Cat in the Sun

“Look at that fat furry slug, just lying there. What a useless animal.”

The large gray and white cat slept in the sun with his chin on his front paws. He lay near the narrow flowerbed that bordered the fence by the sidewalk.

“He’s not fat. He’s robust,” the woman answered. The couple sat across from each other at a metal garden table with glasses of white wine between them. Their chairs were turned to look out towards the street. “And he’s no slug,” she went on. “He beat up a German shepherd last month. It cost me two hundred dollars in vet fees. For the dog.”

The man snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“The stupid lady who owned the dog filed a police report. But the dog ran into the yard and was barking at me. The mailman had left the gate open again. Tommy Boy was protecting me.”

“Protecting his territory, you mean. He probably sees you as territory.”

“You’re projecting. Maybe he’s just a cat, but he actually cares about me in some small little way.”

The man huffed and shifted in his chair. “You’re just territory.”

The woman pinched her lips together and frowned. “You think the whole world’s just like you.”

“Maybe it is,” he said.

“Not here, it’s not.”

A bee drifted past the cat, inspecting the yellow and purple flowers. One of Tommy Boy’s ears followed it till it buzzed out of range. The couple at the garden table watched the slow pulsing of the cat’s thickly-furred flanks as he breathed.

Footsteps approached, and Tommy Boy opened one eye, then went back to sleep. An old lady in a sweatsuit walked past, smiled and waved at the woman, and strutted daintily down the street. The couple picked up their glasses simultaneously, but the woman put hers down without sipping. The man drank from his and kept the glass in his hand.

“I saw the dog come in, and I went out to chase it off. I was worried about Tommy Boy. It started barking at me, in my own yard! The idiot lady had him on one of those wire leashes that’s on a spring or something, and can stretch way out. Of course she couldn’t hold such a big dog back. I don’t think she even tried. I was scared, because the dog kept coming up to me. That’s when Tommy Boy flew out of the bushes and took him on. The dog ran and hid behind the stupid lady. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She sipped the wine. “And then she got mad at me. Called Tommy Boy vicious!”

The man sneered towards the cat. “He sure doesn’t look vicious now.”

“He’s not vicious. He’s protective.”

“Territory,” the man said. He gulped at the wine again. He was looking across the street now, at nothing. “Did the cops actually come?”

“Yes. They took down her statement and then talked to me.”

“Did they interview the cat too?”

“They took his picture. He was sitting in the window like a statue, watching everything.”

“Where was the dog?”

“The stupid lady had taken him to the vet and then come back. Like she had nothing better to do.”

“She probably didn’t,” he said.

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said today,” she answered.

“Is there any more wine?” he said.

“You know where it is.”

The man got up and went into the house. The woman watched Tommy Boy breathe quietly in the sun. She sipped her wine. The man came back with his glass and sat down.

The sun moved in the sky without the couple noticing it. The shadow of the sidewalk tree crept over the low white fence and into the yard. The color of the flowers in the narrow border seemed to fade as the shadow covered them. There was a rustling in the leaves of the tree, and Tommy Boy’s ear followed it while he slept. The man and the woman picked up their wineglasses again, almost simultaneously, and again she put hers down without taking a sip. The man took a sip and put down his glass. She waited, staring past the fence and the tree to the front yard of the house across the street. A solitary crow was foraging in the grass, which needed trimming. The couple sat, slouched and weary, in their metal garden chairs. The front door of the house gaped open behind them.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “You want to go inside?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “It’s not late at all, and you’re not staying here tonight anyway.”

He grunted as he pushed himself back in the chair. He had almost slouched himself out of it. “So…another three-day suspension?,” he said.

“Oh, shut up. You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than anyone else does.”

“That’s not saying much. No one knows me. Not even my family.”

“Especially not them.”

“Yes, but they won’t turn on me.”

He snorted and picked up his wine.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

He snorted. “You’re the one who told me.”

“You’re worse than they are.”

“You haven’t always thought so.”

“I think so now. You can go home any time. Your home. The gate’s unlocked.”

The shadow of the sidewalk tree crept over Tommy Boy where he lay sleeping, touching first his sprawled hind legs, and then his belly, before it covered  him completely. After a while the big housecat lifted his head, stood up, stretched, and yawned. He looked around the yard, glanced briefly at the couple on their metal chairs, and then ambled to the side fence where the sun was still bright on the grass. He settled himself into a circle, tucked his tail over his nose, and went back to sleep. His ear still tracked the progress of the bee that was moving from flower to flower in the border. He slept quietly where the sun still fell into the garden.