Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched The World

I can see now, in hindsight, that Dewey’s escape was a turning point, a last fling at the end of youth. After that, he was content with his lot in life: to be the cat in residence at the Spencer Public Library, a friend, a confidant, and a goodwill ambassador to all. He greeted people with new enthusiasm. He perfected the fine art of lounging in the middle of adult nonfiction, where he could be seen from the whole library, but where there was plenty of room for people to walk without stepping on him. If he was in a contemplative mood, he would lie on his stomach with his head up and his front paws crossed casually in front. We called this his Buddha pose. Dewey could zone out in that pose for an hour like a fat little man at peace with the world. His other favorite position was to sprawl out full on his back, wide open, his paws sticking out in four directions. He went completely slack, letting it all hang out.

It’s amazing how, when you stop running and start sprawling, the world comes to you. Or if not the world, then at least Iowa. Soon after the Shopko contest, Dewey was the subject of Chuck Offenburger’s Iowa Boy column in the Des Moines Register. Iowa Boy was one of those columns that said things like, “It was the most shocking piece of news I’d come across since the time a few years ago I found out the Cleghorn Public Library, just down the road a ways, had started checking out cake pans to its patrons.” In fact, that’s exactly what the column said, and yes, the Cleghorn Public Library, just down the road, does check out cake pans to patrons. I know at least a dozen libraries in Iowa with extensive cake pan collections. The librarians hang them on the walls. If you want to bake a special cake, for instance, a Winnie the Pooh cake for a child’s birthday party, you go to the library. Now, those are librarians who serve their communities!

When I read the article, I thought, “Wow, Dewey’s really made it.” It was one thing for a town to adopt a cat. It was even better for a region to adopt that cat, as northwest Iowa had with Dewey. The library received visitors every day from small towns and farms in surrounding counties. Summer residents of the Iowa lake country drove down to meet him, then spread the word to their neighbors and guests, who would drive down the following week. He appeared frequently in the newspapers of nearby towns. But the Des Moines Register! That was the daily newspaper in the state capital, which had a population of almost 500,000. The Des Moines Register was read all over the state. More than half a million people were probably reading about Dewey right now. That was more people than attend the Clay County Fair!

After Iowa Boy, Dewey started making regular appearances on our local television newscasts, which originated out of Sioux City, Iowa, and Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Soon he began appearing on stations in other nearby cities and states. Every segment started the same way, with a voice-over: The Spencer Library wasn’t expecting anything more in their drop box than books on a freezing January morning. . . . No matter how they framed it, the picture was the same. A poor feeble kitten, almost frozen to death, begging for help. The story of Dewey’s arrival at the library was irresistible.

But so was his personality. Most news crews weren’t used to filming cats—there were thousands of cats in northwest Iowa, no doubt, but none ever made it on camera—so they always started out with what seemed like a good idea: “Just have him act natural.”

“Well, there he is, sleeping in a box with his tail hanging out and his stomach oozing over the side. That’s as natural as it gets.”

Five seconds later: “Maybe he can jump or something?”

Dewey always gave them what they wanted. He jumped over the camera for a flying action shot. He walked between two displays to show his dexterity. He ran and jumped off the end of a shelf. He played with a child. He played with his red yarn. He sat quietly on top of the computer and stared into the camera, the model of decorum. He wasn’t showing off. Posing for the camera was part of Dewey’s job as publicity director for the library, so he did it. Enthusiastically.

Dewey’s appearance on Living in Iowa, an Iowa Public Television series that focuses on issues, events, and people in the state of Iowa, was typical. The Living in Iowa crew met me at the library at seven thirty in the morning. Dewey was ready. He rolled. He jumped between the shelves. He walked up and put his nose on the camera. He stuck right by the side of the host, a beautiful young woman, winning her over.

“Can I hold him?” she asked.