Every evening at exactly seven o’clock, Leonard climbed onto the windowsill and waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not for dinner. Not for birds. For music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His owner, Margaret, taught piano lessons from the living room. She claimed Leonard loved music because he never left while she played.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This was only half true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leonard loved music in 4\/4<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He tolerated 3\/4<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He regarded 6\/8<\/strong> as a youthful indiscretion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the moment someone attempted 5\/4<\/strong>, his tail began twitching like an irritated metronome.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first time it happened was during Take Five<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three measures into the piece Leonard stopped grooming himself, looked up with genuine concern, and walked directly onto the keyboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Margaret apologized to her student.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard knew exactly what had gotten into him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Five.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He despised five.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Over the years Margaret accumulated students whose musical ambitions far exceeded their technical abilities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One became obsessed with progressive rock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another discovered Balkan folk music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A jazz drummer arrived every Tuesday carrying books with impossible titles like Metric Modulations for the Contemporary Improviser.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard viewed him as a dangerous influence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One afternoon the drummer counted:<\/p>\n\n\n\n “One-two-three-four-five-six-seven…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard immediately left the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He returned carrying a dead mouse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one understood the symbolism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The drummer merely thanked him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n By autumn Leonard had developed an uncanny diagnostic ability.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He could detect a coming time signature before the first note was played.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A student would sigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adjust the sheet music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raise both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard would narrow his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Seven,” his expression seemed to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then he’d leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n People began treating him as a kind of rhythmic oracle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Leonard,” Margaret would ask while arranging new music on the piano.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “What do you think?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n If the cat remained asleep, everyone relaxed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If he quietly exited the room, they turned immediately to page three where, almost invariably, lurked an eleven-eight section.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Music professors heard stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One visited from the university carrying pages of modernist piano music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I understand your cat has opinions.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard climbed onto the piano.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The professor began.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The opening bars wandered freely through shifting meters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Five.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Seven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then thirteen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard stared for exactly twelve seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He slowly climbed down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Walked to the front door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sat facing outward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The professor laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I’ve been reviewed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Margaret smiled apologetically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “No,” she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “You’ve been dismissed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Years passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leonard grew old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His hearing softened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His jumps became smaller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One winter evening Margaret decided to play something she had avoided for decades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A difficult contemporary sonata that wandered through every imaginable meter before resolving, many pages later, into a broad, patient four.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She expected Leonard to leave immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instead he remained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Five.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Seven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He listened without moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, just as the music finally settled into four, Leonard stood, stretched, and walked over to Margaret.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He rubbed gently against her ankle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Only then did Margaret understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It had never been the odd time signatures he hated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was uncertainty without arrival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He didn’t mind getting lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He simply wanted to know that, eventually, everyone would find their way home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Every evening at exactly seven o’clock, Leonard climbed onto the windowsill and waited. 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