Mammy Tittleback and Her Family: A True Story of Seventeen Cats — Context and Discussion

A Cat’s Appearance as Character

Jackson devotes the opening paragraph to Mammy Tittleback’s coloring, treating it as a kind of personality map. The cat’s tail is singled out as “fierce” and capable of swelling “almost as big as her body,” while her face is “very kind-looking.” This visual dichotomy suggests that the cat’s emotions are legible through her body—a technique that makes her accessible to young readers. The description is precise: “yellow and black and white; nearly equal parts of each color.” Such specificity grounds the story in observable detail rather than anthropomorphic sentiment. Later, when the cats arrive in a box, the adults’ reactions are filtered through similar attention to physicality: Jerry the servant reports that “they’re rowin’ round so, you can’t count ’em very well.” The chaos of seventeen cats is conveyed through movement and sound, not abstract description.

Adult Skepticism vs. Children’s Devotion

The excerpt reveals a clear tension between the children’s attachment to the cats and the adults’ practical concerns. Mrs. Chapman, upon learning the cats have arrived, exclaims, “Oh, dear! oh, dear! What won’t Frank Wellington do next!” Grandma Jameson, a Quaker who uses “thee,” states flatly: “they can’t be kept here, that is certain.” Yet the children’s perspective dominates the narrative. Johnny has already “got them fixed real comfortable for the winter” and insists “there’s plenty of room in the barn.” The adults’ objections are voiced but not allowed to override the story’s focus. Jackson also includes a comic subplot: Jerry, the servant, plays a mild prank by announcing the cats’ arrival in a “low, mysterious tone,” and Mrs. Chapman is momentarily “puzzled and frightened.” This interplay of worry and humor keeps the tone light.

The Unreliable Preface and Narrative Framing

Jackson’s preface, placed at the end of the book, instructs: “nobody must read it till after reading the book. It will spoil all the fun to read it first.” This meta-textual joke signals that the author is aware of her audience’s reading habits and plays with them. The preface’s position—after the story—creates a circular structure: readers who follow the instruction will encounter it only after finishing, while those who peek will have the “fun” spoiled. The excerpt also includes a “Genealogical Tree” listing the cats by family groups: Mammy Tittleback, her kittens Juniper and Mousiewary, a second family including Spitfire and Blacky, adopted kittens Tottontail and its brother, and grandkittens Beauty and Clover. This formal chart contrasts with the informal, anecdotal tone of the narrative, adding a layer of mock-seriousness.

The excerpts offer only a partial view of the story—the arrival of the cats and the children’s reluctant agreement to give some away. The full arc of which kittens stay and which go, and how the family of seventeen is managed, remains unseen. Readers should pay attention to how Jackson balances the cats’ individual personalities (hinted at by names like Spitfire and Tottontail) with the practical logistics of housing them. The preface’s warning suggests that the book’s structure is part of its charm; consider reading it twice, once with and once without the preface.

I finished Mammy Tittleback and Her Family and kept thinking about how the cats each carried their own quiet story, how the children slowly learned that letting go is part of keeping something close. That same tenderness lingers in The Orphans of Glen Elder — A Closer Reading, where small lives hold whole worlds, and the leaving stays with you long after the last page.