We tried to go to the Hemingway House early in our trip to Key West but were deterred by a long line of visitors that wrapped around the block. On our last day, we returned an hour or so before closing and went right in. Sometimes the 'late bird gets the worm!' We had heard about Earnest Hemingway because he famously loved cats, but apparently he was also an American writer who wrote several novels in the early-to-mid twentieth century. Who knew? And who is 'Kennedy' and what was he president of?
It didn't take long to spot a cat, who was sleeping on one of the informational desks in the room where we assembled for a guided tour of the house. According to the tour guide, there are sixty-one cats at the Hemingway House, most of them polydactyl (i.e., having an extra toe or two) and all descended from the original cat that Hemingway adopted to keep him company on his boat. He liked polydactyl cats because they are known to be excellent mousers and were often taken to sea for that reason, where they were also considered good luck.
Although most scholars now recognize that Hemingway was queer, something our tour guide went to great lengths to explain ignore, he married a handful of women (not at the same time), one of whom had exquisite taste in French tile, as we noted while admiring the bathroom floor in the primary bedroom suite.
She was also responsible for -- as punishment for Hemingway's philandering -- removing Hemingway's boxing ring from the backyard of the Key West house and replacing it with a swimming pool. I wanted to know if anyone ever still swims in the pool, like maybe the staff when they have their annual party?
There were cats everywhere. They were very relaxed. The guide explained that the Hemingway House has four people on staff who attend to the cats along with a vet who visits once a week. 'They have better health care than most of us!' she joked. People laughed uncomfortably. The guy next to me said, 'I have a question: what the fuck is wrong with our country?'
When the tour ended, we roamed the grounds and spent time with a tuxedo who looked just like Elektra.
'Who's Earnest Hemingway?' -- one of his cats.
We took the steps up to an atelier in the guest house that served as Hemingway's writing studio. According to the guide, he wrote every morning from 8:00 to 1:00 pm before going to Sloppy Joe's on Duval Street (see previous post) for drinks. I admit that the writer in me felt a little jealous of this schedule! On the other hand, it doesn't sound like Hemingway lived a very happy life. Apparently at one point he wanted to get his ears pierced and grow his hair long but was told that it would ruin his career. It was more evidence, I thought, that the mid-twentieth century represents a dark age in sexual repression from which we are still emerging.
A patio outside was covered in more beautiful tiles procured and installed by Mrs. Hemingway.
We learned that Hemingway suffered from severe depression and committed suicide with the same shotgun that his father had used to kill himself decades earlier. Maybe he would have been happier if he could have expressed himself in the ways he fantasized about.
But at least he leaves a legacy of caring for cats.
We left the Hemingway House and flew back to New York City, where our two cats were waiting.
As far as legacies go, I thought, loving cats seems like a pretty good one.
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