Episode 29 – What’s New, Pussycat? – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 29 Show Notes

Source: European Folklore

This week on MYTH, it’s part three of our three part, lighthearted series on trickster animals. You’ll learn that your pet just isn’t pulling it’s weight, that lying will get you anything you want, and that being rich is better than being smart. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see that even a magical talking cat isn’t the most dangerous cat-related monster hanging around Italy. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 29, “What’s New, Pussycat?”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When I was reading the stories for our last episode, I couldn’t help but expect that the little hare of Inaba was going to pull some tricksy shit and help the kami Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto get his heart’s desire, and the blame for that expectation rests squarely on this week’s story. When you think of helpful trickster animals, Puss in Boots is probably right at the top of the list. It’s a well-known story, and has been adapted into many, many different stories including a manga from the famous Hayao Miyazaki, an episode of the Pokemon cartoon show (with Meowth as the titular Puss), and of course, the character in Dreamworks’ Shrek movie series, voiced by Antonio Banderas.
The oldest telling of the story comes from the Italian author Giovanni Francesco Straparola, who included it in The Facetious Nights of Straparola in 1550. It was published again in 1634 by Giambattista Basile and again at the end of the 17th century by Charles Perrault (a name we’ve heard before on this show). It also appears in one of the Grimm Brothers’ collections of stories, but the best known version is probably Perrault’s Il Gatto con gli Stivali, or The Cat with the Boots, and that’s the version we’ll be using here, although the names come from the Straparola version. Enjoy.
Once upon a time, there lived a miller in a small village in Italy. He was old, and he knew that he would die soon, so he called together his three sons to distribute all of his worldly possessions. The miller had never been a rich man, and this had never been a rich village, so there honestly wasn’t much to divide. Aside from his old clothes and boots (which no one was going to want), all he had in the world were his mill, his ass, and his pussy cat. He didn’t call a notary or a lawyer since this would be straightforward and besides, their fees would have eaten heavily into the already meager inheritance.
“My sons: I love you all dearly, and I am so proud of the men you have grown into. As I think you all know, I am dying. I’ve called you all here today to give you what I can when I pass on. I wish I had more to give you, because God knows you all deserve more, but times have been hard and I don’t. To my eldest son, Dusolino, I leave the mill that I have worked my entire life to build. May it be more fruitful for you than it has been for me. To my middle son, Tesifone, I leave my sturdy donkey. He is still young, and he has borne many heavy burdens for me for many the lonely mile. May he do the same for you for years to come. And to my youngest son, Constantino Fortunato (which means lucky Constantino in Italian), I am sorry that I have only my little pussy cat to leave you. He has done an excellent job of keeping the mill free of rats and mice, and he has been a steadfast companion to me. May he be yours as well.”
Once everything had been divided up, his three sons gathered around to sit with their father in his last hours. By nightfall, the old miller was gone, leaving his sons to fend for themselves. Understandably, the youngest son, Constantino, was more than a little pissed off about his inheritance. “This is some bullshit. Dusolino will be able to make a steady, comfortable living for the rest of his days off his mill, and Tesifone can at least rent out his donkey to make some money while he finds his feet (or team up with our older brother), but me? They don’t need me or the cat. I don’t have any skills except milling, and that’s no use without a mill (not that a town this small needs two millers anyhow).”
Something warm brushed against Constantino’s leg. He looked down to see his entire inheritance rubbing against him and then fucking off to clean itself. “I’m definitely not going to find a job in this shithole town, and I doubt I’ll be able to find work anywhere nearby before my pretty much nonexistent food runs out. Once I’ve eaten this pussy (which is the closest I’ll come to sex with a woman, since I’ll surely die a virgin) and made a scarf out of its fur, I’ll have nothing left. I’ll starve to death before the week is out. I am well and truly fucked, little cat.”
