The Stone Cat

I couldn’t resist. My wife’s big gray cat always sat in the sun room, looking out wistfully at the birds in our yard, only a few feet away. His eyes followed them greedily. His tail took a life of its own as it twitched back and forth. The poor animal was in the throes of anticipation. Her cat really didn’t like me, as I knew, for he was her cat alone, and I never touched him. But this was our little time together. So each morning as the sun came up he and I enjoyed ourselves in our various ways, me with my coffee and him with his hoped for mouthful of luscious little bird.

This went on for a long time. A couple of years, in fact, until I could no longer stand to watch him. I myself wondered what would happen if he could go through that sliding glass door and be among those happy carefree birds, chirping and twittering among the bushes and flowers.

So one day, I opened the glass door and sat down to watch. At first he was not sure it was real. He remained frozen in his spot. Surely he knew there was now an opening there. The birds scattered at the noise of the door sliding open, but they soon came back and were there before him, happily playing as before. He looked at me, then he looked at that
opening, and ever so slowly he moved toward his freedom.

It was quite interesting to watch him move. He almost slithered like a snake along the ground, his fluid skulking motion was so slow and deliberate. But he paused at the opening, perhaps unsure of going out, so he sat there the rest of our time together, just at the threshold, watching his birds. I finally had to go and get ready for work, so I closed the door again, and we went into the rest of our day, going our separate ways; he to his place of napping, and me to my busy desk.

The next day, I opened the door again. I could not deny him his hoped for opportunity. He sat as before just at the door sill, but this time so unmoving he seemed a statue. I suppose he thought that if he were this close to his prize, he would have to play it cool. It worked, for soon the birds were back again, just feet from his nose, and either ignoring him or unmindful of their fate.

I know my wife’s cat could move when he wanted to. He could zoom with sudden and astonishing speed, especially when he saw my wife bring out the vacuum cleaner. Besides this amazing speed he had, he could also disappear entirely from the region of that cursed noisemaker, never returning again until he knew it was quite gone.

I thought for sure he would now demonstrate this speed again, once he figured out that those birds he so desperately wanted were his for the taking. But again he only sat at the sill and watched as before, stone still and unblinking.

This continued for a few days, perhaps a week, till one day he crouched his way very slowly into the yard! The birds left immediately, of course, and did not return as long as he was there. Yet he took a position there, not of crouching or watchfulness, but of nesting. You know, the way a cat can tuck his paws and legs and tail up under himself as they sit besting in a window or on the arm of your couch. It is just a contented and comfortable position for themselves, as only cats can do.

So I watched him the rest of my short time that morning, but he was unmoving, and the birds were on the other side of the yard. His eyes were closed and it looked as if he were napping, but I knew better. He was playing possum. I knew he was thinking that those birds would eventually return, forgetting the still cat statue in the midst of their favorite playground.

I had to leave. It was getting past my time to go to work. My wife was in the kitchen and I didn’t want to leave her cat outside. I moved to the door to call him, but he ignored me too. I went out to scoot him back in, but he seemed unaware of my foot against his backside. I grew
somewhat alarmed at this and called my wife out to see. When she came out, she reached down to pick him up, but he seemed to have turned to stone!

Alarmed, she looked up at me, so I began to explain what had been going on for the past few weeks. She left him as he was and went inside to call the vet. I could not help thinking to myself that even the vet could not help us here. That cat had somehow become a living statue. Oh, he was warm to my touch, and his short gray fur was still soft, but he was as unmoving as if his body had turned to stone under his fur.

I was very late for work but I was not about to leave my poor wife. She talked at length to the vet, and even I got on the phone with him, trying to explain. Surprisingly, he said he could drive over and see this phenomenon for himself.

After he arrived, he pulled out his stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. The cat was alive, after all, thank goodness! My wife wept a bit at this news, but it did not change the fact that our cat was motionless. I nor my wife had never heard of a cat doing such a thing as this.

However the vet, an Easterner, admitted that he had heard of it but had never seen it. “Cats are such mysterious animals,” he said. “More than any other animal. Who knows what traits they could display, which we have never seen before. We really know so little about them.”

This bit of information surprized my wife and I, but it did give us a little hope. But what were we to do? We could not leave the cat out there where he was, so we brought him into our living room and placed him on his favorite chair for the moment. I went to my work. My wife that day enticed him with his favorite toy mice, his most favorite food, and even with a freshly opened tin of tuna, which for some reason she thought cats should never have, tuna being very bad for them or something. Even that failed to elicit a movement or response from our stone cat.

He was still there when I came home that night. And he remained in that spot the next morning when I got up. I did the only thing I could think of. I took him back outside and placed him on the grass where he began this whole thing. I thought that if he did this because he wanted the birds so much, that perhaps if the birds returned, he would come out of his immobilization and pounce upon them with relish. I admit I missed him being normal, and I know my wife did too, for she soon joined me in the sun room as we sat and watched him sitting there in our yard.

I had already called into work and told them I would not be in today. She and I continued to sit and watch him, becoming somewhat statues ourselves, transfixed as we were with his most unusual condition.

Soon we saw a bird land nearby, and then there were more! Our hopes and spirits rose that he would now change back into a flashing blur of feline activity, but alas, he continued his stony pose, oblivious to even his beloved birds.

More birds came. It was as if they knew somehow this cat was not going to bother them. They came in droves, celebrating their little victory over their cat who had always watched them through the glass door. A few even sat upon his back and his head, and we wept at this, for my wife and I now knew that he had indeed become a stone cat.

We left him there. We couldn’t help it. It was where we knew he wanted to be. Oh, now each morning and evening we would sit together, holding hands, on our little sun porch. We now left the glass doors open, hoping perhaps if our cat decided to move again, he could at least come inside. We left food and water for him just inside the door each morning, but he never moved, and our gift to him went untouched.

This went on for nearly a month. I knew by now he must be dead, for how could any animal, even a cat, go so long without food or water? I took to petting him each morning, and talking to him, as I went out into the yard by habit. Upon reflection, I know now that was a mistake on my part. The year was continuing on, and it was approaching Summer. The mornings were even becoming hot.

The final morning I awoke and decided that it was time for me to wear my shorts and sandals instead of my sweats. It was just too hot to do otherwise, if I were to work and putter around the yard. That was my second mistake.

I met my wife for our morning coffee together and went into the yard as always. The birds that were there around and upon our dear stone cat scattered at my approach, but I should have known that the temptation was too great, even for a stone cat. When I was just walking by his nose, he suddenly came to life! He pounced, and neatly placed twenty perfect little claws deep into either side of my bare shins. As I writhed in pain upon the lawn, he calmly went to his food and water, as perfectly content as any cat could ever be.

My wife attended to my wounds with tears and laughter, as I considered the strange alchemy of my bare legs and a dead stone cat. I finally discovered the only thing in the world that would change her strange statue of a cat back into a normal living one.

Yes, it was her cat now. She could do the duty of watching him watch his birds in the yard henceforth. Me? You will never find me wearing anything but pants from now on. Heavy corduroy pants.

Cats!