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

[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 that they don't like, to cats.

Okay. A plan. A good good good good plan. Tail still wagging slightly (he can't repress it; he can't, it's such a wiggly feeling) he slumped down onto his stomach, laid his head on his paws. A little whimper, just an inquisitive noise more than anything else. Rolled onto his side. Closed his eyes.

Dogs don't know how to hold their breath, but Sirius does. He was the best at playing dead. He would do it to James, if he were being particularly annoying. He can do it to this cat. And it will come down from the tree, and they will play.

[heartdissonance]

The cat looked down at him - Shiratama looked down and she puffed out her chest and felt distinctly offended. Why would he- why would anyone think she might fall for that? Does she look so stupid as to-

Well, yes, probably. Cat. Cats fall for things. Of course. Her back untensed just a little, shoulders going somewhat lax, and her tail swished carefully. Stupid dog, stupid thing. All of it, stupid. Being cornered like this was somewhat humiliating.

Though. No breath. The dog's chest did not rise and fall.

Shiratama crept. With such silence and such grace, she crept down back to a lower branch, and then she crouched and went taut again and, frowning at the dog, she leapt. Yes, she came down from the tree, but no: she still refused to play. She leapt right over that dog, landing with light paws and immediately kicking up grass as she took to running. All the while her mind went stupid stupid stupid stupid, but hopefully she could at least get enough of a head start to make it to- ah. What. A building? To where she'd left her clothes, maybe.

Cats are quick. Little white streak, but she hadn't made it out of the park yet, and knew that she'd bought herself only so much time. Also: Wondering why the hell this had become an issue.

[atrumcanis]

There. His ears twitched just slightly before her leap, trying to catch every nuance of her movement, every sound and clue and-- Oh, well, the sun was warm on his fur, and there was a bee droning somewhere, and his eyes were already closed and--

NO, there was a sound, she had jumped-- He scrambled to his feet--paws, whatever--scrabbling at the dirt and grass. He could smell her, she was close close close close close, she had just left, her stupid tiny paws moving through the grass, but they were small and her legs were small and--

There! There, he saw her; his ears pricked and his haunches went bunched and then taut and he bolted after her, low to the ground, every sense focused forward. A white shape in the grass, a white blur, but he had her, he was after her--he wanted to bark but that would take too long, and it would be too distracting, and he might as well just chase her.

Right behind you! He wanted to gloat, he wanted to gloat so badly, because cats were horrible and they deserved to be gloated to more than anything else--no, no, Sirius could reason over Padfoot for a minute; to catch her he had to follow her and trying to gloat would be too much and his paws might get tangled--

A car, oh a car, really close! A moment of distraction but, no, focus, focus focus focus the cat, the white cat; if he was just a bit closer he could grab onto her tail--oh, that would be the best-- He surged forward; the grass was coming to an end and it was going to be streets now, and sidewalk, and it didn't matter! He snapped at her paws gleefully, trying to get closer--he had to catch her now, to prove his point--

Aaaah, she smelled strange; such a mix of things. Strange.

[heartdissonance]

Awful. Shiratama had half a mind to simply run into traffic, because he would probably follow her and at least she could get up afterward. But, no. On second thought (and thank goodness for second thoughts), it wouldn't quite be worth it. Tires over her back would hurt for sure.

So, she swerved. Almost as if she were on the air rather than the grass, she turned quite sharply - almost a U, but not quite; V, maybe? Sharp movements, ah, she leapt again: not a human girl does not mean not a trained ninja. And after her half a second in the air, Shiratama landed atop that dog's back, forepaws followed by the hind, crouched for only a moment before again leaping (though not without a smack to the back of the dog's head with one of her hind feet). It was back toward the tree, this time, all across the grass again, though truly she was aiming to get past it - out of the park from the opposite direction, perhaps. The tree was a fallback.

After leaving the dog's back, though, Shiratama could not help but huff just a little as she ran, thankful for an intact tail. If she could have curled it in against herself right then, she would have. Despite an inability to be gobbled up, it was difficult not to instinctively shiver in a situation like this.

