As I was walking home last night, I saw a street cat jump onto my terrace. It first jumped onto the stone frame of the entrance to my garden, where there is an iron gate, and thence it jumped onto the wall of the terrace. A minute later I sprayed the little rascal with water, and it fled the same way it came. But I spent much of the morning figuring out how to foil such unwelcome intrusions in the future. Early on I dismissed railings with spikes or barbed wire. After much tinkering with two large stones, which I placed vertically onto the stone frame of the garden entrance, I think I have found the simplest possible solution to the puzzle. The first stone prevents a cat from getting a foothold at the edge of the frame, while the second one prevents it from jumping beyond the first. The distance between the stones is meant to trip the cat if it manages to get beyond the first stone. Throughout this exercise, I did my best to think like a cat, especially at night. Before long, that turned into an even greater challenge than the task at hand.

Addendum I (November 12, 2007)

About a fortnight ago I saw a street cat jump over my two stones with such ease that I was simply stunned. What prowess! And so I added two smaller stones on top of the two bigger ones already on the stone frame of the entrance to my garden. This seemed to work, up to a point. Every few days I find one of the smaller stones on the ground, where a clumsy cat must have dislodged it before scampering away. At least it got frightened, or so I would hope. But today I found a kitten on my terrace. Not more than a few months old, it fled over the many stones without any difficulty. I could not believe my eyes. What dazzling prowess! And so I added a few smaller stones along the frame of the gate, hoping that the kittens would dislodge them. This may work, but only up to a point. It is time to reconsider railings with spikes or barbed wire. To think like a cat, my ass.

Addendum II (November 18, 2007)

When I am home, I am alerted by a thud every time a cat tries to get over the growing stone contraption on the garden gate. Each and every time I chuckle. Depending on the thud, I can also tell which stone has been dislodged by the cheeky trespasser. Not surprisingly, most usually it is one of the smaller stones. But the thud I heard last night was the loudest one so far. I could feel it in my bones. When I went to the terrace with a torch, I saw what I expected: one of the large stones was resting on the ground among several smaller ones. The cat was long gone. Having lost balance on a smaller stone, it must have clutched at one of the large ones in panic. Oh, how I laughed! My contraption is far from perfect, but it is a source of unending fun nonetheless.

Addendum III (February 22, 2008)

It is time to wrap up this story. By now the garden gate is graced with two stone columns. They are on the tall side. There are six stones in one, and seven in the other. And they are quite effective. Not a single cat has managed to come to my terrace for at least three months. Having learned what happens if and when they try, the cats have stopped trying. One by one, they have given up all hope of using the terrace for their little games. And that seems to be that. But I must add that the two columns look pretty good. In fact, they are a stunning sight. “My Neolithic protection from cats,” I like to boast whenever I am asked, but most people assume this is an art project of mine.

Addendum IV (May 11, 2008)

As it turns out, this story is far from finished, though. Namely, my stone columns are becoming a tourist attraction of sorts. On my way in our out of the house, I often find someone taking pictures of the two rickety columns. With the Mirna valley in the background, they look rather stunning, too. A minute ago I found a young man with all sorts of cameras with him. There was a professional air about him, as well. He did not blink an eye when he saw me approaching my front door, pulling out the key, and opening the door. Apparently, he knew what he was doing. He was about art and nothing but art. In short, I would not be surprised to see stone columns like these proliferating around Istria. One fine day, they may even become traditional in these parts. Sorry, cats!

Addendum V (April 16, 2010)

To think like a cat… Now there are five columns on top of the garden gate. They leave no foothold for the little devils. And yet they are hardly a deterrent for the most intrepid among the street cats. Time and again I find the columns nearly obliterated and a pile of stones under the gate. On occasion I hear the avalanche of stones, as well. My latest addition to the Neolithic contraption is a bunch of wobbly stones in places from which cats take off to reach the top of the gate. This may work for a while, but I am already used to this game. It never ends. For cats are no slouches. Slowly but surely, they are learning. To think like a man…

Addendum VI (May 27, 2011)

This story needs rounding off. And badly. The five columns on top of the garden gate are long gone. Only a few stones remain in their place. The reason is simple: kids visiting Motovun would throw stones at the columns. This would happen mostly during the film festival in mid-summer, but school excursions to the hilltown would often end up with several columns gone. Nonetheless, there are no cats on my terrace any longer. As witnessed by an occasional snake I spot there, the wobbly stones seem to be doing the trick. In the meanwhile, I have placed them on all the surfaces from which cats used to jump to the gate. Besides, there are many fewer cats in Motovun at this point. Most of them were rounded up and killed off last summer, when there was an outbreak of rabies among them. And that is that, at least for the time being.