Feline Promachos

It wasn't a simple job to serve as the protector of the Acropolis, but oh, it had certainly been a glorious one. 

The sun began its customary ascent into the sky, casting golden rays of light across the city of Athens to stir its sleeping inhabitants. Within a few hours, tourists hailing from the city and never-ending cruise ships would swarm the promontory. They would take countless photos of the ruins and learn about the ancient history, only to let it slip from their minds by the time they returned home to their beds. But Ailuros never forgot.

She lay outside, curled up against one of Doric columns of the Propylaea- her preferred spot for a morning nap. As was routine, she had spent the early hours of dawn chasing away the other strays who dared trespass on her property. It was an everyday occurrence that had only worsened over these past one hundred years. Why they felt the need to continually test her patience was beyond her. Surely they had better chances finding food in the city with the humans, who would only be too eager to toss leftovers in their direction. This was her territory.

The Propylaea was Ailuros’ favorite structure, though she would never admit it- as a protector of the Athenian Acropolis, she didn't think it was appropriate to show favoritism (what would the gods think?). Many tourists came for the Parthenon, but were stunned into revered silence as they approached the ‘gate’ to the plateau. How could they not be? The structure was indomitable, complicated, and a wonder to behold. With the exception of the missing portion of the roof and triglyph, it had held strong through the city’s complex history. It towered proudly over all who entered as if proclaiming, “I am still standing after all these years!” 

Mnesikles had outdone himself.  

Ailuros recalled the days when the Greeks began construction on the building. It was her favorite pastime to lounge on a neighboring rock and watch leisurely as they carried in the heaping chunks of marble. On occasion she offered her advice to the architect. She was the one who had suggested the creation of the south wing, which she felt gave the multi-level building a much needed sense of symmetry. It had irked her when Mnesikles combined the Doric and Ionic order for the columns- she was a traditionalist, and found the Ionic style to be too flouncy and improper. Over the years, of course, she had come to appreciate its beauty. 

When it was finished, she circled a nearby column a few times, sat tentatively, and finally gave it her seal of approval by curling into a ball in front of it. And that was that. It was her place. Here she could bask lazily in the warmth of the morning, keeping one watchful eye on the entrance to her sacred space, and the other on her beloved marble structures that stood imposingly over all who entered. From the great chariots that sped by during the ancient times, to the foot traffic of current day pedestrians, she saw it all from this perch.

A light breeze tickled her fur, and she awoke to see the sun rising higher into the blue. If she narrowed her eyes, she could almost see the horses and chariot preceding the ball of light. Good morning, Helios, she thought, purring in approval. Not that she expected anything different- this was how the mornings began since the beginning of time. Helios carried the sun across the sky in the same fashion today as he did back when the Greeks defeated the Trojans. The gods and protectors of the city had their roles, and they performed them dutifully, day after day. And Ailuros was no different.

She stood up and stretched, pushing her backside towards the sun in effort to get warm. She could feel her joints pop as she scratched her claws along the stone ground. The noises were more frequent as of late, especially when she climbed up the steps of the Acropolis. I’m getting older. Well, what could she expect as a 2,700 year old feline? She was on her ninth life now- she had gone through two of them during the Ottoman conquest alone, when artillery fire was a constant threat. Flicking her tail a few times to give it a good ‘swish’ she entered through the Propylaea, taking stock of her domain. 

The rocky terrain of Greece made it one of the most unique landscapes in all of Europe, and the Acropolis was no exception. Craggy rocks and stone jutted out from all angles with patches of grass peeping through the cracks, yearning for sunlight. This is where Ailuros thrived. She was swift, light as a feather, and never once slipped in all her years. She could dart across the rocks with her eyes closed and never falter. This place was her oikos. Her temple. She knew it better than any other creature, except perhaps the gods. In her youth, she loved challenging Aeolus, ruler of the winds, to races across the plateau. He was one of the few humans she tolerated.

