Why the Cat Is Chased But Not Caught

Treason comes from those who profess most loudly that they are friends.

“Teach me to climb trees,” the cat heard someone say as she lay on a tree branch high above the forest.

She dug her claws in the green wood to keep her balance, leaning her head over to see who spoke. It was a dog; he looked up at her panting silently, his tail wagging rapidly back and forth. “You’re a dog,” said the cat. “Dogs don’t climb trees.”

“Oh but we could,” said the dog. “And we’d be good at it if we had someone like you to teach us.”

The cat sighed and closed her eyes. Dogs and cats were not friends. More than once she herself had fled from them, finding safety only when she scaled the trunk of a tree, hiding high in its branches. If a dog knew how to climb a tree there would be no place safe for any cat to hide. “Still,” she thought, “this dog might prove useful.”

“And what will you give me in return for my knowledge?” asked the cat. “For surely, climbing trees is a skill that would come in handy for anyone. It is valuable knowledge. What would you give me in return?”

The dog frowned. “What do you want?”

The cat was silent while she thought long and hard. “I want to hunt.” She saw the puzzled look on the dog’s face. “Oh, sure, I can hunt. Any animal in the forest can. But I live off rats and mice, and sometimes birds. I want to know how to track and kill larger prey. I might never be able to take down a deer or even a fox, but there are larger animals that I could eat: some my size or larger. Teach me how to track and kill those, and I will teach you how to climb trees.”

“Agreed,” said the dog. He began teaching the cat that afternoon.

Days passed; the cat watched the dog hunt—she watched his every move. He taught her how to sniff at the earth. “Each animal has its own scent, and if you are observant, you can tell the difference between them.” He taught her how to identify animals from their footprints in the soft earth. “Each animal has its own unique print,” he said, “and if you put your paw in a track and it is more than twice the size of your own, the animal is too big for you to kill.” He showed her how to hide in the bushes, how to move silently and in shadows, and how to pounce so she landed on her prey’s back. “If you bear down on their back and hold tight, they cannot shake you off,” he said. He taught her the softest parts of each animal’s body, places where a well-placed claw would mortally wound or even kill her prey.

When he taught her all he knew, he asked the cat, “Now will you teach me to climb trees?”

“Not just yet,” said the cat. She knew how to hunt, but she had yet to practice her skills; and she was no fool. The cat knew that if the dog could climb trees, none of her kind would ever be safe. “You’ve taught me much but I’ve practiced little. You must give me time to assimilate all the new skills you’ve taught me.”

The dog growled and crouched; he was an impatient creature. As the cat’s fur rose and she backed away he recomposed himself quickly. The cat froze where she stood, ready to flee. “Very well, my friend,” he said. “We will hunt together.”

The cat relaxed and went off with the dog, but now, she no longer trusted him.

They spent days hunting in the forest, the dog taking down large animals while the cat mastered killing things twice her size. Together they sat down each evening to eat their kill—the dog ripping into his while the cat nibbled hers delicately. As predators they roamed the forest, and as predators they bonded. Some days the cat was able to forget that the dog tormented her kind; and the dog forgot that his kind chased and killed cats. But the day came that the hunting went poorly and the cat was the only one to kill prey. Hunger overwhelmed the dog, and in a moment of anger he pounced on the cat. She dropped her meal and slashed the dog with her claws before scrambling up a tree.

With her gone, the hungry dog ate her meal. When his hunger was sated he realized the cat was gone.

He sniffed the earth until he found the tree in which she hid. “My friend,” he called out to the cat as she clung to the branches high above his head, “I am sorry. I was overwhelmed with hunger. Please come back down; I won’t hurt you. And you still have to teach me how to climb trees!”

“You’re crazy!” howled the cat. “And I’m so glad that I never taught you how to climb trees. For if I had, I would be dead right now, as is the game I caught. I knew you were not to be trusted. And now I know all you know about hunting; and you know absolutely nothing about climbing a tree. You’re a fool, dog.”

Since the day that the cat and the dog betrayed each other they have remained enemies; yet the cat, because she was the smarter of the two, is always chased but never caught.