The cat stopped washing itself and stared unnervingly at Constantino. “You’re kind of creeping me out, little cat. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you understood what I just said about eating you.” “Then it’s a good thing that you know better, isn’t it?” Constantino let out a little scream and stumbled back. “Holy shit! You…you can talk! You can talk? How the fuck can you talk?” In some of the earlier version, this is because the cat is secretly a fairy in disguise, but the Perrault version just says fuck it, he’s a talking cat and you don’t need a goddamned explanation. “How I learned to talk isn’t important. Let’s just say I’m very good at catching small, quick things, and fairies make weird deals and leave it at that. Keep the whole me talking thing under your hat, okay? I don’t want some paranoid peasant deciding I’m possessed by the devil or some shit. I wouldn’t have told you about it, but I didn’t exactly want to end up dinner.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair. I wasn’t being entirely serious about eating you, I was just griping about the shit deal I got. Although, since you’re a talking cat, maybe I didn’t come out as bad as I thought.” “Honestly, Constantino? I think you got the best part of the bargain. I’ll prove it. You get for me a bag and a pair of boots made to my size, and I’ll do the rest.” “How am I supposed to get you custom-made boots? I don’t have any money!” “Right, right. I forgot. Well, your dad buried some money he forgot about out by the river. It’s not much, but it’ll buy those boots. I’ll show you.”
The cat headed off towards the river that drove the mill wheel, and a bemused Constantino decided to follow him. He wasn’t sure what a cat needed with a bag and a pair of boots, but he was curious. He seriously debated digging up the money and abandoning the cat, but he figure what the hell. He didn’t have any real prospects at the moment and besides, the cat had always been damnably clever. He’d seen it play dead for hours in the flour waiting for the rats to lose their fear. He’d even seen it cling to the wood beams overhead and drop on the unsuspecting mice like an avenging angel of death. Come to think of it, maybe he should have realized that there was something weird about this cat years ago. Either way, he figured that the cat was probably his best bet for getting out of poverty.
Wondering if he was going completely nuts, Constantino went to the cobbler and asked for a pair of tiny boots. The merchant gave the young man a strange look, but money talks, so he said he could have the boots ready by that night. They were small and easy to make, so it wouldn’t take long. While he waited for the boots, Constantino went to get a string bag for the strange kitty.
That afternoon, once he had everything he needed, Constantino brought the requested item to his cat and handed them over. “Alright, I got what you asked for, uh…what should I call you? Dad never actually bothered to name you.” “When you were younger, you used to call me Master Cat. I rather liked that. Let’s go with that.” “Okay, then. Here you go, Master Cat. I got the boots and the bag.” “Awesome. Wait here.”
The cat sat down and pulled the boots onto his hind legs and stood upright. He slung the bag over his neck and then headed out into the wild. He gathered bran and sow-thistles in his bag and then sniffed around until he found the faint trail leading to a rabbit warren. The smell of rabbit was thick on the ground; Master Cat knew that there were a lot of the fuzzy little fuckers around. The cat buried himself in the tall grass near the entrance to the warren and settled down to wait.
He expected to be there awhile, but he got lucky. A young kit, all shiny and dumb, came sniffing up to the goodies in the bag. Master Cat very carefully didn’t move a muscle as the little bunny hopped slowly into the open bag after the delicacies inside. As soon as the poor thing had cleared the neck of the bag, the cat yanked on the strings, sealing the bag. If you were hoping that this story was going to end happily for the bunny, then you’re not going to like the next bit. The cat held the bag tight until he could get his paws around the throat of the terrified little bunny. Being a cat, he debated toying with his prey a little, but he had a job to do, so he wrenched hard and broke the bunny’s neck with a sickening crunch.
There is an old proverb that says “a cat may look at a king.” It’s meant to say that even the humblest person has some freedom in their interactions with those in power, but Master Cat took it quite literally. He took the sack with the dead young rabbit to the royal castle that stood a conveniently close distance from the little village. Hey, it’s a fairy tale. If you accepted a talking cat, you can accept that the king lived a few hours walk from our hero because reasons.
