Dribbler in the Jungle It was a sticky afternoon in mid August when Dribbler left the shed roof, in search of adventure. He had a yen to explore further a-field; to visit strange lands, and belittle the indigenous feline population with displays of bravery and derring-do. He would come home a conquering hero, with fragrant garlands round his neck and, quite possibly, wearing the pelts of several other animals. He was not sure what destiny had in store for him, but instinct led him to believe that it would be revealed to him somewhere on the other side of the neighbours' fence.
Dribbler tromped through the long grass towards the back of the garden, under the fence and out the other side. Thus far, there had been little change in his surroundings and so it continued, for what seemed a very long time. However, after an hour or two, the undergrowth became somewhat denser and he found himself having to force his way through. Burrs and sticky things stuck to his belly and tail. Clouds of insects rose up in front of him, but he brushed his way past as if they were so many dust motes. The sun beat down and warmed his coat as he thrust his way through dandelions and thistles. A length of bindweed wound its way around his thick body, adorning the thick, brown pelt with the fragile, bell-shaped flowers.
At length, after pulling his way through a tunnel-like structure of brambles and trailing vines, he found himself in a small clearing, open to the bright, blue sky. He paused to look about him and quietly washed a paw, whilst he reflected. Could one observe his thought processes, they would have seen something like this:
" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."
Or this,
" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."
Thinking did not come easily to Dribbler. He had no need of it. The things he knew had arrived in his walnut-sized brain fully formed. He had no need to cogitate on the tastiness of fish or the nastiness of vegetables. Exhausted, he stretched himself out on the brilliant grass and closed his eyes. Lazily, he contemplated exposing the butter-creamy expanse of his belly to the sun's rays and was just about to roll over when he was disturbed by a languid voice:
"Well, hel-lo!"
Dribbler scrabbled upright.
"Oh. Hullo!" he said, in the language that cats use with other cats. (This was a very big cat indeed). "You must be my cousin, from over the way."
"That rather depends," replied the lion (for such he was). "What is your name, little beast?"
"My name" said Dribbler is, "ah... um." His mouth had gone dry.
"Hmmmm," rumbled the lion, scratching his mane with a gigantic paw. "I don't recall anyone of that name." He stopped, and thought for a moment or two. "Hmmmm hmmm. Are you quite sure about the name?"
"Ah... um...," said Dribbler, frantically washing. Under the circumstances, it seemed the sensible thing to do.
"Hmmm hmmm. I don't think I've ever met an "ah - um" before. What a shame. It looks like I'm going to have to eat you. Is it lunchtime, yet?"
The 'lunch' finished extracting a particularly troublesome bur from its fur and spat it out. "My name is Dribbler", it said, "And I am your long lost relative from over the way."
"Ah. Yes. Why didn't you say so at once? Hmmm hmmmm. That puts a different complexion on the matter. You must be from the diminutive branch of the family. Strange lot. Interbred, or so i'm told. Hmmmmm hmmmmmm. Now, where did you say you were from, little beast?"
"From far, far away," replied Dribbler. It was the best answer he could come up with.
"Hmmmm hmmmm. I see. And what very pretty flowers you're wearing. I wonder what they're called. You know, they really are rather becoming!"
"Just a little something I picked up," said Dribbler, casually raking an ear.
"Really, very becoming. Hmmmm hmmmm. And what have you brought for me?"
Lion smiled at Dribbler and his mouth was red and wet."I beg your pardon?" said Dribbler.
"What have you brought me?" repeated the lion, and this time he grinned. His mouth was full of sharp, white teeth. "Surely you wouldn't come visiting your old relative without bringing me a little something?"
"Ulp" said Dribbler. "What did you have in mind, exactly?"
"Hmmmmm hmmmmm. I don't really know," drawled Lion, waving a paw unconcernedly. "Something small? And tasty? A tasty little something? You know the kind of thing, I am sure."
Dribbler's tail drooped.
"I - I forgot", he squeaked, and followed it up with a further "ulp" for good measure.
"Ah. That is a pity. Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmm. It's jolly lucky you remembered to bring yourself, isn't it? You did remember to bring yourself, did you not, little beast?"
"But! But! But you can't eat ME!" exclaimed Dribbler. "I'm family!"
"Hmmmmm. You don't look like any relative of mine. In fact, to be perfectly honest,I'd say that you looked more like A RAT."
But Lion was talking to the air, for Dribbler had turned tail and was even now whisking through the long grass as if his life depended on it.
In truth, it didn't. Lion had just eaten a whole zebra and was not in the least bit hungry; he was, to tell the truth, much too full to move.
He did, however, like to have his little joke.
* * * * * Dribbler arrived home in good time for his evening meal. Tall and Tallest were all over him like an infestation of lice. He shrugged them off and padded over to his bowls.
He buried his head and began to eat.
~ End ~
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