Noble Little King
“Tiger! What have
you done?” the old woman said. She flailed her pale, wrinkled hands at him as
she tutted and fussed about the blood splattered on the floor. “You’re a
menace!”
He admired the freshly mauled mouse at her feet. Pest control fell under his purview and provided him the opportunity to honor his patron. This mouse proved particularly challenging as it adapted to his tactics on the fly. Tiger almost regretted killing it and ending the chase. Almost. Victory outweighed respect in the end, as it should.
Most mice scurried about mindlessly. They took the obvious escape routes and offered only a mild distraction. He generally allowed his prey a little time to prove themselves, but it always ended the same way. An energetic pounce to catch them off-guard, extended claws to immobilize them, and sharp teeth to sever the spinal cord. The perfect combination every time.
Tiger straightened his spine and met her eyes. The old woman was a wonderful benefactor, but he’d watched enough documentaries to know his place in the animal kingdom. His Nile Valley ancestors were worshiped as gods. If he intended to earn god-like status, he must be exemplary in every way. He hunted with the keen eye of his namesake, the speed of a cheetah, and the precision of an African black-foot. His regal responsibility demanded it.
Lifting an orange paw to his face, he began his usual cleaning ritual. Not only did a thorough wash remove traces of blood and restore his fangs and fur to their former glory, but it calmed him as well. The task soothed the rush of adrenaline that urged him to seek out a new prey.
“For one little mouse, you’ve destroyed the entire living room!” she said, sweeping her hand toward the pieces of a vase, various pillows, and an overturned lamp.
The old woman muttered under her breath as she cleared away the blood. He supposed her mind was addled with age and lack of imagination. She wrapped the mouse in newspaper and tossed it in the bin. It seemed wasteful to throw away a perfectly good meal, but she insisted on cleaning them up herself.
Tiger brushed his tail along her legs in acknowledgment of her services. She was an excellent patron. Despite her protests, she would undoubtedly spend the next hour restoring this temple at great personal cost. Tiger had devoted many years to supervising her efforts and wanted to encourage her. What the old woman lacked in speed she made up for with grim determination. That hardy attitude was worthy of his admiration.
She settled into her favorite armchair once her cleaning was done and reached down into the cloth basket at her feet. In an attempt to brighten her mood, Tiger pounced onto the basket and swatted playfully at her hands. The old woman scoffed and pushed him away. He leapt into the basket and wrestled with a ball of string.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of there, you rascal!”
He buried himself in the string and looped it around his limbs and body. When he was thoroughly nested in it, Tiger grinned up at her. The old woman tried her best to ignore him. She pulled at the strings and attempted to re-wrap it into a neat and tidy ball. He tugged the ball out of her hands and wrestled it into submission.
“Oh! Stop that!” she lectured, wagging her finger at him.
Tiger reached out with his paws and hugged her hand to his chest. He rubbed his forehead against her hand and licked her fingers affectionately. The old woman’s lips twitched into a smile as he snuggled his face into her palm.
“Such a charmer, aren’t you? Always playing my heart-strings like a violin.”
She lifted him bodily from the basket and freed Tiger from the bonds of string. With an impressively smooth motion, she rolled him into the crook of her arm and began a combination of head-scratching and belly-rubbing that triggered a contented vibration in his chest. His larynx and diaphragm contracted sharply around every breath to delight his patron with the comforting sound. The old woman leaned down and pressed a kiss to his head, so Tiger nuzzled her cheek in appreciation.
“Now you settle down, Tiger. Give this old matron a rest, will you?” she said. “How about a nice documentary?”
When she turned on the television, Tiger decided he’d accomplished enough for today and could devote the rest of the afternoon to resetting his circadian rhythm. Crepuscular creatures required extensive rest during the day and he was already overdue. He didn’t mind postponing sleep for a worthy adversary, but needed to compensate afterwards. A well-earned victory overshadowed any temporary changes to his routine.
A graceful leap into the windowsill led to his favorite resting spot. This overhead hide-a-away was inspired by panthers who nested in trees while the afternoon sun beamed through the window and soothed their weary muscles. It also offered the perfect vantage point to monitor his patron’s progress. The old woman often commented to her friends about how grateful she was for his company, so he felt obligated to remain close.
Tiger draped his tail over the edge of the window sill and allowed it to wave and curl at will. This exercise kept it flexible and strong. A strong tail was vital for any hunter. The closest his patron achieved was winding her string around a pair of sticks and then tying the string in knots. While he found the activity entertaining to watch and the string fun to chase, there was no benefit to her physical strength.
He was troubled by her frustration though. Tiger wondered if she knew how many of his kills remained hidden beneath furniture. Some were even under her own bed. The sheer number of poisonous arachnids he’d dispatched on her behalf alone should please her. Just as clearly, dead mice were unmistakable proof of his affection. Perhaps she needed a larger sacrifice as thanks for her services. Tiger folded his paws underneath his chin and listened to the intrepid voice from the television detail the deadliest animals to man.
*****
A sudden chill in the air roused Tiger from his nap. He shivered and stretched his body in an attempt to warm his muscles. The moon peered over his shoulder and cast a lovely shadow of his lithe figure across the floor. If the old woman could see it. Unfortunately, the darkness exposed her greatest weaknesses: poor eyesight and terrible balance. She wisely chose to retire early every evening rather than risk a fall.
