For Alexandra, of course.
Once upon a time there was a cat called Luda—Luda Cat to his friends. Now this cat was a Minnesota farm cat who had relocated to the Twin Cities at the tender age of one year old. Whether or not he had moved to the big city to seek his fame and fortune, this clever cat soon learned that the safe life of a house cat was far different from the free life of a farm cat. Don’t get me wrong: Luda’s human roommate was a good enough fellow who liked watching movies with Luda, gave him ample food and drink, and often played Luda’s favorite 4 AM game: Chase the Cat. (The trick to getting a tired human to play Chase the Cat at 4 AM is to cat around, scratching expensive furniture or knocking breakable things over, until the human has no choice but to chase the cat.)
One December evening, Luda’s roommate’s girlfriend asked him why Luda Cat often crouched outside the bathroom. Tipsy from two days of feverish flu, he remarked that Luda Cat was waiting for some dragon to come through a portal located in the bathroom. Like the slayer in Buffy’s world, Luda was a cat ordained to protect humans from dangerous dragons who can appear suddenly through carefully hidden portals. As is usually the case when humans joke about cats, Luda’s roommate had no idea that Luda the Royal Cat (as he is known among other dragon-hunting cats) was in fact the fearsome dragon-slayer he had joked Luda was.
Now, most of you overly logical humans are probably wondering how a small house cat, even one with one year of life experience as a Minnesota farm cat, could possibly slay a hefty dragon. Cats do not worry themselves with such futile inquiries. You see, cats understand in ways that humans never will that ingenuity can always trump brute force or even massive size. No fire-breathing dragon, no matter how sharp-clawed or tough-scaled, has a prayer against a clever cat who intends to kill that dragon. Luda the Royal Cat was not chosen for his good looks, which he has in abundance, but for his unstoppable cunning at killing particularly dangerous dragons.
Okay, okay, you are undoubtedly puzzling over why humans have not been stumbling over all these dragon carcasses if an average house cat can slay them. First, a dragon-hunting cat is no average house cat. Second, even by dragon-hunting cat standards, Luda the Royal Cat is exceptionally proficient. And third, killing dragons is only half of the dragon-hunter’s work; the other half is getting rid of the evidence that the dragon even existed. But we will get to that later.
On Christmas Eve night, after Luda’s roommate and his girlfriend were deep asleep, no doubt dreaming of sugar plums and hoping jolly old Santy Claws would show up, Luda the Royal Cat was crouched outside the bathroom. His feline ears swiveled to catch the first sign of an attacking dragon. Around 4 AM, a slightly burning scent tickled Luda’s sensitive nose. He knew as only a dragon-hunting cat could know that soon he, Luda the Royal Cat, would be locked in epic battle against a fire-breathing dragon.
Now, before I continue my tale, I need to footnote a few key points about dragons. First, they cannot breathe fire all the time. They can shoot fire in long finite spurts, but then they need time to reload, so to speak. Second, dragon scales are tough and fireproof, but like fish scales, they lie like shingles on a roof. Thus, if you lift a dragon scale, you will find vulnerable flesh which any sword can pierce.
Luda Cat was ready when he saw a menacing dragon’s head appear in the bathtub. He knew the dragon could not shoot fire before fully exiting the magic portal. Yawning as if he were sleepy, Luda tricked the dragon into believing the cat was unprepared. And as yawns are contagious, the dragon yawned before fully exiting the portal.
Quick as a flash, Luda the Royal Cat sprang right into the dragon’s mouth. With sharp claws and feline precision, Luda tore deep gashes in the dragon’s tongue and ran out just as the dragon came fully out of the portal. Now the dragon could shoot his fire, but thanks to the gashes Luda inflicted, the angry dragon could not aim accurately. All Luda had to do was race around while the frustrated dragon tried in vain to roast the clever cat.
Okay, okay, you want to know how it is that Luda’s home was not burned down during this fiery Chase the Cat routine. Boy, humans sure interrupt stories a lot. Can’t you just listen and be patient, you know, like a cat?
Once the dragon’s deadly fire was spent, Luda had one less dragon trick to worry about, that is, for four to five minutes, which is the typical reload time for dragon fire. Frustrated and angry, the dragon was not about to let some cuddly housecat best him in an epic battle to the death. He came at Luda with sharp dragon claws and a massive bone-crushing tail.
Fortunately, all of those 4 AM Chase the Cat sessions had made Luda the Royal Cat faster and more agile than any lumbering dragon could deal with. Darting between and around the dragon’s legs and tail, Luda tricked the dragon into clawing some of his own scales off. Unfortunately, the ensuing racket woke up Luda’s human roommate.