Master Cat, being a cat (even if he was wearing little custom kitty boots), was able to walk right into the castle and into the king’s private rooms. He found the king alone, reading over the typical legal shit that a fairy tale king had to deal with on a day to day basis (I’m assuming appeals from the local nobles about rampaging ogres and complaints from the local fairy godmother’s guild). He looked up to see Master Cat enter, walking on his hind legs like a tiny man and carrying a sack. “Hullo there, puss puss! Where did you get those tiny boots? They’re adorable!” Now, even though he was a fairy tale king, he wasn’t expecting a response. He was just talking to a cute cat the way most normal people do.
Master Cat took the baby talk in stride. “They’re a gift from my lord, the Marquis of Carabas.” “The Marquis of Carabas?” In case you’re not up on your obscure nobility titles from the medieval period, a marquis was a nobleman ranking between a count and a duke (with duke being the highest rank before the royal court itself). Constantino had absolutely no claim to such a title, but the cat was planning a sneaky plan. He picked a title that was high enough to get the king’s attention, but just low enough that he might not be familiar with all the individuals holding that particular rank.
“Yes, your highness. He’s a very generous man. In fact, he has sent me here tonight with a gift for you, along with his duty to you as his liege!” With a grand flourish and a deep bow, the talking cat pulled the freshly killed rabbit out of the bag and presented it to the king. The beast looked plump and tender, and the king decided this was a fine gift. He’d send it down to the kitchen tonight to be prepared for a late supper. “Tell your master that I thank him and am pleased with his gift.” Truth be told, it was probably less the single rabbit than the fact that it was presented by a talking cat that impressed the king, but whatever does the trick, right?
Master Cat went back to Constantino and reported his initial success. “Okay, cool, the king likes this made up marquis, but I don’t understand how this is all supposed to play out.” “Don’t worry about it, dude. I got this.” A few days later, the cat went out again with his sack. He sniffed around and soon located a run used by partridges. He covered the bottom of the bag with tasty bird treats, propped it open, and hid himself under fallen leaves and brush. It took time, but eventually, a brace of partridges wandered along and found the bag of food. Cautiously, they explored the area, but they found nothing out of place. Satisfied, they filed in to eat, and the cat pounced on the sack and yanked it closed, trapping the birds inside.
Again, Master Cat went to the castle of the king. By this time, word had spread around the grounds of the incredible talking cat, so he presented himself to the guards and was quickly ushered into the king’s presence. “Another gift, sire! My master, the Marquis of Carabas, presents this to you with his fealty.” The cat outdid his previous bow with multiple grand flourishes and presented the freshly killed, plump birds. The king was again grateful at being given a succulent dinner (the rabbit had been delicious), and so he ordered that wine be brought for the cat, who he insisted must be thirsty after making the trek here again so soon.
For the next three months, the cat returned at uneven intervals to the king with fresh gifts of ever larger game. None of his other subjects had ever really given him any gifts, let alone dozens, and he began to find himself rather fond of this odd, reclusive marquis. On one trip, as the cat was bringing a tender lamb for the king (having “borrowed” it from a nearby shepherd), he saw that the castle was preparing for a trip of some sort. As always, he was quickly ushered into the king’s presence. “Good day, sire. I come with another gift from my master, the Marquis of Carabas. I can’t help but notice that things are rather…hectic at the moment. Are you planning a trip? Is there anything you need that I could help with?”
“There is a matter in one of the nearby villages that requires my attention. I expect that both parties to this particular dispute are going to prove difficult, so my daughter and I intend to leave early tomorrow morning so as to arrive before noon. I think my servants have everything well in hand, Master Cat, but if I think of anything you or your master could do to help, I will let you know.” The cat bowed low and exited the king’s presence with a grin on his face. He knew the town that the king had mentioned, and there was only one good road between here and there. He left the palace and set out on the road the king and the princess would take in the morning. He didn’t have to go more than a few miles from the palace before he found a likely spot for the plan that was percolating in his brain. He marked the place in his mind, then went a little farther on until he found a small village. Pulling a small sack of gold he had gotten here and there (selling his kills, gifts from the king, and simple thievery), he went to talk to the local peasants and headed back to find Constantino.
