Top 9 Strangest Pets and Owners in History
Most people have a pet nowadays, be it a dog, cat, gerbil, guinea pig, or a goldfish. But how would you like a polar bear? Perhaps a cheetah? Or maybe you’d prefer a horse you make a politician? For some people in history, this is exactly what they wanted as a pet, and some went to enormous lengths to make them comfortable too. Here is a list of the top nine strangest pets and pet owners in history.
№ 9: Pope Leo X’s Elephant, Hanno
Nobody in Italy had seen an Elephant since the fall of the Roman Empire in the 400s. But in 1514, the streets of Rome were packed as a ‘white’ elephant paraded its way to the Vatican.
The Indian Elephant’s name was Hanno, and it was a gift to the newly-elected Pope Leo X (pope from 1513–1521) from King Manuel I of Portugal. Whilst it was traditional for rulers to give presents to a new pope, Manuel also had a political agenda behind such an enormous gift. In the early 1500s, Portugal’s naval empire was growing in the Indian Ocean, but Manuel needed the Pope’s money to expand his navy and his blessing for more expansion. In order to charm the new pope into giving him these, Manuel sent a gold chalice, a cheetah, leopards, parrots, and Hanno.
So eager were Italians to catch a glimpse of this exotic curiosity on its 70-mile march to Rome that his caravan would be joined by workers from the towns, peasants, and gentlemen; noblemen even tried to convince the elephant’s handlers to take a detour to their castles so they could be exhibited their first. Upon arrival in Rome, Hanno walked through the streets with a silver tower on his back; he dropped to his knees and bowed his head when he met Pope Leo, before lifting back up to trumpet three times in the air. He then sucked water into his trunk and sprayed water down on everyone assembled — including the Pope.
Leo immediately fell in love with his present. He wrote to Manuel saying ‘the sight of this quadruped provides us with the greatest amusement and has become for our people an object of extraordinary wonder’. A special house was built for Hanno and his keeper between St Peter’s Basilica and the Apostolic Palace where Romans could visit him on holy days and he was often paraded through the streets.
But Hanno did not live at the Vatican for long. In 1516, he had trouble breathing and was noticeably in pain; doctors determined that the elephant was constipated and gave Hanno a popular treatment of the time, a suppository made of gold. This only made Hanno worse and he quickly died on 8 June 1516 with the Pope by his side. Heartbroken, Pope Leo wrote a hymn for Hanno and ordered his mural to be designed by the great Raphael himself. Hanno was buried in the Vatican’s Belvedere Courtyard, where his bones were discovered by workers in 1962.
№ 8: Salvador Dalí’s Ocelot, Babou
The Godfather of Surrealism, it’s not surprising that Salvador Dalí (1904–1989) had a thing for exotic animals. He used many of them for his paintings or performance art, probably the most famous being when he walked an anteater around Paris for a day in 1969. Unfortunately, contrary to popular belief, neither the anteater nor others were kept by Dalí. He did, however, keep one suitably exotic and mysterious pet, a Colombian ocelot he named Babou, derived from the Swahili word ‘babu’, meaning baby.
Dalí acquired Babou in the early 1960s, apparently from the Colombian President, and became inseparable. Babou was given a jewel-encrusted collar and free reign in Dalí’s many homes; one friend, the writer Suzanne White remembered seeing the cat “on a silken setee located in front of a carved marble fireplace”. Babou also accompanied their owner wherever he went, included some very glitzy hotels, like the St Regis in New York, and even ocean liners, like the SS France.
One famous incident occurred at a Manhattan restaurant in the late 1960s. Dalí entered the restaurant with Babou and tethered them to his table. Naturally, a woman on the table next to him was nervous at the sight of the one-metre, 10kg predatory cat there next to her. When she raised this concern with its owner, Dalí replied that Babou was merely a normal cat which he had “painted over in an op art design.”
But however pampered they were, Babou was noticeably unhappy as a pet on a leash, always attempting escape and wriggling out of its collar. Dalí’s friend, the actor Carlos Lozano later wrote in his memoirs, ‘I only saw the ocelot smile once, the day it escaped and sent the guests at the Meurice scurrying like rats for cover’. Babou’s ultimate fate is unknown, but it was doubtlessly an unhappy life within Dalí’s gilded cage.