Approaching the Erechtheion, she lifted her head to gaze at the remnants of the still beautiful (and still very well preserved) temple. The six caryatids stood strong and steadfast, balancing the weight of the once walled room with their heads as they had for thousands of years. Whenever Ailuros felt lonely or in need of companionship, she would jump up next to one of the maidens and sit in quiet contemplation. It was also a convenient vantage point to survey the Acropolis and ensure the tourists were behaving themselves appropriately. They particularly loved to snap photos of her sitting atop the wall. She could only imagine how many photographs existed over the years of her and the lovely maidens sitting… watching… judging.

The sacred olive tree stood near the west porch of the Erechtheion. This was one of Ailuros’ preferred places to curl up for her afternoon nap, particularly during the summer months when the sun was at its harshest. The green leaves were vibrant this morning, almost beckoning her to come relax under its shady canopy. Well, if you insist…

Ailuros remembered the day when the goddess Athena planted that very tree to compete for the title of Athens’ patron. At the time, king Cecrops had just founded the city, and Athena and Poseidon both desired to be patron of this young ‘polis.’ As a test, the serpent king asked for a gift from each of them. Poseidon struck the ground with his trident, which erupted into a salt spring that proved far too salty for Ailuros’ preference. Athena, on the other hand, buried something in the ground, which soon grew into the lovely olive tree, providing wood, oil, and food for the city. Ailuros loved to feast on the olives, and it was through her heavy suggestion (rather, insistence) that the citizens chose Athena as the patron. Ailuros would never forget the stormy look on Poseidon’s face when he lost. He was always in a foul mood, and enjoyed his revenge by tormenting the city with drought. Typical. He was definitely the one responsible for sending the strays.

Being the protector of the Acropolis certainly had its adversity, however. From the beginning of its conception, this noble city experienced the legendary highs and crushing lows that accompanied a powerful empire. The people created beauty, innovating the most ingenious structures on Earth. They were skilled in mathematics, medicine, and philosophy. Even so, Athens had also endured the wrath of the gods, and the ravages of war. Ailuros had seen it all- witnessed the sorrow, the unimaginable loss that befell her sacred temples. She was the one constant in the ever-changing world of her Acropolis.

She could recall the hallmark sixth century A.D., when the citizens of Athens converted to Christianity, turning her temples into churches. Athena had been so enraged at this violation, Ailuros thought for sure she had failed her job. The gods certainly enacted their vengeance upon the Greeks by sending the Ottomans in the fifteenth century. This act didn't help the Olympians, however, as the Parthenon became a mosque, and the Erechtheion was reduced to a harem! Oh, such disgrace! At the time, Ailuros felt shame that the humans could turn their backs on the gods and goddesses that protected (albeit, tormented) them. But now, many of the humans that visited the Acropolis didn't prescribe to any religion at all. She didn’t know which was worse. 

But perhaps the greatest tribulation of all was the bombing and destruction of the Parthenon in 1687- the event that had cost her two precious lives. The bombing was nonstop for eight straight days- it turned her whiskers grey, and she lost patches of fur that to this day still hadn’t grown back. However, as relentless as the siege was, Ailuros was even more so. She was the protector of the Acropolis, and she wasn’t going to acquiesce without a fight. 

During the day, she took shelter in the crevices of the terrain, biding her time. At night, she struck. The Turks didn’t see her slinking in the shadows, sneaking into the Parthenon where they stored the gunpowder. She sacrificed a field mouse, and prayed fervently to Athena for god-like strength. Her prayers were answered, and she spent several nights dragging the bags of gunpowder out of the building and tossing them off the cliff. In total, she disposed of almost half of their supply. When that fatal shot hit the Parthenon, Ailuros watched as her sacred space was destroyed, but not completely decimated. It was because of her efforts that the Parthenon was still standing today. 

