No! No! We Won't Go!

The black cat in the middle of the road and directly in my path to my driveway was pretending not to see me. I gunned the engine slightly and he paid no mind. I honked the horn and he favored me with a disdainful glance, full of challenge, and he didn't budge. I drove a few inches closer and he turned his back with a switch of his tail that clearly said "Dismissed!" or perhaps "Go around!"

You can't win an argument with a cat, I know because I've tried, so there was nothing to be done except pull to the curb and manually move him. He was less than pleased with this strategy but after an initial warning growl which I ignored, he consented to be carried to the sidewalk with no resistance. I should've suspected that this had been too easy but feeling superior, I returned to my car. He immediately returned to his place in the street, sitting squarely in the center and facing me with an unmistakable expression of victory over the poor, foolish human.

I tried again, this time moving him further from the sidewalk and onto the yard. Stay! I told him sternly, You wanna be roadkill? Again, by the time I'd returned to the car, he was once again in the street and had called in reinforcements, the tortoiseshell from two houses down and the tabby from next door were now all three in the center of the street, defiantly staring in my direction and presenting a united front. I began to consider the possibility that cats could be reincarnated as war protesters from the 60's or possibly a new breed of four footed and furry terrorists. Neither seemed likely but the fact was that three neighborhood cats were preventing me from getting home and it did seem planned if not outright organized. I half expected to hear a chant, something along the lines of What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!

The standoff might've continued but in the interests of getting home and not setting off further protests, I gave way. The cats watched as I left the car and walked to the house and once I'd reached the front steps, they casually drifted away, the battle won. A high five wouldn't have surprised me much but then I remembered that they were cats, not a gang or a a terrorist cell, not boycotters or a picket line, just cats - admittedly, with attitude and a small victory, but still, no more than cats.

Fight only for what matters in this life, Choose your battles, as Uncle Shad told me so long ago, Then choose your burdens. You can't win an argument with a cat.