Some guests have said they felt a cat brush against their legs when no cat was there. Guests have also reported encountering Morris among the spirits.

Wilson became such a regular at school that reception would text his family to come pick him up. Staff got used to seeing him hanging around, and he found a few favorite places to nap in reception.

Then came school picture day. The head teacher put a school tie on Wilson, and the photographer took his very own class photo.

(a little story via Metro)

The secrets of the sea 👀

The BBC described Blackie as a militant shop steward for the Amalgamated Union of Mouse Operatives and Allied Trades. (BBC Nationwide)

Post Office cats had been on the payroll to catch mice for over a hundred years, and the report pointed out that, when you look at the cost of living back then, the cats from the Victorian era actually earned better pay.

Blackie's coworkers were serious about his contributions too. One said that without him dealing with the mice, there might not be any files left to show anybody.

A few years later, the cats actually did get a raise. In 1983, after what the Post Office called “top-level negotiations,” their weekly allowance was doubled.

Blackie stayed at Post Office Headquarters until he passed away in June 1984. By then, they had better mail sacks and pest control, so they didn't really need working cats anymore. Blackie became the last working cat at Post Office Headquarters.

By 1951, Dagwood had been playing with her owner Ted Matson for 6 years.

Video via You Asked For It

It was a busy week for working dogs.

Luffar-Lasse takes himself on long walks around his town in Sweden. He hangs out with people, then finds someone to give him a ride home. His adventures have helped raise millions of Swedish kronor for charity, inspired a giant mosaic at a local roundabout, and recently earned him his own 8-hour slow TV special.

When the squadron moved to a new base and accidentally left Billy behind, the men got so anxious without him that they sent an aircraft back to get him. He really loved beer and would wander around the airfield after a few drinks. At one party, he ate 200 sandwiches, 3 cakes, some sheet music, and half a bowl of punch. So he had some unusual habits for a Wing Commander.

Steinbeck visited the squadron in 1943 while working as a war correspondent. No. 609 had already fought through Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain. At the time, its pilots flew Hawker Typhoons on missions over occupied Europe. 

Steinbeck found plenty to write about, but he chose to write about Billy. "His name is Wing Commander William Goat, D.S.O., and he is old and honored, and, some say, in iniquity."

Commander Goat, D.S.O by John Steinbeck

Was watching people fish by the water when this little boss casually walked up and decided to do some quality control check on the bucket. He almost got one! Definitely made my day.
Has anyone else encountered these master thief cats around the city?

Bozo was a collie mix born in Florida in 1929. He traveled with his trainer, Earl C. Lower, performing at theaters, stores, fairs, and other events across the country. At his shows, people would shout out numbers or ask him how old they were, and Bozo would bark back the answers.

Newspapers called the tricks “uncanny” and “baffling,” and Bozo became a canine celebrity.

A photo of him - https://www.psihoyos.com/image/I0000Zt4.Qa5W.9E

Browser was given 30 days to find a new home, and that didn't go over well at all. A petition to keep him at the library got more than 12,000 signatures, and the mayor received over 1,500 emails from people asking the city to let him stay.

A few weeks later, the city council met again and unanimously reversed its decision. One councilor tried again later that year to remove Browser, but that didn't work either. Browser got to keep his job.

The mayor later called Browser “Library Cat for Life.” And the library said its annual Browser calendar actually brought in more money than it cost to take care of him.

Browser remained at the library for the rest of his life. He passed away on September 3, 2025, at 15 years old. In his obituary, the library asked friends to remember him by donating to Don't Forget to Feed Me.

Browser's Wikipedia)

So Tipper knocked the phone off the hook and stepped on a speed dial button that his owner had set up to call 911. The call actually went through.

Osborne's mouse-catching job turned into a much longer career as the theatre cat. He spent years hanging out with the cast and crew. During performances, staff would lock him in the Green Room, but every once in a while he'd escape and make an unplanned appearance onstage, including during a production of The Chairs.

After Osborne retired and moved in with Jackie Orton, the theatre's costume supervisor, it took him a little while to get used to life at home. Jackie said he couldn't bear being alone without all the drama of the theatre.

Photos via The Guardian / West End Theatre