q: why was the cat afraid of the tree?

[atrumcanis]

Who: atrumcanis & heartdissonance
When: sometime when it's sunny and animals want to be outside? Sunday I guess.
Where: parks and trees and large open spaces
Summary: Shiratama, meet Padfoot. A billion terrible cat jokes to follow.
Warnings: terrible jokes. animals behaving like animals to other animals.

Comments

[heartdissonance]

There has just always been something about trees.

Shiratama has never been sure whether it's her feline instinct or her human's love of being able to go up high and observe. The branches are good places to sit - sturdy, shady, and with such a good line of sight. Sometimes bird flock around her, and she doesn't really mind the company.

The four birds that had settled nearby her perch took off immediately, though, when the barking came near, and Shiratama herself nearly fell from the branch with a start. Her footing was regained quickly, of course, and then - looking down at this, this idiot dog, she stood with her back arched and her ears back and her tail quite rigid. 'What, what do you want,' her hiss came to mean; ridiculous, this sort of thing, and even if dogs could at times be tolerated, she had never liked barking.

Too loud. Too out of hand and excitable and did these things ever just shut up. Her paw reached out a few inches to swipe at him - only a warning, as of course she wasn't at all close to touching him.

Still

[atrumcanis]

AHA. AHA, he had almost had her, he'd almost done it, he knew he had! She could pretend to be secure all that she wanted, but the fact was he had come so close! The stupid cat, the cat who smelled like fur and sunlight and tree branches and leaves and cat underneath it and oh, she lived somewhere with flour--bread, bread, he was almost distracted by bread, delicious, especially with a bit of bacon, and he could jump on a table and steal it right off of an unsuspecting plate--

Cat. The white cat. He jumped back when that little paw came at him, but ha ha ha--hah, stupid cat, it was all for show, she didn't mean it at all! She was playing, well! Well, two could play, and playing was what he wanted, anyways. Tail wagging furiously, almost shaking, he jumped against the tree, paws scrabbling at the bark. Bark, bark--barking, more barking, but a doggy grin.

He flopped back to the ground and slammed his paws against the grass, a furious play with me play with me. Growling wouldn't deter him. She was trapped and she would have to come

[heartdissonance]

Climb higher, most certainly; again she growled, and then she snarled, all the while crouching and tensing and generally making quite the selection of sour faces. One more pitiful bat of her paw, and then she was up, skirting leaves, two more branches away from the ground, and therefore the dog. Playing. Really. Did she look the playful type?

(And it's quite good she didn't ask, because had she been able to get an answer, it just would have antagonized her further.)

Her paw swiped twice more, when she was on the new branch, this time aiming to loosen a twig and- what. Knock it down onto his face? A leaf and what amounted to a toothpick, what good would that do? Regardless, it was that or nothing, and Shiratama would not stand for nothing.

Being trapped was not a nice thing to admit or to experience. Her hissing was really getting her nowhere, wasn't it?

[atrumcanis]

Ugly cat faces. Ah, he loved those best of all, better even than the hissing spitting noises, better than the little paws and needle claws uselessly trying to defend a squashy cat body. This one was smart, though; this one climbed, took to the hills, retreat retreat retreat. Urgh. Smart cats, were there any two worse words (besides Bad Dog; even boy brains couldn't suppress the horror of those two words). Urghhh.

Boring. Bo-riiing.

He slumped back down to his haunches in the grass for a minute, panting. Dog brain whirring, boy brain trying to catch up with the brightness and images and smells and excitement. Right. A cat in a tree. Right. Think.

His head cocked to one side, ears pricking. Boy hands could easily climb that tree, palm over palm, and catch the cat. But boy brains wouldn't appreciate the prize as much. Boy brains wouldn't appreciate the prize at all; no. Padfoot had to catch the cat. But how?

Faking. Oh, he was a good liar, dog or boy or man or student or anything in between. A good liar, and dogs could lie to people