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]

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.