The prime directive for any dragon-hunting cat is to protect humans from dragons. Unlike cats, humans are much more vulnerable to large sharp-clawed fire-breathing dragons because they believe that size does matter and they tend to give up more easily than cats ever do. Anyway, Luda knew he had to work even faster than usual, for if his roommate saw the dragon, life could no longer resume as it had been going. Humans need explanations and waste their time, energy, and health pursuing what every cat knows is essentially irrelevant: Things happen, life goes on, but explanations only produce health-diminishing anxiety. Aside from vacuum cleaners, noisy obnoxious devices, cats do not let anything or anyone give them anxiety. (The cats in Edgar Allan Poe’s stories may be the rare exception, but even those cats relieved their anxiety through revenge against disrespectful humans.)
Remembering the time a veterinarian inappropriately groped Luda and the offended Luda locked all four claws into the vet’s face, this clever cat jumped on the dragon’s head and sank his sharp claws into the vulnerable flesh of the dragon. Bleeding profusely, the dragon panicked, for dragons fear the sight of their own blood, and jumped back into the magic portal, disappearing with Luda before the human roommate could see what had caused the racket. (When dragons go through a portal, all remains—blood, scales, fire-scorched inanimate objects—disappear. Only dead bodies remain.)
The next morning, Christmas Day in the morn, Luda’s human roommate and his girlfriend woke up, kissed each other, and headed out to make Christmas breakfast.
“Where’s that crafty cat?” The sleepy roommate wondered aloud. “That surreptitious cat is always off hiding somewhere.”
After breakfast and gift-giving, the girlfriend worried aloud: “Where’s Luda Cat? He usually makes an appearance by the time we sit down to breakfast.”
“Luda? Luda Cat?” The roommate called out. “Where’s that cat at?”
From the bedroom closet, which had no door but hosted a magic portal, Luda came scampering into the room, meowing his Christmas cheer. Luda’s roommate gave the feline’s ears an affectionate scratching. “I wish our lives could be as carefree as yours, Luda Cat.”
And Luda the Royal Cat, courageous but modest to the core, merely grinned, as all cats grin when humans reveal how oblivious they are to the true lives of cats.
Once upon a time there was a cat called Luda—Luda Cat to his friends. Now this cat was a Minnesota farm cat who had relocated to the Twin Cities at the tender age of one year old. Whether or not he had moved to the big city to seek his fame and fortune, this clever cat soon learned that the safe life of a house cat was far different from the free life of a farm cat. Don’t get me wrong: Luda’s human roommate was a good enough fellow who liked watching movies with Luda, gave him ample food and drink, and often played Luda’s favorite 4 AM game: Chase the Cat. (The trick to getting a tired human to play Chase the Cat at 4 AM is to cat around, scratching expensive furniture or knocking breakable things over, until the human has no choice but to chase the cat.)
One December evening, Luda’s roommate’s girlfriend asked him why Luda Cat often crouched outside the bathroom. Tipsy from two days of feverish flu, he remarked that Luda Cat was waiting for some dragon to come through a portal located in the bathroom. Like the slayer in Buffy’s world, Luda was a cat ordained to protect humans from dangerous dragons who can appear suddenly through carefully hidden portals. As is usually the case when humans joke about cats, Luda’s roommate had no idea that Luda the Royal Cat (as he is known among other dragon-hunting cats) was in fact the fearsome dragon-slayer he had joked Luda was.
Now, most of you overly logical humans are probably wondering how a small house cat, even one with one year of life experience as a Minnesota farm cat, could possibly slay a hefty dragon. Cats do not worry themselves with such futile inquiries. You see, cats understand in ways that humans never will that ingenuity can always trump brute force or even massive size. No fire-breathing dragon, no matter how sharp-clawed or tough-scaled, has a prayer against a clever cat who intends to kill that dragon. Luda the Royal Cat was not chosen for his good looks, which he has in abundance, but for his unstoppable cunning at killing particularly dangerous dragons.
Okay, okay, you are undoubtedly puzzling over why humans have not been stumbling over all these dragon carcasses if an average house cat can slay them. First, a dragon-hunting cat is no average house cat. Second, even by dragon-hunting cat standards, Luda the Royal Cat is exceptionally proficient. And third, killing dragons is only half of the dragon-hunter’s work; the other half is getting rid of the evidence that the dragon even existed. But we will get to that later.