№ 7: Calvin Coolidge’s Raccoon, Rebecca
The White House under President Calvin Coolidge (US President 1923–1929) and his First Lady, Grace, was home to multiple pets. They kept twelve dogs, six birds, two cats, a donkey, and a goose named Enoch. But living alongside these were some stranger inhabitants, most of them gifts from foreign leaders, including two lion cubs (called Tax Reduction and Budget Bureau), a black bear, a wallaby, and a pygmy hippopotamus called Billy. Little wonder that the White House was nicknamed the ‘Pennsylvania Avenue Zoo’.
But no pet had a story as strange as their pet raccoon, Rebecca. Absurdly, the female raccoon was given to the Coolidge’s to eat as part of their Thanksgiving meal by Vinnie Joyce of Mississippi in 1926. The First Family, however, became smitten with the animal when she arrived and the President decided to keep her and offered her a Presidential pardon instead. On the announcement of this, the President asked the press for name ideas, and the raccoon given the name Rebecca on Christmas Eve 1926, alongside a collar with the engraving ‘Rebecca, Raccoon of the White House’.
Rebecca was easily Calvin and Grace’s favourite pet. The First Lady would carry her around like a cat and she was a familiar face at the White House Easter Egg-Rolls, whilst the President reportedly walked around with her draped around his neck. Whilst Rebecca had her own official wooden residence in a tree on the South Lawn just outside the Oval Office and was kept on a chain outside, Mrs Coolidge wrote how ‘in the house she had her liberty…and we had to keep watch of her. She enjoyed nothing better than being placed in a bathtub with a little water in it and given a cake of soap with which to play’.
But Rebecca was, true to her nature, a wild animal. She sometimes bit the President and was grounded to the National Zoo for a few days. White House staff disliked her for her habit of ripping expensive clothing or upholstery with her incessant clawing and climbing. She frequently escaped from her cage and secret service agents would spend hours trying to coax her down from a tall pine tree on the South Lawn, that was if she hadn’t escaped the White House grounds all together and went off exploring the streets and bins of Washington DC. Upon leaving the White House in 1929, the Coolidges were forced to give Rebecca up and donated her to the Washington Zoo. But the pampered pet couldn’t adapt to zoo life and died shortly after.
№ 6: King Henry III’s Polar Bear
The Tower of London is most famous as England’s oldest prison, where enemies of the crown would spend their last days before being executed. But in the past it had numerous uses; until the 1700s it housed the Royal Mint, several kings held parliament there, and until 1835, it was home to the Royal Menagerie, where England’s kings would display their collection of pets.
First housed at Woodstock in Oxfordshire under Henry I, the menagerie was moved to the Tower by King John in the early 1200s. But it was his son, Henry III, who truly created the ‘Tower Menagerie’ in 1235, expanding the building to house not only his father’s considerable collection (three crates-full to be exact) but also the three lions he had just been given by Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick II, to represent the three lions of England’s crest.
As more animals poured in, much to the dismay of London’s sheriffs who now had to pay for their care and food, one in particular stood out. In the 1250s, King Haakon of Norway presented Henry with a “pale” or “white” bear; whilst they had no name for them back then, it was undoubtedly a polar bear.
A ‘stout muzzle’ and chain was made for the bear by order of King Henry so it could be led down to the Thames to catch its own food by its Norwegian keeper. A long rope was also made and attached to the Tower walls so the bear didn’t swim up the Thames and cause havoc in the City. This daily ritual soon became a show for London’s inhabitants and visitors; crowds flocked to see the colossal bear swimming and roaring in the Thames.
The arrival of an elephant from King Louis IX of France in 1255 somewhat upstaged the bear, and a great many replaced it in the menagerie after Henry died. But the image of the “white” bear of the Thames endured in the memories of Londoners and visitors for years.
№ 5: Emperor Caligula’s Horse, Incitatus
Perhaps the most famous animal on this list and well known to some already. Caligula, Emperor of Rome from 37 to 41 BCE, is renowned as one of the craziest and dangerous men ever to hold power. He had Romans worship his spirit as a god, apparently had incestuous affairs with his sisters, murdered at will, and turned his palace into a brothel; once, during some games, he apparently had his guards throw a whole section of the audience into the arena to be eaten by wild animals because there were no more slaves left and he was bored.
But perhaps his most obscure obsession was his favourite horse, Incitatus. Latin for ‘swift’, Incitatus was a renowned chariot and racing horse and many stories surround him, created by Roman historians long after Caligula’s death. Suetonius tells us that Incitatus had a stable made of marble, an ivory trough, purple blankets (the colour of emperors), and a collar of diamonds, rubies and other precious stones. He also wrote that Caligula would invite dignitaries on Incitatus’s behalf to dine with the horse in a specially designed reception house with servants. Cassius Dio wrote that Incitatus had his own army of servants and was fed oats with gold flakes. He also hinted that Caligula made the horse a priest.
