Burning Bright
Life is lousy if you're not top cat. You get off your mama's teat straight onto a slippery slope. Top of the food chain, am I? Well, I'll tell you about the food chain.
Buffalo, asses, monkeys, all kinds of deer, right? Right. Ripe for the picking, right? Wrong. Even if there's plenty of those jokers around, everything's after them. Vultures, wild dogs, snakes, leopards, us. The lions stick to their own turf. They know any of us could rip out their throats faster than a cobra could spit in their eye. But the others? Sure, if they're all scrapping over a carcass, along comes a tiger and they all scram. The tiger gets the goods. But that tiger's always got to be top cat, see?
My sisters went to find places where the water's cool and the grass'll hide your hide while your meal's taking a meal. Those are good places, where once a year the top cat comes round, leaves with a bellyful of meat and leaves the dame with a bellyful of small fry.
'You'll find somewhere, girls,' Ma told them. 'Even if you gotta off some old girl and take her place. She won't let you share, and don't you let no upstart dame share your place once you got it, got it?'
'Got it, Ma,' the girls said.
'Good. Make your mama proud.'
They left, and the last I saw of them was their tails, one heading south and one heading east.
'Hey, Ma,' I said. 'What about me?'
She fixed me with a stare like a tree frog watching its lunch.
'You remember your pop?' she said.
'Yeah, I think so. Big guy. Kinda quiet. Ignored us when he was here.'
'That's how you know he's your father. If some guy comes here and you ain't his, it means he's offed your pop and now he's out to off you and your sisters, see? And kiddo, you gotta be that guy before you can be the other guy, got it?'
'If some guy tried to off us,' I said, 'wouldn't you try to stop him, Ma?'
'Sure I would, sweetheart,' she said. 'But maybe I couldn't. Maybe the guy's too strong, y'know?'
'So then what?'
'So then I have another litter. With him. That's why you gotta go some place else and be that guy, son. Not too near your sisters, y'know?'
So that's it. That's what it takes to be top cat. Kill the pa; get past the ma to the small fry; screw the dames whose ankle-biters you offed. That's dames, plural. One of the perks of being top cat: the girls all get a star on the tortoise's back, and the guy gets the whole shell.
Me? I'm not top cat. Not yet. So I'm out in the scrap lands, lifting the vultures' stinking carrion and bathing in any lousy puddle I can find. And you know what the worst part is? I'm not even top cat in this dump. Not always, anyway. Not when Spots is.
She's smart, I'll give her that. She never tried to fight me, even when I was green. If a fully grown cat with a full sack between his legs and muscles to match tried to take on some green little tigress, maybe he'd stand a chance. But any other time, a leopard can't take on a tiger, and Spots sure can't take on me. If I get the food first, I win.
But sometimes Spots gets the food first. And that girl can climb. That's how those runts can live near tigers. The lions, like I said, they know to keep out of it. But the leopards? We're their only enemies, and if they can high-tail it up that tree before they get caught up by a whole lot of hungry tiger, they've got no enemies.
She even laughs at me from the high branches. 'You lose again, Stripes!'
One time I told her, 'You can't stay up there forever!'
'I can stay up here longer than you can stay down there. I got the monkey, y'know? Go try to grab an ass and leave me alone!'
'You know there's no asses round here!'
She laughed, and swallowed a mouthful of prime primate. I was hungrier than a bear waking up after the winter. Boy, could I do with a piece of ass.
'Sure, Stripes, I know. Say, isn't it time you tried moving up in the world? Got yourself some decent chow and a whole bunch of dames? You're looking pretty strong now, y'know? You must be just about ready to take on one of them old-timers.'
'Sure, Spots,' I said. 'I've smelled lover-boy around here. You just want me out of the picture when the small fry comes along.'
'Straight up!' said Spots. 'Okay, you're right, he has been here. He told me he had to run up a tree with a whole hog deer a day's walk south of here, and the cat never even got close! No kidding around, Stripes. This is your chance.'
Ma always said, never trust a pregnant leopardess. When she pops, the ankle-biters are easy food. Sure Spots doesn't want me around. So I'm not charging in like a rhino scared of losing his horn to some biped who's firing bullets from his hunting tackle and blanks from his trouser tackle.
But I figure it's worth checking out. I'll admit, he looks a big guy. Not as old as Spots made out. But this place of his is the bomb! The waterholes are big, the snacks are fertile and the dames are cute. Some of them are already knocked up. So I do what Ma told me: off the kids and then drop off some new ones. I can do that. Their mamas don't look strong enough to stop me.