Vandals and looters eventually descended on the Acropolis, and Ailuros spent her days clawing and sinking her teeth into their pant legs, sending many of them scurrying. When that blasted Elgin arrived and began robbing the temples of their of priceless sculptures, she terrorized him endlessly until he finally departed. One one memorable occasion, she leapt from the rocks and scratched the side his face, leaving a nasty red welt. He would have stolen the entirety of the Parthenon frieze and all of the caryatids from the Erechtheion had she not given him cat scratch fever. Who knows what else he might have taken, if not for her.

Her feline ancestors had proved to be far superior to other animals in their cunning, wit, and independent nature. Those infernal dogs were passable for hunting, but not much else. And look! Now they were demoted to mere companions, sitting on laps- at the mercy of their humans for food and shelter! Pathetic. 

Her cousin, the Sphinx, served as the guardian of the city of Thebes, devouring all who were deemed unworthy to enter. The Nemean Lion and even the Chimera were relatives that, despite being categorized as monsters, were known for their unyielding strength. They were remembered. Ailuros was proud of her heritage. She would never allow herself to become a domestic plaything- she was built for much more. Perhaps one day, Ailuros would be commemorated as the feline patron of Athens. She purred at the thought, slinking towards the eastern end of the Acropolis. She might get a statue built in her honor, although a temple would be appreciated, considering her years of service. Humans received plaques for much less. She’d want it to be located near the Propylaea so that she might continue to watch and survey from beyond the grave. 

Arriving at the Parthenon, Ailuros bowed her head in reverence to the goddess. I hope I have served you well. She felt a light breeze flow past her, the slight hint of olive. I’m glad.

The Parthenon was a magnificent feat of architecture, even if the friezes that once adorned it were now across the sea in another land. At night when the lights of the Acropolis lit up, the Parthenon shone brighter than all the stars in the sky. Ailuros never tired of seeing it. It was the pinnacle of Greek classic design, and was still standing after all these years, after all it had witnessed. If walls could talk, the Parthenon would scream. 

This entire acropolis had persevered, not entirely unlike cats. They both found ways to adapt and maintain relevance in an ever changing world. Ailuros knew an alley-cat who had multiple restaurants at his disposal- they were slaves to his every whim. 

She had made her home here on the Acropolis, her “high city,” and she vowed long ago to reside here and protect it for the remainder of her days. Not even bombs or hoards of tourists could dissuade her. She pledged to the gods to serve as the feline embodiment of Athena Promachos (oh, how she missed the iconic statue!), always watching over her beloved Acropolis, her own Athens. To her dismay, most of what had made this plateau so extraordinary had been destroyed or ransacked over the years, leaving the skeletal remains of today. She had watched as the buildings that had once stood strong began to wither away and decay. It weighed on her, but then again, that was life. Everything eventually came to an end. But not Ailuros- not just yet. She was one of the few relics left from the days of old when the humans celebrated the Panathenaia, and the mystery cults worshipped in revered temples.

She walked up the steps of the Parthenon and sat, surveying the area. Within the hour, countless tourists would ascend the hill and marvel at the ruins while taking in the spectacular views of the city. They, of course, would have no idea just how much history they stood on- how many people had come before them. How could they? 

And undoubtedly, they would point and google at the tabby sitting on the steps of the Parthenon. They would smile and reach their hands out, but she would never come. She had a job to do, and she much preferred her solitude. 

Ailuros licked her paw and smoothed her head. There was just enough time for a grooming session before the humans arrived. 

Looking out at the tiny ships that dotted the sea, she closed her eyes and felt the wind. This was her home, her ‘polis’. She had lived here for thousands of years, and here she would remain, with the sharp rocks, limestone walkways, marble columns, and magnificent olive tree until the end of her days, whenever that may be. Whereas Athena was the official patron of the city, Ailuros was the silent protector, the watcher, the feline promachos. It was a role she took very seriously, and with great honor.

A noise stirred her out of her reverie. Opening her eyes, she caught a glimpse of movement on the left. A tiny lizard slithered along the rocks, stopping on occasion to bathe on the warm stones. He was blissfully unaware. Poor creature. Such is life, after all. 

Her tail twitched and with a sudden leap, she was gone.