If you’re thinking of ridding your town of that pesky library cat because of your allergies, or you just don’t like cats, beware: library cats rarely lose and when you take on library cats, you literally take on the world.

The town council in sleepy White Settlement, Texas, recently voted to evict Browser, the town’s library cat. According to the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, a city employee who was refused the right to bring a dog to work in city hall insisted the town’s library cat, then, must also go.

Browser was given 30 days to take a hike.

A tsunami of support ensued, petitions were gathered and the Huffington Post reported one council member received 1,394 complaints from around the world. A special session was quickly convened and the previous decision overturned. Cats win.

This was but one of many failed assaults on library cats, who typically muster worldwide support.

The San Diego Union Tribune once reported that a handicapped man’s service dog was attacked by a library cat. The man sued the city for $1.5 million. The world rallied, sabers rattling. The dog owner lost, and the judge ordered him to pay the city’s $30,000 legal bill. Cats win.

A common tactic used against library cats is the allergy gambit.

In 2013, ABC News reported that Patrick Higgins threatened to file a complaint to the U.S. Department of Justice if the Swansea, Mass., Public Library did not get rid of its cat. Higgins said he was acting for all people allergic to cats, invoking the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Astounded at the blow-back, Higgins told reporters “They’ve got a petition with over 2,000 people over a freaking cat.” Perhaps fearing for his safety, he offered to withdraw his complaint pending minor concessions by the library. Cats win.

Library cats have a long history of successfully defending their existence. Back in 1986, Phyllis Delaney of Woodbury claimed she was terrified of cats so the library cat must go, lest she “have a heart attack.” She told the New York Times that the well-being of taxpayers trumps cats.

The rest of the world disagreed and she endured a deluge of scary letters and phone calls. A sixth-grader started a petition, collecting hundreds of names. A dead mouse appeared in her mailbox.

“People are ridiculing me,” Mrs. Delaney said, “like I’m some old fool.” The library offered to deliver books to Delaney’s home. Cats win.

I polled our area libraries and nary a cat was to be found. Marty Hubbard, Senior Assistant Librarian at Ledyard’s Bill Library told me they decided against hosting a library cat due to the allergy gambit.

Mystic & Noank Library’s last cat, Emily, passed away in 2006. Library Director Christine Johnson plans to adopt another this fall, putting us back on the library cat map (and there is such a thing).

The new cat will be kept safe by a passionate, vigilant worldwide support system. Why is that?

Maybe this protective response is evolutionary, developed over thousands of years, since ancient Egyptians first introduced cats to libraries to keep mice from gnawing the papyrus.

It seems an almost metaphysical relationship between libraries and cats, perhaps symbolic of literature itself.

Cats reflect poetry: agile, colorful, mysterious. They suggest fiction: creative, playful, humorous. And they mirror nonfiction: opinionated, decisive, sometimes literally black and white.

But though they seem tame, those innocent library cats can deliver a world-class lickin’. Take them on and you’re guaranteed an angry mob with torches and pitchforks at your door in the dark of night. Cats win.

John Steward can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com, or visit www.johnsteward.online.