The famous story that Caligula made Incitatus a consul, the highest politcal office in the empire under Emperor, is actually incorrect. Suetonius wrote that Caligula only suggested this, though he did make him a senator. Historians argue this story could have numerous origins; it may, like many stories about Caligula, have been made up by later emperors wanting to ruin his reputation; it may have been an actual indicator of how deranged Caligula really was; or it could have been another one of his distasteful pranks on the Roman Senate he despised, suggesting that their work could easily be done by a horse.
Either way, Caligula’s horse was never made a consul. But being fed gold, having servants, and being a priest and senator certainly makes Incitatus the most pampered and famous horse in history.
№ 4: The Nawab of Junagadh’s Dogs
Many people say they love dogs more than anyone else, but none have expressed that love more extravagantly than Sir Muhammad Mahabat Khan III, the Nawab (Muslim king) of the Indian princely state of Junagadh from 1911 to 1948.
For a start, the insanely rich prince had 800 pedigree dogs living in his palace alongside his family. What’s more, each of these had their own room with a personal butler and even telephone. If one got sick, a white-tiled hospital ward and first-rate British vet was on hand (medical care than the majority of his subjects could only dream of); if one died, Chopin’s Funeral March would be played throughout the palace and the Nawab would declare a period of mourning across the whole state.
But this canine-crazed ruler outdid himself in 1922, when he married his favourite dog, Roshanara, to Bobby, a golden retriever given to him by the Nawab of Mangrol. An eye-watering £22,000 (around £1 million today) was spent on the three-day celebration, attended by many Indian princes and British administrators (the Viceroy himself was invited but refused to attend). 250 dogs in uniform, a military band and a guard of honour received Bobby, bedecked in gold bracelets and necklaces, at the railway station for his grand wedding feast at the palace. Then, decked in a brocade and covered in jewels, Roshanara was carried in a silver palanquin to palace’s Durbar Hall for the wedding ceremony.
The Nawab also used his beloved dogs to ridicule the British colonialists he so hated. When staying at the British’s summer capital of Simla in the Himalayan foothills (where they went to escape the intense heat of Delhi) he had his liveried staff dress his dogs in formal evening suits, mount them on rickshaws and drive them along the high street. The British became infuriated at feeling a dog’s breath on their faces as the rickshaws caused jams outside the Cecil Hotel where a ball or dinner would be being held.
№ 3: Lord Byron’s Bear and Menagerie
A man described by his best friend as ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’, the Romantic poet Lord Byron (1788–1824) is notorious for his bisexual, extravagant, and controversial lifestyle. He had an affair with his half-sister, supposedly drank from the skull of a former rival, and was sent pubic hair by avid female fans, called ‘Byromaniacs’, in the post.
Even Byron’s love of animals stretched the boundaries of society’s norms. It began at an early age when Byron was a student at Trinity College, Cambridge. Byron was enraged at the rule that no dogs were allowed in the halls of residence; he greatly loved his dog, Boatswain the Newfoundland, and swore revenge on the college authorities. So, in October 1805, the 18-year-old Byron arrived at Cambridge University with… a bear. Despite arguments with him, the college had to accept that their was no rule against this, and so Byron and his bear lived happily there for three years. He rescued the small tame bear from a circus and it was kept in the corner of his bedroom; he would take it for a walk around the college quadrangle on a chain and spoke to it as though it were a dog, he even tried to have it enrolled in a fellowship at the University. When Byron left the college in 1808, he took the bear with him to his estate, Newstead Abbey, where it roamed the grounds with another of young Byron’s pets, a tame wolf.
But these eccentricities were just the beginning. The older Byron got, the more he fell in love with the natural world, and the more animals he collected. By the mid-1810s, his collection included eight dogs, horses, a fox, a parrot, a heron, three geese, a crocodile, a honey badger, and a goat with a broken leg. Completely in love with them and fearing their safety outside, Byron kept them indoors at his numerous properties in England, Switzerland, Italy and Greece. But by the 1820s, this had grown even more wild and extensive. On a trip to his house in Venice in 1821, Byron’s friend, the poet Percy Shelley, recorded the vast menagerie in a letter:
Lord B’s establishment consists of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels… I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane.
