This weekend my boyfriend and I came across an odd scene in Fishtown. A tuxedo cat was chilling out with a gaggle of about seven pigeons. Normally, my cats are in complete stealth mode if they are within even ten yards of a bird. But maybe there is strength in numbers. Or maybe there is such a thing as world peace after all.After we snapped the picture, the cat laid down, either bored or comforted by the pigeons presence.
Posts
I was at the shore this weekend with my family and my brohter's pug would run around the deck frantically barking every time he saw a seagull. I don't get it. What does he think he's doing? It's not like he can catch the thing; it's flying! Then again, he may have just been trying to guard the place for seagull attacks.
ReplyDeleteMaybe it was just too hot for the cat!
ReplyDeleteI've seen films of lions with full bellies laying down and ignoring a herd of zebra. Maybe the cat wasn't hungry?
ReplyDeleteHe probably just finished eating one of the pigeons!
ReplyDeletelove those cats, great picture!
ReplyDeleteThat is such a cute story (and a cute cat)!
ReplyDeleteAs for pugs, they seem to bark at everything, even very large dogs that would kick their butts if necessary. They like to act tough.
You all have such rational reactions to the photo: maybe he wasn't hungry, maybe he was too hot, maybe he had already eaten one (I hope not! :)).
ReplyDeleteColor me naive for thinking it was a sign of peace and harmony throughout the world.
I can't explain why, but the photo reminded me of this:
ReplyDeleteWallace Stevens
A Rabbit As King Of The Ghosts
The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun
And nothing is left except light on your fur—
There was the cat slopping its milk all day,
Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk
And August the most peaceful month.
To be, in the grass, in the peacefullest time,
Without that monument of cat,
The cat forgotten on the moon;
And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light
In which everything is meant for you
And nothing need be explained;
Then there is nothing to think of. It comes of itself;
And east rushes west and west rushes down,
No matter. The grass is full
And full of yourself. The trees around are for you,
The whole of the wideness of night is for you,
A self that touches all edges,
You become a self that fills the four corners of night.
The red cat hides away in the fur-light
And there you are humped high, humped up,
You are humped higher and higher, black as stone—
You sit with your head like a carving in space
And the little green cat is a bug in the grass.
What a great scene! Any interpretation is fine. That's the beauty of photography.
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting poem, Rob. I've never read it before, but find it baffling. I can't figure out who the speaker is, and who he/she is talking to. And the cat keeps changing colors! I guess, as Trina said, photography (and poetry) can be interpreted in a myriad of ways, which is the beauty of the art!
ReplyDelete