COLETTE remembers with emotion her female serval from Chad, Bâ-Tou.

Sidonie Gabrielle Colette , known as COLETTE (1873.1954)

Signed autograph letter.

Two quarto pages on blue paper. Autograph envelope.

Paris. [August 3, 1944 according to postmarks].

"A purebred wild animal, from Chad, with its untouched wild nature, a marvel that had no domesticated ancestors."

Colette fondly remembers her female serval from Chad, Bâ-Tou, which Philippe Berthelot had given her in 1921.

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" It wasn't a cat, but a beautiful little wildcat , as big as a hunting dog, that your uncle gave me. A purebred wildcat, from Chad, with its wild nature intact, a marvel with no domesticated ancestors. If only I could have kept it! It was a magnificent 21-month-old female. She scratched the sawdust dish like a clean cat. In its country of origin, these charming wildcats eat sheep. Anything that smelled even slightly of wool drove her wild. If I find a duplicate photograph of her, I'll give it to you. You can come and see me later, God willing. I'm currently undergoing rather harsh treatment with deep injections. And I'll sign whatever pleases you. You belong to a family so dear to me . Tell 'Aunt Helen' [H. Berthelot] that she remains, for me, the very epitome of the perfect friend." Everything about her is perfect; her grace, her character, with a firmness she conceals. Tell her a thousand tender things from me, and believe me, sir, yours very cordially. Colette

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There's no need to elaborate further on Colette's love for cats. Let's simply recall this other memory Colette had of Bâ-Tou:

« She raised her eyebrows at the sight of me, jumped to the ground, and began her wild-cat-like stroll from door to window, from window to door, with that way of turning and changing feet, against the obstacle, which belongs to her and all her brothers. But her master threw her a crumpled ball of paper, and she began to laugh, with an enormous leap, an expenditure of her unused strength, which showed her in all her splendor. She was as large as a spaniel, with long, muscular thighs attached to a broad loin, a narrower forequarters, a rather small head, topped with white-furred ears, painted on the outside with black and gray designs reminiscent of those that decorate the wings of twilight butterflies. A small and disdainful jaw, whiskers as stiff as the dry grass of the dunes, and amber eyes framed in black, eyes with a gaze as pure as their color, eyes that never wavered in the face of human gaze, eyes that never lied… One day, I wanted to count the black spots that embroidered her coat, the color of wheat on her back and head, ivory white on her belly; I could not.

“She comes from Chad,” her owner told me. “She could also be from Asia. She’s probably an ounce. Her name is Bâ-Tou, which means ‘the cat,’ and she’s twenty months old.”