Dispatches from the Fury Road: Theatre Cat

I don’t know the cat’s name.

I don’t know if it is a boy or a girl or a they. I don’t even know where the cat lives. What I do know is that the cat likes to hang out at the Belvoir Theatre in Surry Hills and doesn’t mind if I give it a little pat. That little bit of contact elevates the cat into my top three for closest friends in Sydney.

The Belvoir Theatre sits at the top of a steep road and when the weather permits, I run up the footpath to start my jog. It’s also a good gauge for where my fitness levels are at. If I can make it to the top without my arm getting pins and needles and suddenly smelling burnt toast, then I’m in good shape.

I’m used to seeing the cat sitting around the front of the theatre, watching the world go by with eyes slightly scrunched in the glare of the afternoon sun. Some days I will stop to give the cat a little scratch around the ears. Other times my momentum will only allow me just enough time to exchange a little head nod. Now and again I’m in the zone so we barely acknowledge each other. It is in many ways, a typical cat-to-human relationship: a lot of affection one day followed by mild indifference the next.

Punters who frequent Belvoir Theatre will know the cat and be used to the way it walks figure eights through the crowd. They lavish attention on the cat while they wait for their friends to arrive, partners to park their cars or the staff to open the doors. On warm evenings the cat will stretch out its legs and paws in both directions, enjoying the cooling pavement. I’ve seen the cat revel in the attention and then look relieved when the bell sounds for the production to begin.

I took the photo that accompanies this piece a while ago. The original intention was to write about how this picture sums up my feelings towards art. I wanted to talk about how we’ve lost focus on the importance of art, how it can teach, entertain, challenge and inspire. I worry that mainstream entertainment has been systematically watered down to cope with a world that is filled with Sturm and Drang. People are so tired they’d rather have the company of a reality TV show playing in the background than engage with a a story that requires maximum focus. Most blockbuster movies have become a photocopy of a photocopy because taking a chance with a different approach could also lead to a heavy financial loss and the end of your career. The world is exhausted so mainstream entertainment plays it safe. If we approach a book or a TV show or a movie that needs too much of our attention to understand, we’ll shift our attention to whatever assuages our cluttered minds. Art and entertainment are now referred to as content. We treat entertainment like we’re going through a shopping list, crossing out the items we’ve experience so we can get to the product, leaving no time to dream and wonder about what we just experienced.

I believe art and entertainment are important to the world.

I also believe in this cat and do you know what this cat doesn’t give a shit about? Art and entertainment. While everyone is inside having a collective experience, this cat is chilling out the front with its back to the entrance, oblivious to it all. In the photo the cat is half asleep and relaxed. It has no inclination to wonder about the meaning of life, the struggle of the classes or what love means in our current climate. This cat represents that part of me that knows art is dispensable and only has as much meaning as you project towards it. When I look at this photo, I see both sides of my personality. The theatre is my love of the arts and the cat reminds me to ignore the world and engage on my terms.

That’s what I intended to write. It was going to be a larger piece with loads of examples. You might be relieved that my pontifications have been reduced to a couple of paragraphs. In hindsight, I think I am too.

When I looked at the photo recently, I had a different take. it has been a cold, wet winter and I realised I haven’t seen the cat for months. This could be for a number of reasons. Maybe the cat has made the sensible decision to stay inside where it is warm? Maybe i’ve just passed the theatre when the cat was off having other adventures? Maybe I haven’t been looking close enough as I whizzed on by?

I did actively look for the cat the other day and noticed the little bed that usually sits at the entrance has disappeared. Once again, that might be due to all the rain that has been pouring down that street, but it bothers me that it isn’t there. I guess I could wander into Belvoir Theatre and ask the staff if they know where the cat is. The problem with asking questions though is that you might not like the answers. I have decided to avoid the question and instead become Schrödinger’s jogger, the cat’s fate is unknowable until an answer is observed.

As winter turns into spring, I will return to regular jogging again and my usual route. I hope one day as I wheeze and groan my way to the top, my furry pal will be there, waking from an afternoon slumber, and will look at me slightly annoyed that I’ve disturbed its day. That’s fine. I will be rapt to be see the cat back where it belongs, keeping a watchful eye over the people who are preparing to engage with a night of theatre, while enjoying the easy charms of an uncomplicated night.

Justin Hamilton

Surry Hills

September 2022