The young man was living at the only inn the small village had. He’d been able to eke out a meager living by selling some of what his strange cat managed to catch during his long forays into the wilderness. Constantino didn’t really understand what the cat was planning, but he was better off than he would have been on his own, so he was willing to do what the cat told him.
“Nothing for you to sell today. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. What do you know of the king?” “Um, not much. He’s never really been a figure in my life. I’m too poor to really care about the king. Let me think… I know he’s older now, and I know that his wife, the Queen, died years ago…in childbirth, I think. Yeah, definitely in childbirth because he has only one child, a daughter. She’s supposed to be absolutely beautiful. Some say she’s the most beautiful woman in the whole country. I think her name is Eliza, or something like that?” “Close enough. Her name is Elisetta. She’s the king’s only heir. She’s single, and the king is close to being ready to marry her off. If you do exactly as I say, I promise you that the king is going to marry her to you.”
“To me? Why would he do that? I’m just a poor miller’s son with almost nothing to my name.” “Yeah, don’t tell them that. I’ve been visiting the king’s palace for months now, and bringing them gifts from you, saying that you are the Marquis of Carabas. They’re very impressed with you (or at least, the you they’ve heard about). A princess won’t marry a poor commoner, but she can definitely marry a wealthy marquis.” “Yeah, but I’m not one. I don’t think they’re going to believe I’m a noble.” “Leave that to me, Master Constantino. If you do exactly as I say, we can make this happen. Do you trust me?”
The young man sighed. “I do, Master Cat. You’ve never led me astray, and you’ve kept me in food and shelter. Tell me what to do.” “Awesome sauce. Tomorrow, at dawn, you need to get up and follow me up the road to a bend in the river. There, strip butt-ass naked and get in the water to bathe and swim around. Stay there until I tell you otherwise. After that, just follow my lead. Capiche?” Constantino nodded. He understood what he was supposed to do tomorrow, even if he had no idea of why.
Even earlier than bright and early the next morning, Constantino groaned as he was awoken by his cat. The last thing he wanted to do was get up at this ungodly hour and go out into the chilly morning air to bathe in an icy river, but he trusted the cat. What was the worst thing that could happen?
They arrived at the river not long after dawn. Master Cat showed Constantino to a very specific part of the river, and Constantino stripped out of his well-worn peasant clothes and got in the water. The cat took the stained, smelly clothes and hid them under a large, heavy stone, then sat down to wait. About twenty minutes later, a faint rumbling could be heard coming down the road. “It’s showtime, Constantino. All you need to do is stay in the water and splash around a bit. I’ll do the rest. Can you swim?” “Not really. Why?” Without answering, the cat pushed him deeper into the water and Constantino went under. He came up spluttering and splashing desperately, trying to keep his head afloat.
As the royal carriage was starting to roll into sight of the river bend, Master Cat began to yell loudly, waving his tiny paws at the carriage. “Help! Help! The marquis is drowning! My master, the Marquis of Carabas is drowning! Oh, please help him!” The king heard the familiar voice over the rumble of the carriage wheels and stuck his head out of the window. Master Cat repeated his plea, and the king called for the driver to stop. The Marquis of Carabas had quickly become his favorite noble, and he decided that he couldn’t very well let him drown, especially before he had finally gotten to meet him in person.
The king directed one of his guards to get into the water and fish the naked and shivering marquis out of the water. His skin had gone slightly blue, and he was shivering painfully. “You’re freezing, my good man! Where are your clothes? We need to get you dressed and warmed up!” Master cat answered for Constantino, whose teeth were chattering too hard to speak. “Oh my liege! Some black-hearted brigands have made off with his clothes! He had come here to bathe in the brisk morning air, as he is wont to do, when he was set upon by a dozen armed roughians! He rushed out of the water to confront them, but there were too many of them, and they hurled him back into the water, and made off with his clothes and possessions! I tried to stop them, but I am only a little cat. I yelled ‘stop thieves!’ as loudly as I could, but to no avail.”
