More than 6,000 years ago, a craftsman was buried in a cemetery in Mostagedda, south of Asyut in Middle Egypt. Beside his body lay some primitive tools. At his feet were the bodies Of a gazelle and a cat. Egyptologists believe the gazelle was intended for the deceased to dine on in the afterlife. The cat, his pet during life, was placed in the grave to provide companionship in the great beyond. We cannot say whether the cat was a domesticated feline or simply a wild cat that the man had tamed. The animal's importance to the deceased, however, cannot be contested.

"The cat's strength in Egyptian religion lay in its humble origins and its protective qualities," says Jaromir Malek, author of The Cat in Ancient Egypt, who is also the keeper of the archive at the Griffith Institute of the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, England. "These characteristics brought the cat widespread respect and a prominent place in the personal religion of ordinary people." According to Malek, ancient Egyptian religion was an extremely complex belief system that varied according to social strata and was continuously evolving throughout the several thousand years of Egyptian history. "In order to become approachable, Egyptian gods and goddesses took on the form of animals, such as a cat, cow, or falcon," he comments.

Central to the ancient Egyptians' religious system was the belief in the afterlife. Just as the sun god Ra set each night only to rise again the following morning, humans died only to live again in the next world. But there was a catch. "The spirit or soul could not leave this world without its container," explains Elena Pischikoza, a researcher at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. To ensure a successful journey into the next world, Egyptian kings had themselves and their families mummified and buried in elaborate tombs containing everything they would need in the afterlife. Much of today's knowledge about ancient Egypt comes from the materials and artwork found in these tombs. Among the many stories preserved in these tombs is the history of how wild cats first became mousers, then house pets, then gods.

In ancient Egypt lived two species of wild cat: the swamp, or jungle, cat and the African wild cat. Both species survive there today. The swamp cat (Fells chaus) lives in marshy regions of the Nile River Valley. It weighs between 8 and 14 pounds, and its coat color ranges from light brown to gray. It has black-tipped, tufted ears and a short, black-tipped tail. Other than faint stripes on its head, front legs, and tail, it has no markings. The African wild cat (Felis silvestris libyca) is of lighter weight than the swamp cat with a longer tail. Its fur color varies with its habitat, from reddish to gray-brown or sandy yellow. It has a long, ringed tail similar to a tabby cat. The two species can interbreed, and both may have been ancestors of the modern domestic cat.

The earliest depictions of Egyptian wild cats are in a sun temple built in the third millennium B.C. on the west bank of the Nile southwest of Cairo. They are part of a large wildlife scene in a chamber known to Egyptologists as the Room of the Seasons. The mural, discovered shattered into hundreds of pieces, was divided into the three seasons of the Egyptian calendar--akhet (inundation), peret (winter), and shemu (summer). Around 4000 B.C. scatterings of mud-brick houses began to appear on high ground along the banks of the Nile as herdsmen began to give up their nomadic way of life to become farmers living in permanent settlements. Every July the Egyptian New Year began when the Nile flooded with snowmelt from the mountains. The floodwaters did not begin to recede until September, leaving behind rich ribbons of silt in which farmers planted their crops. The harvest had to last the Egyptians and their livestock through the long, hot summer and the following year's flood.

Successful storage of this precious annual harvest was threatened by the large populations of rats and mice, which fed voraciously in the rural estate granaries and the towns' communal silos. When the indigenous wild felines began to capitalize on the situation by feeding on the thriving rodent population, the Egyptians had no objection. They also approved of the cat's ability to kill poisonous snakes. "This initial rather loose association of people and cats arose because of the mutual advantages of living together," says Malek. "Cats protected granaries from rats and mice and in return enjoyed a guaranteed food supply." Soon the cats began to feed on people's discarded food scraps. Eventually folks began to feed the cats deliberately in order to encourage them to stay. Over time this symbiotic relationship slowly evolved into a domestic arrangement that ultimately took the form of religion.

The ancient Egyptians' name for all cats, wild or domestic, was miu, meaning literally "he who mews." The hieroglyphic image for this word was simply a picture of a seated cat facing to the left, with its tail curled along its left side. Unlike dogs in ancient Egypt, individual cats were not named; an exception is the figure of a cat found in the tomb of Puimre at Thebes with the name Nedjem, meaning "Sweet" or "Pleasant." But while most cats shared the simple appellation, miu, some people took names from cats. Pa-miu, "Tomcat," was used for men, and Miut or Miit for women. A 4,000-year-old mummy of a 5-year-old girl was found in the temple of King Mentuhotep at Deir al-Bahri, on the west bank of the Nile. She must have died unexpectedly, since she was buried in an adult-sized coffin on which the name had been hastily changed from the originally intended owner's to hers--Miit--followed by an image of a seated cat with its tail curling up its back.

The earliest image of a cat in a domestic setting appears in a tomb at Beni Hasn in Upper Egypt and dates to 1950 B.C.: a cat facing off with a rat. Also in the picture are four pet baboons, one of which has a baby on its back. A man attends the animal group. In his hand is a long stick, one end of which is in the shape of a human hand. This type of stick is often shown in the hands of attendants assigned to watch over an estate's pets.

Once they became house pets, cats appeared frequently in tombs as symbols of the domestic life that the deceased hoped to experience in the afterlife. Plump cats sit under women's chairs or accompany the pharaoh and his family on hunting and fishing expeditions in the lush marshes of the Nile. Some Egyptologists believe cats may have helped in flushing out and even retrieving game. But Malek differs: "I believe that the association of cats and people on boating expeditions shown in tombs is purely an artistic device. The cat was regarded as an essential element in scenes of domestic bliss and happiness. The boating scenes, though superficially very convincing, are almost certainly symbolic and do not record real events."