On Christmas Eve night, after Luda’s roommate and his girlfriend were deep asleep, no doubt dreaming of sugar plums and hoping jolly old Santy Claws would show up, Luda the Royal Cat was crouched outside the bathroom. His feline ears swiveled to catch the first sign of an attacking dragon. Around 4 AM, a slightly burning scent tickled Luda’s sensitive nose. He knew as only a dragon-hunting cat could know that soon he, Luda the Royal Cat, would be locked in epic battle against a fire-breathing dragon.
Now, before I continue my tale, I need to footnote a few key points about dragons. First, they cannot breathe fire all the time. They can shoot fire in long finite spurts, but then they need time to reload, so to speak. Second, dragon scales are tough and fireproof, but like fish scales, they lie like shingles on a roof. Thus, if you lift a dragon scale, you will find vulnerable flesh which any sword can pierce.
Luda Cat was ready when he saw a menacing dragon’s head appear in the bathtub. He knew the dragon could not shoot fire before fully exiting the magic portal. Yawning as if he were sleepy, Luda tricked the dragon into believing the cat was unprepared. And as yawns are contagious, the dragon yawned before fully exiting the portal.
Quick as a flash, Luda the Royal Cat sprang right into the dragon’s mouth. With sharp claws and feline precision, Luda tore deep gashes in the dragon’s tongue and ran out just as the dragon came fully out of the portal. Now the dragon could shoot his fire, but thanks to the gashes Luda inflicted, the angry dragon could not aim accurately. All Luda had to do was race around while the frustrated dragon tried in vain to roast the clever cat.
Okay, okay, you want to know how it is that Luda’s home was not burned down during this fiery Chase the Cat routine. Boy, humans sure interrupt stories a lot. Can’t you just listen and be patient, you know, like a cat?
Once the dragon’s deadly fire was spent, Luda had one less dragon trick to worry about, that is, for four to five minutes, which is the typical reload time for dragon fire. Frustrated and angry, the dragon was not about to let some cuddly housecat best him in an epic battle to the death. He came at Luda with sharp dragon claws and a massive bone-crushing tail.
Fortunately, all of those 4 AM Chase the Cat sessions had made Luda the Royal Cat faster and more agile than any lumbering dragon could deal with. Darting between and around the dragon’s legs and tail, Luda tricked the dragon into clawing some of his own scales off. Unfortunately, the ensuing racket woke up Luda’s human roommate.
The prime directive for any dragon-hunting cat is to protect humans from dragons. Unlike cats, humans are much more vulnerable to large sharp-clawed fire-breathing dragons because they believe that size does matter and they tend to give up more easily than cats ever do. Anyway, Luda knew he had to work even faster than usual, for if his roommate saw the dragon, life could no longer resume as it had been going. Humans need explanations and waste their time, energy, and health pursuing what every cat knows is essentially irrelevant: Things happen, life goes on, but explanations only produce health-diminishing anxiety. Aside from vacuum cleaners, noisy obnoxious devices, cats do not let anything or anyone give them anxiety. (The cats in Edgar Allan Poe’s stories may be the rare exception, but even those cats relieved their anxiety through revenge against disrespectful humans.)
Remembering the time a veterinarian inappropriately groped Luda and the offended Luda locked all four claws into the vet’s face, this clever cat jumped on the dragon’s head and sank his sharp claws into the vulnerable flesh of the dragon. Bleeding profusely, the dragon panicked, for dragons fear the sight of their own blood, and jumped back into the magic portal, disappearing with Luda before the human roommate could see what had caused the racket. (When dragons go through a portal, all remains—blood, scales, fire-scorched inanimate objects—disappear. Only dead bodies remain.)
The next morning, Christmas Day in the morn, Luda’s human roommate and his girlfriend woke up, kissed each other, and headed out to make Christmas breakfast.
“Where’s that crafty cat?” The sleepy roommate wondered aloud. “That surreptitious cat is always off hiding somewhere.”
After breakfast and gift-giving, the girlfriend worried aloud: “Where’s Luda Cat? He usually makes an appearance by the time we sit down to breakfast.”
“Luda? Luda Cat?” The roommate called out. “Where’s that cat at?”
From the bedroom closet, which had no door but hosted a magic portal, Luda came scampering into the room, meowing his Christmas cheer. Luda’s roommate gave the feline’s ears an affectionate scratching. “I wish our lives could be as carefree as yours, Luda Cat.”
And Luda the Royal Cat, courageous but modest to the core, merely grinned, as all cats grin when humans reveal how oblivious they are to the true lives of cats.
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