Where Collins stood on the canine/kitty question

NOW THAT the fuss over the Michael Collins film has begun to die down, a more important aspect of Collins the man has emerged…

NOW THAT the fuss over the Michael Collins film has begun to die down, a more important aspect of Collins the man has emerged in these pages. It turns out that whenever he managed to get a few hours off from being a revolutionary hero and ladies man, Collins went to the dogs.

Yes, Mick was a dog man. A recent Irishman's Diary by Justin Comiskey revealed that in 1920, Collins was a keen member of the newly founded Dublin Blue Terrier Club, and entered his own dog, named Convict 224, in the club's first show. Sadly, it secured no honours.

All this goes a long way towards explaining the complicated three way relationship between Collins, Kitty Kiernan and Harry Boland in those difficult years. Kitty was, of course, very much a cat person, (Dublin wags christened her "Catty" Kiernan) and barely tolerated - Mick's beloved Convict 224. Mick on the other hand was allergic to cats, but for Kitty's sake generally suffered in silence. Both, however were united in their detestation of Gandhi, Harry Boland's adored pet guppy fish.

One fateful Saturday night in 1921, things came to a head. Mick and Kitty had arranged, much to the discomfiture of Harry, to attend the annual Dublin Fusiliers' Ball in the Shelbourne Hotel. They were to meet in the Horseshoe Bar at 8 p.m., and as usual Kitty was the first to arrive, Mick being tied up with last minute administrative duties in the espionage area.

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Kitty, quite used to the situation was not at all put out. Beautifully wrapped up in a silver fox coat, and with her favourite Persian cat, Queenie, on a gold embossed leather leash secured to the bar stool, she cut a striking figure, and was soon surrounded by admirers.

Meanwhile, in the best of good humour after a couple of pints in Doheny & Nesbitts, the dress suited Mick Collins was on his way down Merrion Row, Convict 224 gambolling happily by his side and occasionally nipping the odd passer by in the ankle. Young Dublin blades greeted both warmly, some of them slagging off the blue terrier and his show skills with typical city wit.

Mick, now made an uncharacteristic mistake. Arriving at the Shelbourne, he allowed Convict 224 to be first through the revolving door. Instantly, the terrier smelt cat - and fox.

Moments later, the Horseshoe Bar was in pandemonium. Convict 224, having first ripped a sleeve from Kitty's fox fur, was battling fiercely with the proud Queenie. Kitty was screaming, the barman was phoning the fire brigade, and blood and fur were flying everywhere.

This was the scene that greeted Mick Collins. When the dust settled, Queenie had lost most of her fur, Convict 224 was nursing a torn nose, Kitty had departed in outrage, and Mick was charged with looking after both injured animals.

Deeply depressed, he went home and phoned his old friend Harry Boland, who insisted Mick call up to his Merrion Square duplex apartment for a drink. Mick bandaged both animals as best he could left Convict 224 whimpering in his kennel and for safety's sake took Queenie with him inside his coat.

Harry Boland was a generous host. Despite the romantic rivalry between the two men, they were soon, discussing their hopes for a new Ireland over a bottle of Paddy and a plate of ham sandwiches.

Then tragedy struck for the second time that night. Queenie, revived by the warmth, and feeling peckish, crept up on the aquarium where, Gandhi, Harry's guppy, lay floating contentedly. With a flash of the cat's paw, and one greedy swallow, Gandhi's short life came to a close.

Harry was in tears, and Mick Collins in shock. But Mick, ever the man of action, rallied quickly - within minutes he was on the phone. Queenie's ears cocked nervously as she heard the quiet word "reprisals".

At dawn next morning, Mick's men moved quickly through the city. During the historic 30 minute purge that followed, some 28 cats died in their homes, many in front of horrified owners.

The repercussions were not long in coming. Three days later, the Cats Protection League, which had originally supported Collins on the crucial quarantine issue, now entered the fray on the Anti Treaty and Kitty Kiernan, the committee secretary (pedigree breeds) found herself hopelessly compromised, torn between her love for cats and her love for Collins. She eventually resigned from the league only on the condition that Mick was never again to allow Convict 224 into her company.

Later, Mick showed the attractive feminine side of his nature by acquiring a miniature pink chihuahua, Koo Li, which he and Kitty came to love. There was never any truth in the rumour that it was a present to Mick from Lady Lavery. {CORRECTION} 96112000058