The Roman traveler and writer Diodorus Siculus, who visited Egypt during the middle of the 1st century B.C., wrote that Egyptians called their cats to them with a clucking sound and fed them milk mixed with bread or fish. Cats were lovingly adorned with all manner of jewelry, including earrings, nose rings, necklaces, fancy collars, and even breastplates.

A small, pyramid-shaped tomb discovered in a cemetery from the Middle Kingdom at Abydos was built between 1980 and 1801 B.C. There a cruciform chapel contained the skeletons of 17 cats. They had been presented with a funerary offering of a row of small, rough clay pots that may have originally contained milk. The nature of the ancient Egyptians' relationship to the cat was changing. After making its way into Egyptian domestic life, cats were now entering the culture's spiritual life.

In a glass case in the Egyptian wing at New York's Brooklyn Museum, a mummified cat lies on its side, gazing out at the passing groups of boisterous schoolchildren with its flat, linen, cutout eyes. It is wrapped tightly in strips of tea-stain-colored linen, the edges of which are blackened with age. The bandages wrapping the cat's face are laid in imitation of tabby markings--a tight pattern of lines coursing into the central features of nose, mouth, and eyes. A wad of linen is painstakingly molded into the precise shape of a feline nose. Another carefully placed strip forms a perfect chin. The eyes are circular linen cutouts darkened with a smaller black circle in the center to represent the pupil. Maybe it is the fact that these pupils are round like a human's, instead of oval like a cat's, that makes it look at once alarmed and alarming.

Because of its role as a killer of rodents and snakes, the cat eventually took on the role of a protector in Egyptian religious belief. The first time the cat appeared in a religious context was around 2000 B.C. on magic knives. These knives were carved from hippopotamus ivory and decorated with animals and surreal creatures. The cat was often shown with one raised paw holding a knife. The magic knives were mostly carried by, and buried with, women and children to protect them from the dangers of everyday life, including accidents, illness, and even nightmares. Cat figures also appeared on jewelry and amulets worn for the same purpose.

Eventually the cat became connected with the sun-god Ra and several goddesses, "especially those who could manifest themselves as a lioness," says Malek. "The lioness-goddess Sekhmet and the cat-goddess Bastet eventually came to be regarded as two different aspects of the same deity--one belligerent and destructive and the other peace-loving and friendly." According to Malek, the cat was regarded strictly as a manifestation of a deity, not a deity itself. Yet the importance of the cat to ancient Egyptians was such that this distinction began to blur.

The Greek historian Herodotus, who visited Egypt in the mid-5th century B.C., confirms that pet cats were regarded as manifestations of deities and adds that when an Egyptian family's house was on fire, they were more concerned about rescuing their cats than their possessions. According to Herodotus, when a pet cat died, the people living in the house shaved their eyebrows and went into mourning. The body of the dead cat would be taken to the city of Bubastis, home of the goddess Bastet, where it would be mummified and buried in a cat cemetery.

Herodotus also wrote that anyone who deliberately killed a sacred cat was executed. Accidental killing was supposedly punished in a manner deemed fit by the priests. Diodorus witnessed such an incident in 59 B.C. "An unfortunate Roman, who accidentally killed a cat, could not be saved, either by King Ptolemy of Egypt or by the fear that Rome inspired." The Roman delegate was promptly lynched by an angry mob.

The Egyptians' reverence for cats could work against them. The Macedonian rhetorician Polyaenus, writing about the battle of Pelusium of 525 B.C., states that the Persian soldiers shielded themselves with a variety of live sacred animals, including cats. The Egyptians, unable to fire at the Persians for fear of killing their "gods," lost the battle.

During the Late Period of Egyptian history, the cat's popularity reached its peak. Changes in the political current brought the cat-headed goddess Bastet and her home city of Bubastis to the forefront of the political scene. With the encouragement of government officials and priests, cats achieved cult status among the masses. "Popular religious beliefs emphasizing gods manifesting themselves through animals were manipulated by the state and the temples to their own advantage," says Malek. Kings, with the cooperation of priests, encouraged the growth of a sacred-animal industry.

Temples began to breed cats in huge numbers in temple catteries. To demonstrate the strength of their faith, pilgrims would pay the temples to mummify and inter deceased cats. This represented a significant source of income for the temples but was not so good for the cats. "In view of the fanatic zeal with which cats were protected in late Egypt, it comes as something of a shock to discover that many of the mummified cats were hastened to their deaths," observes Malek. X rays of cat mummies show that a common cause of death was a broken neck or strangulation.

Hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, of mummified cats were buried in cat cemeteries surrounding temples across Egypt. According to Malek, we can get an idea of the vast number from a record of a single shipment of ancient cat remains sent from Egypt to England. The shipment weighed 19 tons and is believed to have contained 180,000 mummified cats that were processed for use in fertilizer.

Little is known about how all this affected the life of an ordinary ancient Egyptian house cat. "We believe that in daily life cats were treated as cats," says Pischikoza. "They were treated nicely, as we treat our pets today. But they were not worshiped. Ironically, to worship a cat, they would go to a temple where a cat would be killed, mummified, and presented as an offering to a cat goddess."

So religious zeal was not such a good thing for the cat in ancient Egypt. Then, as now, it can be dangerous for an animal to be thought of too highly by humans. Still, as long as they stayed away from the temples, pet cats, for the most part, probably made out all right. They could expect quick rescue from a fire and safe passage down a busy ancient Egyptian street--and they got to wear fancy jewelry and perhaps even go on the occasional family hunting expedition. For a pet cat, the routine of life in ancient Egypt probably wasn't so different from that of today--eating well, napping often, and cultivating the mystique that guarantees a comfortable place in humans' homes and hearts.

Laurie Ten Eyck is a freelance writer based in Altamont, New York.