“Well this simply will not do! I can’t allow my best noble to freeze to death in the nude!” The king ordered the officers of his wardrobe to go and fetch one of his most dashing suits for the Marquis. Now, Constantino had always been a tall, handsome man, but being a dirty, unwashed peasant in ill-fitting clothes hadn’t been doing him any favors. In his new royal clothes, however, he looked every inch the marquis. The princess sat up and took notice. She’d been hearing about this rich, generous man for weeks now, and to meet him and find out that on top of that, he was sexy as fuck to boot was too much. He caught her looking him over and caught her eye with a surprisingly sultry stare, yet still tasteful, and she felt her heart go thumpety thump and felt her lady bits get all kinds of moist. She definitely had a crush on him.
The king wasn’t about to let the poor marquis walk back home (since his supposed horse had theoretically also been stolen by the imaginary robbers), and he insisted on having the marquis get into the carriage with him and his daughter (much to the delight of the two horny teens). Master Cat was delighted to see his plans coming to fruition. He probably dry-washed his tiny cat paws and made a scheming face. He hadn’t been invited into the carriage, which actually suited him just fine. He had more being clever to do.
He raced ahead of the slow-moving carriage along the only path that they could possibly be taking to reach the peasants he had spoken to the day before. “Hey guys! You want the rest of that gold I promised you yesterday? Then it’s showtime everybody! And remember, stick to the goddamned script. Otherwise, I will come back and slice each and every one of you to tiny ribbons as small as minced meat!”
The king fancied himself a man of the people. I mean, the guy tried at least. Well, sort of. As they drove along, he saw peasants out in the field mowing the grass with sickles, working in the fields, and other farm-y type stuff. “You, peasant! Who do you work for? Who’s land is this?” “My liege, we work for the Marquis of Carabas, and all of this is his land.” “Ah, so this is the land of the famous Marquis! I had no idea you lived so close, good sir! You have a very fine land, my friend.” Constantino, who wasn’t sure how his cat had pulled this off, rolled with it. “As you say, my liege. It has treated me well, and always yields an abundant crop, year after year.”
The cat, meanwhile, had again raced ahead of the carriage. He found another group of peasants reaping corn. He gave them the same promise and threat about minced meat (which is an older threat than you thought). As before, the king’s carriage rolled up to the peasants shortly after the cat left and he stopped to speak to them. Again, they told him that they worked for the Marquis of Carabas. The king continued along the road, with the cat running along the road ahead of them to bribe slash threaten the local populace into saying they worked for an imaginary marquis.
If you’re anything like me, you’re probably wondering at this point what exactly the cat’s endgame is here. He had scouted out this entire route, and he knew that it led to a stone castle. He also knew that in the castle lived a fearsome ogre. How the king himself didn’t already know this, especially since the castle wasn’t far from his own castle and they had to have looked into the route they were going to take, is beyond me. Somehow, though, he didn’t so just ignore the massive plot hole.
The ogre was fabulously wealthy, which is why he owned so much of the land that the king had been traveling through. Master Cat raced ahead of the royal carriage and went up to the castle to request an audience. “Why would Lord Ogre want to see you, little cat?” “Because the king is coming along the road, and he thought that it would be rude to pass through his lands, and so close to his castle, without even stopping to say hello. He wants to pay his respects and sent me to prepare the way.”
After being informed of the requested audience, the ogre, being the richest son of a bitch around, decided to be as polite as it was possible for an ogre to be. He invited Master Cat to sit down with him in the castle. They made some polite small talk for a bit before Cat maneuvered the conversation around to where he wanted it. “I have been told that you have the power of changing yourself into all kind of animals. The people say that you could, if you wanted, turn yourself into a lion or an elephant.”
