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Cat Colonies, Nude Protesters, and Other Wild Stories from Parliament Hill

The odd things at the heart of our democracy

The Parliament of Canada is located in Ottawa, which is famous for being “the town that fun forgot”—a description credited to political satirist Allan Fotheringham’s writings of the 1980s. Fortunately for Ottawa, it had been upgraded to “the city that fun forgot” by the time it made international headlines in 2015 when the hacking of a website for persons seeking extramarital affairs revealed that one in five city residents allegedly had accounts. Ottawa even retained its “city that fun forgot” title in 2023 when there was international news coverage of the proposed nightlife czar, a municipal official charged with making Ottawa more fun in the evenings, though perhaps through means other than encouraging extramarital affairs.

Ottawa’s reputation for being soul-suckingly unfun does not help the impression people might have of Parliament. Nor does it help the impression people might have of those who live and work in Ottawa. When the CBC aired a miniseries about Parliament in 2004, a primary critique was that the actors cast were too attractive and well-dressed: “For accuracy’s sake, this show needs more mustard stains, polyester, and back fat.”

While Ottawa may be boring and frumpy, Canada’s Parliament deserves credit for being interesting and sometimes entertaining. Parliament is so much more than a news clip of Question Period in the House. It’s not just the legislative process and its three readings of a bill. It’s a place of substance, sure, but it is also where wild, wacky, and wonderful things happen.

The grass in front of Centre Block has been described as “Canada’s front lawn,” and it’s no surprise that animals occasionally make an appearance.

Enter the legendary Parliament Hill cats. The early press reporting on them is not what you might expect. In a 1936 article about Parliament’s “rare albino cockroach,” it is written that “no one knows where the cats came from, they just arrived, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs. The pairs caused the trouble. Lovemaking, unmelodious and raucous, echoed through the dignified halls and their tribe increased.” Yes, listening to cats fornicate was once a Centre Block pastime.

But the bigger cat story on Parliament Hill is that of the cat colony. As explained by the CBC, “Cats were brought to the House of Commons in its early days to catch rodents. But by the ’50s, their hunting skills were no longer needed. Banished to the elements, volunteers started taking care of the mousers, giving them names and building a tiny village on a slope behind Centre Block to protect them. At its height, the sanctuary had more than thirty strays that devoured close to $7,000 worth of cat food every year paid for by donations, not the federal government.”

The cat colony began in the late 1970s. Irene Desormeaux was the “cat lady of Parliament Hill” for eleven years, becoming so well known that “she was even permitted entry to feed her cats when the area was cordoned off . . . for Prime Minister Brian Mulroney’s meeting with US president Ronald Reagan.” Her neighbour was René Chartrand, and—the day before Desormeaux died—he promised to take over her cat duties. His aid was supposed to be temporary, but he ended up tending to the........

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