Tiger surveyed the room with interest and noted the extensive repairs she’d made to the space. He jumped down to the floor and padded across the cold tile to his food bowl. As she always did, his faithful patron left him kibble to satisfy his hunger and a handful of tuna treats to delight his palette. Tiger sat primly on his haunches once he’d finished and wrapped his tail around his legs. Even after such a productive afternoon, the old woman still remembered her offering. Such loyalty deserved an appropriate reward.
There were very few prey options here in the house that merited the reward he had in mind. Tiger needed to expand his search quickly. He walked along the perimeter of the room and scanned for signs of movement. Only a skittering beetle crossed his path. He wandered down the hallway and inspected all of the windows, but they were closed tight. The old woman was dutiful in her tasks.
Tiger paused in the doorway of her bedroom. He listened to her slow and shaky breaths as she slept. The old woman persevered through each one with a labored rise and fall of her chest. Tiger stepped in the room and flicked his gaze from corner to corner. There was an erratic energy in here. He could sense its restlessness. Tiger was calm and his patron slumbered, so that left only one alternative. Prey.
He jumped up onto the old woman’s bed and nimbly stepped along the edge. With a measured leap, he landed in the window sill. He slowly lowered his stance to a crouch. Tiger used the moonlight streaming through the window to his advantage. A detailed scan of the room revealed nothing. The prey was clever. Excellent.
Several visual sweeps of the room offered no clues. Tiger relaxed his stance and studied a shift in the shadows under the bureau. He recalled there was a small opening in the wall where many of the mice squeezed through. The old woman seemed unaware of the entrance despite his multiple attempts to draw her attention to it. Given her advanced age, he knew some allowances were necessary.
The shadows shifted again. Tiger tilted his head as he watched the smooth motion of a slim form ease through the hole. His curiosity was piqued. Tiger stretched his paws over the edge, slinking back down to the bed. He remained low to the mattress as he crawled toward the edge keeping his eyes transfixed on the movement. A subtle rattling sound broke the stillness of the air as a pair of beady black eyes glistened in the moonlight. Rattlesnake.
Tiger’s fur bristled all the way down his spine. His initial instinct was to flee and return to his elevated hiding spot to avoid the dangerous foe. It took every ounce of his courage to remain in striking distance knowing snakes were on the list. The television named them as one of the deadliest creatures to human-kind. Deadliest.
He crept over the old woman’s legs and peered over the top of the quilt at the snake. Its tail quivered in the air behind the seemingly endless coils. Tiger glanced down at the old woman’s peacefully slumbering face. If the snake struck her neck fast enough, she’d never even know what bit her. Perhaps a quick death would be preferable to a few more years of doddering around this humble home of hers. A flash of indignation ended this line of thinking immediately.
The longer he waited, the greater the danger. His duty was to protect his patron at all costs. The old woman was defenseless against such a predator and her unfailing loyalty had earned his protection. Narrowing his eyes, Tiger watched the scaly body twist and turn behind the snake as it uncoiled. Timing was important when facing an enemy of this caliber. He eased his long, orange body over the side of the bed. His paws barely brushed the floor as he approached the creature from behind. The snake’s attention was focused on the floor as its body undulated into neat coils. It was now or never.
He crouched low to the floor, every muscle tight. Pounce, immobilize, sever. The perfect combination. A brief moment of doubt flickered across his mind. Tiger froze with his body poised to strike. If he failed, he left the old woman to face the snake alone. Failure meant certain death for both of them. The great Bastet would never welcome him as a deity if he succumbed to a lowly rattlesnake.
Tiger channeled the old woman’s grim determination while remembering her faithful service and unwavering loyalty. This hunt was for her. All vestiges of nobility were cast aside as he glared at the snake. There would be no opportunity for the snake to prove itself. Victory or death.
He launched his body in the air and unleashed the full strength of his back legs. The snake whipped around seconds before Tiger embedded his fangs into the snake’s neck. Its muscles tensed beneath his grip while he fought to hold on. The snake twisted its long body and lunged its wide-open mouth at his furry backside.
Instinct took over Tiger’s mind. He clenched his teeth and wrenched the snake’s head clean off. The body fell to the floor beneath him with its muscles twitching wildly. The rich scent of blood filled the air and triggered a visceral instinct to howl in celebration. Tiger dropped the snake’s head, leaned back, and lifted his voice to the moon as pride burst from his chest. Victory!
The old woman scrambled out of her bed and patted the wall for the light switch. Immediately, a beacon beamed down upon him to illuminate the glory of his prize. The snake lay prone with its coils limp and lifeless in the crimson pool. Its decapitated head lay face up with fangs bared in a death-throes homage to the threat he faced in her honor. Her ragged gasp was praise enough. Within that breath held her deepest gratitude and unbridled awe.
“Tiger! What have you done?”
Despite his blood coated face, she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled him to her chest. Her eyes widened as she looked around the room and her mouth dropped open in shock. The old woman’s trembling hand cradled his head as she met his bold green eyes. The fear faded from her face and relief settled into her features as he purred contentedly in her arms.
“You foolish cat! That rattlesnake could have killed you!” she said, burying her face in the back of his neck. “What would I do without my noble little king?”
Tiger purred with renewed fervor at her words. His patron was pleased with this kill. He was no longer a menace and was her noble little king once again.
Comments
Post a Comment