The ogre smiled a toothy smile. “The people talk too much, but they’re right.” “Bullshit. No one can do that; it’s impossible! I mean, I am a talking cat, and you are an ogre, but shapeshifting? That’s clearly too weird even for this world.” “You doubt me? I’ll prove it! Behold, a lion!” Before his voice had even stopped echoing off the marble tiles, a lion stood over the cat, growling aggressively. In unfeigned fear, Master Cat scrambled back away from the much, much larger cat suddenly in front of him. He raced across the flagstone, boots slipping on the stone, and climbed desperately up one of the columns to safety.
The cat climbed to the very top of the column and crouched in the arch at the roof, panting and shaking. The lion stared at the miserable little kitty and shifted back to the ogre, laughing loudly. “You see, little cat? You should never doubt my abilities.” Seeing the ogre back in place of the lion, the cat cautiously climbed back down to the floor. “You were right, Lord Ogre. I should have believed you. I have heard other things from the people as well. They say that, in spite of your impressive and magnificent size, you can also turn yourself into the smallest animal, such as a mouse or a rat, but surely that can’t be true. I mean, sure you can change into a lion, but that’s pretty close to your normal size. There’s no way you can become super small. Mass can’t be destroyed like that.”
The ogre shook his head. “Didn’t you learn about doubting me little kitty cat? Watch and learn.” Before his voice had stopped echoing off the tiles, the ogre was gone, replaced with a tiny mouse scampering across the floor. Quick as thought, the cat pounced on the tiny mouse, breaking its back with a loud snap, and then eating it while it was still alive and trying to change back without benefit of its limbs. It’s tiny bones crunched under the cat’s teeth, and the lord ogre was no more.
No sooner had the ogre of the castle been dispatched than the king’s carriage pulled up to its gates. He figured, since everyone he had met had mentioned the Marquis of Carabas, that this must be his guest’s home. He wanted to see where this now famous marquis lived as well as to give him a chance to change into his own clothes. The cat heard the wheels rattling on the flagstones and rushed to drop the drawbridge. “My liege, my lord Marquis! Welcome to the castle of the Marquis of Carabas!” The king turned to the young Constantino, who didn’t understand even a little how he suddenly had a castle he didn’t know about. “I thought this might be your home, my dear marquis. It’s a very fine castle, and the lands around it are all amazingly well run and maintained! Could you perhaps show myself and the princess around your opulent home?”
The bemused marquis agreed to lead a tour of a building he had never before set foot in. The trio wandered the magnificent palace, coming across elegantly appointed rooms, winding staircases, and finally, a massive great hall. Conveniently enough, the ogre had been expecting some friends over today and so had prepared a lavish feast for them, which was laid out on the table. The friends, seeing the king’s personal carriage parked outside, decided to head back home. Their friend, the ogre, was clearly busy with other things, so they would just call on him some other day.
The meal was excellent, leaving the king and the princess even more impressed with the marquis than before. The princess’ crush had progressed into some version of fairy tale puppy love, and her father pretty much agreed with her. “My dear marquis, you are a very wealthy and powerful man, and good one to boot. I must confess that I wasn’t entirely honest with your cat servant before. I wasn’t out to settle a dispute, but to look for a husband for my lovely daughter. Honestly, though, I can’t imagine finding anyone half as worthy as you to join the royal family. That is, if you’ll consent to marry my daughter.” The marquis made several grand bows and happily accepted the king’s offer, proving that a talking cat can do anything he wants, and also that substance is absolutely meaningless. Just lie, threaten, and murder everyone in your path until you get what you want. In case you were wondering, the cat was himself made a lord and never again had to chase mice for his supper (although he still chased them from time to time for the sheer thrill of watching the life leave their eyes).