The cat, though? He looks even bigger close up, and he's got my scent. So I guess this is it. Now or never.
© A.R. Collins, 2015
Buffalo, asses, monkeys, all kinds of deer, right? Right. Ripe for the picking, right? Wrong. Even if there's plenty of those jokers around, everything's after them. Vultures, wild dogs, snakes, leopards, us. The lions stick to their own turf. They know any of us could rip out their throats faster than a cobra could spit in their eye. But the others? Sure, if they're all scrapping over a carcass, along comes a tiger and they all scram. The tiger gets the goods. But that tiger's always got to be top cat, see?
My sisters went to find places where the water's cool and the grass'll hide your hide while your meal's taking a meal. Those are good places, where once a year the top cat comes round, leaves with a bellyful of meat and leaves the dame with a bellyful of small fry.
'You'll find somewhere, girls,' Ma told them. 'Even if you gotta off some old girl and take her place. She won't let you share, and don't you let no upstart dame share your place once you got it, got it?'
'Got it, Ma,' the girls said.
'Good. Make your mama proud.'
They left, and the last I saw of them was their tails, one heading south and one heading east.
'Hey, Ma,' I said. 'What about me?'
She fixed me with a stare like a tree frog watching its lunch.
'You remember your pop?' she said.
'Yeah, I think so. Big guy. Kinda quiet. Ignored us when he was here.'
'That's how you know he's your father. If some guy comes here and you ain't his, it means he's offed your pop and now he's out to off you and your sisters, see? And kiddo, you gotta be that guy before you can be the other guy, got it?'
'If some guy tried to off us,' I said, 'wouldn't you try to stop him, Ma?'
'Sure I would, sweetheart,' she said. 'But maybe I couldn't. Maybe the guy's too strong, y'know?'
'So then what?'
'So then I have another litter. With him. That's why you gotta go some place else and be that guy, son. Not too near your sisters, y'know?'
So that's it. That's what it takes to be top cat. Kill the pa; get past the ma to the small fry; screw the dames whose ankle-biters you offed. That's dames, plural. One of the perks of being top cat: the girls all get a star on the tortoise's back, and the guy gets the whole shell.
Me? I'm not top cat. Not yet. So I'm out in the scrap lands, lifting the vultures' stinking carrion and bathing in any lousy puddle I can find. And you know what the worst part is? I'm not even top cat in this dump. Not always, anyway. Not when Spots is.
She's smart, I'll give her that. She never tried to fight me, even when I was green. If a fully grown cat with a full sack between his legs and muscles to match tried to take on some green little tigress, maybe he'd stand a chance. But any other time, a leopard can't take on a tiger, and Spots sure can't take on me. If I get the food first, I win.
But sometimes Spots gets the food first. And that girl can climb. That's how those runts can live near tigers. The lions, like I said, they know to keep out of it. But the leopards? We're their only enemies, and if they can high-tail it up that tree before they get caught up by a whole lot of hungry tiger, they've got no enemies.
She even laughs at me from the high branches. 'You lose again, Stripes!'
One time I told her, 'You can't stay up there forever!'
'I can stay up here longer than you can stay down there. I got the monkey, y'know? Go try to grab an ass and leave me alone!'
'You know there's no asses round here!'
She laughed, and swallowed a mouthful of prime primate. I was hungrier than a bear waking up after the winter. Boy, could I do with a piece of ass.
'Sure, Stripes, I know. Say, isn't it time you tried moving up in the world? Got yourself some decent chow and a whole bunch of dames? You're looking pretty strong now, y'know? You must be just about ready to take on one of them old-timers.'
'Sure, Spots,' I said. 'I've smelled lover-boy around here. You just want me out of the picture when the small fry comes along.'
'Straight up!' said Spots. 'Okay, you're right, he has been here. He told me he had to run up a tree with a whole hog deer a day's walk south of here, and the cat never even got close! No kidding around, Stripes. This is your chance.'
Ma always said, never trust a pregnant leopardess. When she pops, the ankle-biters are easy food. Sure Spots doesn't want me around. So I'm not charging in like a rhino scared of losing his horn to some biped who's firing bullets from his hunting tackle and blanks from his trouser tackle.
But I figure it's worth checking out. I'll admit, he looks a big guy. Not as old as Spots made out. But this place of his is the bomb! The waterholes are big, the snacks are fertile and the dames are cute. Some of them are already knocked up. So I do what Ma told me: off the kids and then drop off some new ones. I can do that. Their mamas don't look strong enough to stop me.
The cat, though? He looks even bigger close up, and he's got my scent. So I guess this is it. Now or never.
© A.R. Collins, 2015
