July 13, 2026

Tibs the Great, Britain's Post Office Cat

For 14 years, Tibs kept the British Post Office headquarters mouse-free, but his story began nearly a century earlier, when the Post Office officially started hiring cats.

Long before pest control came in spray cans and service contracts, the British Post Office had a more straightforward solution: they hired cats.

The British Post Office officially put its first cats on the payroll in 1868 after mice became a big problem at the London Money Order Office. Traps weren't cutting it, and the rodents were messing up paperwork, so Controller Frederic Rowland Jackson decided to try a different approach. Three cats were recruited for a 6-month trial, with an allowance for their food and care. To their surprise, it worked right away.

Just eight months later, Jackson reported back in the classic, understated Victorian style that "the Cat System has answered exceedingly well and that the cats have done their duty very efficiently." Soon after, cats were hired at post offices all over Britain, earning 1 shilling and 6 pence a week to keep letters, parcels, and paperwork safe from mice.

Fast forward more than 80 years to when Tibs came along, and he was stepping into a well-established role.

Born in London in November 1950, Tibs was literally born into the job. His mother, Minnie, was already employed as a mouser at the General Post Office headquarters at St Martin's Le Grand, where the cleaner Alf Talbut took care of both cats. When Tibs was old enough, he took over the family business, and his office was in the basement.

Tibs lived in the headquarters' refreshment club beneath the huge Post Office building, where warmth, food supplies, and endless corridors made ideal territory for mice and, lucky for them, also for one very determined tabby. During 14 years of service, the headquarters remained completely mouse-free, earning Tibs the nickname "Number One Cat" at the British Post Office.

He was officially employed, too, making 2 shillings and 6 pence each week. But by the early 1950s, people noticed something amusing: postal cats had not received a pay rise since 1873. This became a big enough deal to reach Parliament.

In 1952, newspapers started questioning why the country's working cats were still on Victorian salaries. The next year, Members of Parliament (MPs) brought it up in the House of Commons, asking the Assistant Postmaster General, David Gammans, when the cats' allowance had last been increased. Gammans reassured Parliament that the Post Office cats had "an adequate maternity service" and that equal pay applied across the feline workforce. It may be one of those delightfully British parliamentary moments. Meanwhile, Tibs continued his work.

Even though his reputation as Britain's finest postal mouser, he still found a bit of time away from the basement. He attended a "Cats and Film Stars" party, posed for pictures, and featured in the 1953 book Cockney Cats. By the end of his career, he had grown to an impressive 23 pounds, which many attributed to living close to the staff dining room rather than a diet of successful mouse-catching.

Sadly, Tibs passed away in late 1964 after developing oral cancer. Several newspapers published obituaries for him, a rare honor for any employee, feline or otherwise.

He spent 14 years doing exactly what the Post Office had hired cats to do almost a century earlier: very efficiently.

Animals with jobs

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