The standoff

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  • I was walking through a graveyard near Montmartre, on my way to take a picture of something else for today, when I saw this cat sitting on one of the tombstones looking at me. At first I thought it was made of stone, just another elaborate decoration not uncommon on old French graves. But then I saw those sharp yellow eyes.

    Another cat who I think was chatting with this one ran away, like a teenager about to be caught skipping school or something. But this cat didn’t move. It just stared me out. We stood there looking intensely at each other as if in a serious game of blink. I slowly drew my camera and took this picture and a couple of others. All the while the cat didn’t move, it just glared at me, sending the silent message telling me that I needed to keep moving or face the consequences.

    I stood my ground and stared back, sharpening my eyes to as mean a look as I could muster. But this cat was no pussy, it just sat there head tipped forward slightly, eyes burning into me, picking me apart, dissecting my thoughts, playing out all the possible scenarios of what could come next. It was a standoff.

    Eventually I walked away, but I did so slowly. The cat didn’t move. It just watched me walk away until I was out of sight.

    Stand nearby where this picture was taken using Google street view.

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