Simon was a cat of serious business. With his pale, striped coat and piercing eyes, he viewed the backyard not as a playground, but as a perimeter to be secured. When the back door opened, he didn’t just walk out, he deployed. He stood firm in the tall grass, ears swiveled forward, scanning for squirrels, beetles, or the wind itself. He was a statue of focus, a true hunter in his prime.
Then there was Barnaby.
Barnaby was a Tuxedo cat who believed that legs were largely optional. While Simon stood guard, Barnaby simply melted.
Inside the house, the dynamic was always the same. During their daily strategy meetings on the back of the beige sofa, Simon would sit tall and regal in the background, observing the room with a kingly stare. He was the picture of dignity. Meanwhile, Barnaby would sprawl in the foreground, tilting his head with wide, bewildered eyes, looking as if gravity had just told him a surprising joke.
One sunny afternoon, the two legged giants opened the door to the garden. Simon immediately took his post. He stood rigid in the green lawn, muscles tense and ready to pounce on any intruder that dared to cross the fence line. He looked back to check on his backup, expecting to see Barnaby crouching in the bushes, ready to ambush.
Instead, he saw a black and white puddle. Barnaby had found a patch of dirt and stretched himself out as long as physically possible, staring blankly at a blade of grass. He wasn’t guarding the territory, he was trying to become one with the earth. Simon let out a small sigh, twitched his tail, and turned back to his watch. He knew that every great leader needed a jester, and Barnaby was the best clown in the garden.
Shannon Willis can usually be found in the company of furry friends. A passionate animal enthusiast, her work is often inspired by her deep love for cats, dogs, and the animal kingdom as a whole.
