Cats have a skill I admire. They can shut down their brains to monitor-only. When in this standby status they remain alert to activity around them, but with no more involvement than a radar station. Eyes stare, noses wrinkle, ears scan; nothing else - until action is required.
At this point they go to full alert in an instant.
There's no stumbling around, looking for their glasses, rubbing their eyes, wondering what happened. None of that. They go from inert to alert with no
space between.
It may be that some other predators can do that. Maybe a master yogi can do that. I certainly can't.
I wish I could.
Such sublime efficiency would make life easier.
No pointless fretting, no buzzing brain rambling from one silly thought to another, no distraction at all. Monitor, act, relax, with not a single thing else necessary. How calming
it must be. The rest of us are stuck with nonstop unsettled pondering. What? When? why? What if?
Cats stay above the fray until a fray calls.
A few humans can manage standby mode; mostly military or martial art professionals. The ceremonial guardians of the Tower of London, popularly known as, Beefeaters, come to mind. They're trained to stand unblinking and motionless. Tourists sport at trying to get
a reaction out of the Beefeaters. The Beefeaters don't react.
Ceremonial military guards of many nations do their best to do the same. Perfect standby mode for humans requires steely willpower, it's purely natural for cats.
I once saw a different sort of standby mode in an old movie.
The ostensible hero of the film had a loyal sidekick, a Maasai warrior of stern continence. The spear-carrying warrior typically stood on his left leg with the right leg bent and braced to the other. He was as motionless as a statue until called upon to kill either lion or man.
It seemed to me that the Maasai was the real hero
of the film. Standby mode embodies nobility of purpose; complete focus on what needs to be done - with no attention paid to what doesn't need to be done.
Cats do it effortlessly.
A nature video on TV filmed a telling example.
The camera framed a leopard atop a small hill. At the base of the hill there was an opening to a warthog's den.
Nothing moved except the shimmering heat.
The narrator explained in voice-over that the leopard was waiting for the warthog to come out.
Neither narrator or audience had that much patience. An assistant was assigned to record the event. The leopard waited in standby mode for nearly six hours.
After lugging the kill to a nearby tree the leopard ate a quick meal, then stored the rest of the carcass in a handy crotch of the tree. A thorough clean-up followed - then the big cat returned to standby mode.
Standby is the default mode for every cat.
There has to be a payoff in the offing to move them from standby mode; something like the compelling burst
of canned tuna being opened, the scampering of a mouse, or the threat of imminent danger.
Anything equally important will do, and, of course, there are necessary chores that cannot be neglected.
Jungle cats, and apartment cats alike, must patrol their savage kingdoms daily. There's no way to be sure nothing's untoward without personal inspection.
Sleep is also necessary. Cats sleep with the same caution they apply to everything else. Some part of their being stays on standby even when they snooze. Human attempts at catnaps aren't nearly as successful.
Cats take personal responsibility very seriously.
Shouldn't everyone?
Lady Tallahassee on full standby mode