№ 2: Josephine Baker’s Cheetah and Menagerie
Josephine Baker (1906–1975) was born the granddaughter of slaves in segregated St Louis, but her comedic dancing, her sensuality, and gutsiness (not to mention a skirt made only of banana skins) took her all the way to Paris, selling out theatres and clubs in the late twenties, and becoming the first black woman in a film in 1927. Her popularity made her insanely rich, especially for a woman of colour (fans would shower her with diamonds, cars, and pearl necklaces), which she spent on designer clothes, a hotel, and Marie Antoinette’s bed. But her favourite things to spend money on was her many pets.
In her club dressing room lived her goat called Toutoute, whilst in the club kitchens lived her pig, Albert, who would feast on the finest food scraps and was drenched by Josephine in expensive perfumes. Eventually, Albert got so fat from all the foie gras and truffles that he couldn’t fit through the kitchen door, and so the frame was expanded for him. Meanwhile, her house was home to several dogs, numerous monkeys, Tomato the horse, a tortoise, a ‘friendly’ snake called Kiki, a parakeet, and a chimpanzee called Ethel. Naturally, all these pets were given diamond-encrusted collars and expensive clothes (Albert supposedly looked very nice in his tailored waistcoat).
But by far Josephine’s favourite and most-famous pet was her beloved cheetah, Chiquita. Josephine was given Chiquita by her club owner as part of her dance shows, where her party trick was to dive from the stage into the orchestra to shock the crowd (and probably the odd violinist too). Josephine loved Chiquita so much that, once the act was withdrawn from her shows, she kept heras her constant companion. She was given a diamond encrusted collar and leash, Josephine would take her for walks along the Champs Élysées, she would ride in Josephine’s Rolls Royce, and even slept in her bed. Diana Vreeland, fashion writer and future editor of Vogue, tells a story of when she visited a Paris cinema in 1932 to see the film L’Atlantide in her 1984 memoir:
‘The lights went on, and I felt a slight movement under my hand. I looked down — and it was a cheetah! And beside the cheetah was Josephine Baker!
“Oh…you’ve brought your cheetah to see the cheetahs!”
“Yes,” she said, “that’s exactly what I did.”
Out in the street there was an enormous white-and-silver Rolls-Royce waiting for her. The driver opened the door; she let go of the lead; the cheetah took one leap into the back of the Rolls, with Josephine right behind; the door closed…and they were off!’
№ 1: The Second Baron Rothschild and his Menagerie
Definitely worthy of being top of our list, nobody can say they loved animals more, nor has such an collection of pets, than Walter, Second Baron Rothschild (1868–1937).
Lord Rothschild studied Zoology at Cambridge and later had a huge team of scientists, taxidermists, and librarians to collect, stuff, and organise his huge collection of animals whilst he himself collected many specimens in Europe and North Africa. The Rothschild Giraffe is named after him, alongside 53 bugs, 58 birds, 17 mammals, three fish, three spiders, two reptiles, a millipede and a worm. In 1892, he opened his own zoological museum in the grounds of his house, Tring Park in Hertfordshire. The collection included 300,000 bird skins, 200,000 birds’ eggs, 2,250,000 butterflies and 30,000 beetles alongside thousands of stuffed mammals, reptiles and fishes, forming the largest zoological collection ever collected by a single person. The museum can still be visited today.
But alongside his vast collection of dead animals, Lord Rothschild also had an enormous menagerie of exotic pets. In the parklands roamed emus, rheas and kangaroos. The kangaroos became a nightmare for the gardeners; they would jump their paddock fence and spend time roaming around the lawns, digging up and eating the flowers in the formal beds. The gardeners therefore had to start work at 5am every morning, quickly replanting them before Lord Rothschild appeared on his 6:30 pre-breakfast horse ride. The parklands were also home to Lord Rothschild’s four famous zebras, who were renowned in London because their owner used them instead of horses to pull his carriage, once driving to Buckingham Palace to prove that zebras could be as tame as horses.
A great portion of animals also lived with Lord Rothschild within Tring Park Mansion itself. He often enjoyed riding on the back of his giant Galapagos Tortoise; his various snakes, boas, and pythons were given free reign to slither up and down the banister of his ornamental staircase, and a crocodile was once kept in a bathroom. The Baron would also share his dining table with his beloved animals; his twelve dogs would take breakfast with him off silver plates and, on more than one occasion, guests to Tring Park were amazed to find they were sharing dinner with a band of Rothschild’s trained chimpanzees clothed in full evening dress and fezzes. If all that wasn’t enough for an unaware visitor to Tring Park, Rothschild could then also present his party piece… a bear which he had trained to slap women on the bottom!
