Today I sat on the steps in Piazza Republica and watched a cat. Sleek and tawny, I'm sure he's fed daily by everyone in Cortona. He was sprawled out haughtily in the middle of the piazza when I arrived with my pizza and made myself comfortable on the sun-warmed steps. His expression was one of disdain, caring neither to move for cars or people, yet not letting anyone touch him either. He was like a rich man with an expensive sports car, pleased by how everyone was looking at him with slight awe in their gazes. When attention began to fade, he immediately recaptured it by springing up and stalking pigeons. As pigeons are the arch enemies of almost everyone (is it possible that anyone likes these fidgety, dirty birds?), we were all immediately rooting for him.
A couple of steps and then down: watching them with a lazy look in his eyes, mocking both us for watching him and the birds for not heeding his dangerous presence. They scurried around, picking at the crumbs of tourists. I'm not sure if they really haven't got a care in the world or if their brain is just too small to comprehend their own meaningless existence. Every time he got closer, they'd suddenly see another crumb farther on and dart after it. They never seemed to see him, yet always managed to keep moving away as a group. His tail swished impatiently, sensing the crowd's losing interest. A couple of people walked away, disappointed in his lack of a kill. The pigeons kept moving: some grabbing at crumbs too big for them and almost choking. "Get them, get them!" We were all encouraging the cat, feeling slightly sorry for this pompous sir. Finally, a couple of quick steps, a flurry of wings, and a leap into the air!
Pride dented, the cat was sprawled back down on the ground. "Never meant to actually catch the dirty things," he seemed to say. "I missed on purpose." An old man shuffled past, giving the cat a sympathetic ruffle on the head.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
ummm word of appreciation for its genuinity
Post a Comment