The Housewife’s cat is the first casualty once rhinoceritis takes hold of Berenger’s provincial French town, and its death highlights how easy it is to rationalize violence when the victim is somehow less than human. While Berenger and the café-goers are certainly sad for the Housewife’s loss, they ignore her cries that her cat was kind, gentle, and almost like a real person—and the Grocer’s Wife even offers to give her one of her cats to replace the dead one, as if the cat were expendable. Their unwillingness to truly empathize and see the cat as a victim worthy of respect and concern represents, more broadly, the way that fascism and other totalitarian systems begin by targeting the most vulnerable of a population, especially those that can’t advocate for themselves.
The Cat Quotes in Rhinoceros
Logician: That would be unjust, and therefore not logical.
[…]
Old Gentleman: […] Not logical?
[…]
Logician: […] Because Logic means Justice.
Old Gentleman: What can you do, dear lady—cats are only mortal.
Logician: What do you expect, madam? All cats are mortal. One must accept that.
Housewife: (Lamenting.) My little cat, my poor little cat.
Grocer: —it may be logical, but are we going to stand for our cats being run down under our very eyes by one-horned rhinoceroses or two, whether they’re Asiatic or African?
Botard: You call that precise? And what, pray, does it mean by “pachyderm”? What does the editor of a dead cats column understand by a pachyderm? He doesn’t say. And what does he mean by a cat?
Dudard: Everybody knows what a cat is.
Botard: Does it concern a male cat or a female? What breed is it? And what color? The color bar is something I feel strongly about. I hate it.
Papillon: What has the color bar has to do with it, Mr. Botard? It’s quite beside the point.