I love this story, even though it has one of the worst morals ever, ever. We really have absolutely no evidence that the ogre was a bad guy, other than the racist assumption that he must be because he’s an ogre, and there’s absolutely no way that a miller’s son with no training, experience, or even time spent outside of his tiny home village made a halfway decent ruler, but then, that’s government for you. So maybe there is a realistic moral here after all, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monster is the tatzelwurm.
Like a few of our Gods and Monsters entries so far, the tatzelwurm is a cryptid, considered by some, even today, to be a real, living being haunting the remote parts of the Alps. Also known as the stollenwurm (“tunnel worm”) in Switzerland, arassas in France, bergstutz (“mountain stump”), dragon of the mine-tunnels, or claw worm, this stubby lizard is anywhere from 1 to 7 feet long. It’s usually described as having two clawed forelegs, a serpentine body with no hind legs, and a cat-like face. As if that wasn’t weird enough, it has an extremely venomous bite and has been known to breathe poisonous fumes and, potentially, to have green blood that burns human skin on contact.
Stories of the creature date back to 1680, when a man named Johann Jacob Wagner encountered the creature high in the Alps, later describing the creature to the artist Johann Jakob Scheuchzer, who made copperplate illustrations of it in 1723. At the time, residents of the Barony of Altsax, Switzerland complained that their cows’ udders were being mysteriously sucked dry in the night. While exploring the mountains, Wagner and Thomas Tinner saw a 7 foot long, black-gray serpent with bristles running down its back. The townspeople banded together to kill the creature, and the cows suddenly had full udders again.
In another account, a man named Hans Fuchs supposedly saw two of the creatures, who frightened him so badly that he had a heart attack and died. But wait, you’re thinking; if he died of fright, how do we know he saw them? The story says that he somehow survived long enough to give a death-bed confession to his family of 7 foot long monsters with clawed paws and feline heads with razor sharp teeth. It sounds fishy to me, but you can judge for yourself.
There are several photographs of either the creature or its skeleton purported to exist, some as late as the 1960s, but all have been dismissed as hoaxes by the scientific community. There have been reports of the creature as recently as 2009, although the official explanation says that the dragons are actually rogue monitor lizards lost or set loose by their owners. There are even reports that in 2000, a tatzelwurm skeleton was found and donated to the Geneva Institute of Science, along with a monetary contribution, by an anonymous donor.
The tatzelwurm has a weird pop culture life, showing up in some unexpected places. It’s a villain on the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic show; it’s also appeared in the Secret Saturdays, both the show and the later video game; it even pops up in God of War, hiding out in the mountains, and has been known to frequent several other online and tabletop adventures.
Most people who believe in the monster believe it to be a previously unknown species of snake or lizard, possibly a salamander similar to a tiger salamander, living in the remote parts of the mountain slopes and hibernating through the harsh winters. My favorite conspiracy theory for the creature claims that the monster is some sort of rogue lab experiment gone wrong that escaped its prison (possibly killing evil scientists on the way out), although unless it can also time travel, this doesn’t explain how the creature was spotted centuries before genetic research was a thing. Either way, if you find yourself hiking in the Alps and you see a weird snake/cat monster out of a bad 1950’s horror flick, hold your breath and get the fuck out of there before you die from venomous breath, acid blood, sharp teeth, or razor claws that this absurdly dangerous monster can sling at you.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. I want to thank Jimmy for the review on iTunes. These reviews really help increase the show’s standing and let more people know it exists. I also want to thank everyone who came out to my panels at DragonCon. I had an absolute blast, and was touched at the wonderful turnout for the Mythology in Popular Culture panel. The con volunteers were recording the panel, so I’ll have to see if I can find and share the audio for everyone. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff, whom you can find on fiverr.com.
Next time, it’s off to Wales for a story based very, very loosely on history. You’ll learn that some babies are just prettier than others, that grain really can be bad for you, and that you should never let a squirrel fall in love with you. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll get to meet the spiritual ancestor of Sirius Black from Harry Potter. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.