Storytelling: The Story of the Third Old Man and of the Cat

O, prince of the Genii! I tell you that my story is the most marvelous of them all, for I, in fact, am a cat. I was a loner. I would spend my days perched on a windowsill of whichever place I chose that day. I would watch the passersby, longing for companionship. I would often get shooed away; no one wanted me for a pet. It was a sad life to live, but I had learned to make the best of it. One day though, my boring, lonesome life took an exciting turn.

I was perched in the window of my favorite place, the home of a beautiful, young woman. She lived alone, although I do not know how she had not come upon a suitor. She was always smiling, at her neighbors, strangers, and even me. Although she never took me in, she never shooed me away like the others. She would smile, give a little pat, and continue with her day. Well, this day was different. Shortly after she had entered her home, a man I had never seen before approached her doorstep. I watched him carefully because I had a bad feeling about this one. He gave me a nasty look as he waited for her to answer the door. I hoped she would not hear his knock. He knocked louder this time, and still, I hoped she would not answer. As I heard her footsteps finally drawing nearer to her door, I watched the stranger pull a blade out of his boot. I panicked.

Whatever this man’s business was, it was not good. I only had seconds to act. Everything seemed to happen at once. My beautiful friend opened her door as the man lifted his blade in an attack motion as I leaped from the windowsill toward her assailant. Those next few seconds remained a blur. I landed with precision on the man’s face, causing him to drop his blade as he tried to free his skin from my sharp claws. I would not let any harm befall this woman. While I wrestled with the man, that gave the woman enough time to retrieve his blade. He rushed toward her, my body still obstructing his vision as I held on for dear life- her dear life. She was ready though. She bravely shoved the blade toward him, leading him to be the cause of his own demise as he ran straight into his own blade.

Cat sitting on windowsill, Art by Danielle

By this time, her neighbors and passersby had gathered around her home. Some checked on the woman while others removed the body of her attacker. “Are you hurt?” One woman asked my dear friend.

“No, I am just fine. Thank you,” she replied.

“How did you manage to fight him? He is sucha large man, and you are so small.”

“I had some help,” my love answered as she sent a smile my way. Her neighbors helped her into her home to rest and then returned to their homes. I returned to my spot on her windowsill, now taking on my new role as her protector. I heard a lovely voice call to me from inside. “Cat?” I did not hesitate; I jumped down from the window as I had done so many time, but this time I jumped to the floor inside. I bounded toward her and jumped into her lap. She rubbed my fur affectionately. “You have saved my life,” she said to me. “I can never repay you for this act of service you have done for me.” I nuzzled her hand as she went on. “I would like to do my best to try, though.” And then it happened.

In an instant, I was a human being. My fur had disappeared, leaving only skin. I was standing upright on sturdy legs. I outstretched my arms, staring at them in amazement. I no longer had paws, but I had hands and feet. And fingers and toes! No more claws but nails! As I examined this new form of mine, the magical woman before me brought her lips to mine. “We can now be together, never having to be alone for the rest of our lives,” she said to me, staring into my eyes before she kissed me.

Arabian Nights from The Arabian Nights' Entertainment by Andrew Lang, online source

Author's Note: The original story is actually a collection of stories. Scheherazade must tell these stories to her husband, the evil Sultan, to literally keep herself alive. It is necessary to keep he stories captivating, so the Sultan will spare her life for at least one more day until the next story. She tells one series of stories about three old men, but once she gets to the part about the third old man, she says she cannot remember that one and moves on to a different one. I decided to give that third old man a story. The first two old men told stories of humans turning into animals, so I decided to twist that and tell a story of an animal turning into a human.