A little ficlet
Just dropping by. Have a nice weekend! :)
The Cat And The Raven
In a small town in southern Canada, just shy of the border to North Dakota, there once lived a cat (felis catus) and a raven (corvus corax). When I say once, I do not mean that they are dead; they just don't live there anymore. But let's not jump ahead.
The cat's name was Mr. Fluffles. He ignored it, unless he was called home for dinner. Mr. Fluffles was a grouchy cat, and he could often be seen (and heard) berating other cats for crossing over into his territory. Loudly. If they didn't leave, he'd smack them with a paw that had all claws extended as far as they went.
Mr. Fluffles did not like to share.
The raven didn't have a name. He did not belong to anyone. Years ago, he had been born on the US-American part of the continent, but he had never been one to mind borders all that much. He was a free bird.
All the raven really cared about was flying.
As cats and ravens go, they shouldn't have had too much in common, or even seen each other as anything different than a moving piece of fur on the ground or a black dot high in the air. But there was a highway nearby, where cars maybe went a little faster than they were allowed to, and what better place for a raven to find carrion? What better place for a cat to find snacks that were warm and of a decent size, instead of the tiny crunchy ones his humans made him chase after?
And so they met, and they kept meeting, sometimes eating side by side, keeping a wary eye upon the other. And sometimes the raven croaked, "Mr. Fluffles!" (Heaven knows where he had picked up that one) and dropped some fresh entrails from the other side of the road next to the cat, who accepted the offer with little grace.
But accept it he did. And if ravens could smirk, this one would have.
Then one day the raven did not come, and although the cat pretended not to care, he went looking when the second day had passed and there still was no sign from his feathered pest. He only went because he had gotten used to the entrails, of course.
He found the raven at the side of the road, unmoving, one wing hanging across the sleek black body in an odd angle. The raven looked at him with an air of resignation when he approached, too weak for anything more than a feeble flutter. A truck had grazed him, slamming him to the ground and breaking his wing, making him easy prey for any - any - predator that came passing by.
Mr. Fluffles' tail was twitching, and every cat instinct screamed at him to pounce. He stomped away in that grumpy way of his and brought the raven some roadkill instead. The entrails, he kept for himself, though.
It went like this for a while, the cat bringing food for the raven until his wing was healed and he could fly again. Still, he did never fly far, and the cat spent more and more time outside instead of curled up in his warm and cosy basket, until, one day, they both disappeared. And no matter how hard Mr. Fluffles' humans looked for him, no matter how often they called, he never came home again.
I do not know where they went. But I think they went together.
And let me just say that writing this was a lot of fun. *grins*
Snippet
The Cat And The Raven
In a small town in southern Canada, just shy of the border to North Dakota, there once lived a cat (felis catus) and a raven (corvus corax). When I say once, I do not mean that they are dead; they just don't live there anymore. But let's not jump ahead.
The cat's name was Mr. Fluffles. He ignored it, unless he was called home for dinner. Mr. Fluffles was a grouchy cat, and he could often be seen (and heard) berating other cats for crossing over into his territory. Loudly. If they didn't leave, he'd smack them with a paw that had all claws extended as far as they went.
Mr. Fluffles did not like to share.
The raven didn't have a name. He did not belong to anyone. Years ago, he had been born on the US-American part of the continent, but he had never been one to mind borders all that much. He was a free bird.
All the raven really cared about was flying.
As cats and ravens go, they shouldn't have had too much in common, or even seen each other as anything different than a moving piece of fur on the ground or a black dot high in the air. But there was a highway nearby, where cars maybe went a little faster than they were allowed to, and what better place for a raven to find carrion? What better place for a cat to find snacks that were warm and of a decent size, instead of the tiny crunchy ones his humans made him chase after?
And so they met, and they kept meeting, sometimes eating side by side, keeping a wary eye upon the other. And sometimes the raven croaked, "Mr. Fluffles!" (Heaven knows where he had picked up that one) and dropped some fresh entrails from the other side of the road next to the cat, who accepted the offer with little grace.
But accept it he did. And if ravens could smirk, this one would have.
Then one day the raven did not come, and although the cat pretended not to care, he went looking when the second day had passed and there still was no sign from his feathered pest. He only went because he had gotten used to the entrails, of course.
He found the raven at the side of the road, unmoving, one wing hanging across the sleek black body in an odd angle. The raven looked at him with an air of resignation when he approached, too weak for anything more than a feeble flutter. A truck had grazed him, slamming him to the ground and breaking his wing, making him easy prey for any - any - predator that came passing by.
Mr. Fluffles' tail was twitching, and every cat instinct screamed at him to pounce. He stomped away in that grumpy way of his and brought the raven some roadkill instead. The entrails, he kept for himself, though.
It went like this for a while, the cat bringing food for the raven until his wing was healed and he could fly again. Still, he did never fly far, and the cat spent more and more time outside instead of curled up in his warm and cosy basket, until, one day, they both disappeared. And no matter how hard Mr. Fluffles' humans looked for him, no matter how often they called, he never came home again.
I do not know where they went. But I think they went together.
And let me just say that writing this was a lot of fun. *grins*
Snippet