[atrumcanis]

What? What! What was that, what had happened? He had seen her, running, the white shape in the grass like the best kind of ghost to chase, her tail like a worm and her paws so close to his jaws, and a million billion smells, and then--

His back, ow, his head, ow--he skidded to a clumsy halt in the grass, paws tearing up clumps of dirt. Ow, ow, and where was she? Whirling around, he was distracted momentarily by the sight of his own tail, but managed to restrain himself in his confusion. Cat first, tail later, food after that. Cat first.

Right.

Where?

He pawed at the dirt a little, a tiny whine escaping his muzzle. Bugger. Dogs couldn't think in such words or terms, but this was Sirius-as-Padfoot this time, bugger buggery damn. Cat, stupid cat, she couldn't be allowed to get away. His ears pricked--was that her? No, it had been a baby in a pram going by, with a face full of jam--jam waiting to be licked off, baby waiting to be made to laugh--but cat first. Focus focus focus.

He scanned the grass, his dark eyes puzzling over the shapes, his nose quivering as he tried to pick out smells, to find the weird smell that was the white cat, and--

THERE. There, there, there, there, and his paws had tangled over themselves and untangled and he had begun to run even before he could catch up with himself. Not in direct pursuit this time--be sly, Padfoot, be sly--but skirting around, taking a wide arc. There, there, there, the same buggery damn stupid smart white cat, streaking through the grass, back towards that same tree--stupid cat, he would beat her there--he lowered his head and made himself run faster, faster, cut her off at the tree, playing a game! Ah, she was fast, but he would be faster.

[heartdissonance]

So, she became relieved just a little bit too early. Dogs aren't smart, after all; they're easy to outmaneuver, and then it's just a matter of running. And she'd run, nearly back to the tree in fact. So her paws slowed a little, and her head turned a fraction - no dog right there, a good thing for sure, and with her little heart (strange heart) beating quickly behind her furry chest, she came to nearly a full stop.

That is, before facing forward again and seeing that dog, that damned idiot dog I am beginning to hate him why is this-- The surprise, and the anger, was enough to make her screech, and for a moment she lost her grace, stumbling and trying to back up, turn on a dime. It wasn't working out too well. Grass and dirt between the little toes of her paws, then, from digging in so hard. Tail straight up, ears pressed back.

It was a very stupid feeling, having underestimated a dog like this. The tree didn't seem immediately reachable, at this point. Walking backwards was a little difficult, but she did so, growling even more, crouched low to the ground. Twitching whiskers and glinting eyes.

[atrumcanis]

Yes. Yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyes. That noise, that look in her eyes, the ears flattened against the skull and the way she prickled, an all over prickle--yes yes yesyesyes. Oh, rrrr, he wanted to roll in the grass right now, all tickly and eager and wiggly and a cornered cat!

Well, not cornered. Still able to move, for now. For now! Wait until he had her tail, and she wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Killing cats was all right, but they didn't taste that good. There were a hundred better things, jam on baby faces and chicken and things off of people's plates and things out of rubbish bins, like heels of bread and half-finished sandwiches and bacon, oh, cats weren't half as tasty as bacon, fresh or old or stolen or given. Not seventy five percent as tasty. Not even close to being as tasty as--

Cat. Cat. Focus. His tongue had lolled out of the corner of his mouth in his distraction, but now he was paying attention, right, attention. To the cat. She had backed up, that little growling sound in her throat--a good sound--but boring, borrr-ing. She should have done something by now. Run away, tried to scratch him--something interesting.

A dog yawn, a whine in the back of his throat. He lowered his head slightly, trying to look encouraging. C'mon stupid cat c'mon c'mon. But cats are stupid, he reminded himself. She wouldn't know how to play.

He slid forward on his paws, lowering his haunches, laying in the grass. Almost flat, his head on his paws, watching her. Watching watching. Stupid cat. Wriggling, he crawled forward slightly, a belly crawl, an army crawl, the grass prickling. Slowly, slowly. Sly. Sneak up on her. Hahhh, she would be surprised. He was practically invisible, here in the grass--maybe his tail was showing, but that couldn't be helped, it was wagging too furiously, he was too excited.