The Cat and Thanksgiving
Dec. 14th, 2004 07:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dimity_blueby Arnie (aka Sarah)
The Cat stood and stretched lazily in the warm Fall sun, then settled herself back down, her tail curled cosily around her paws and her eyes glinting as she watched the children playing.
Times had been hard lately, but with the arrival of the friendly Patuxets things had improved. The Pilgrims had built enough houses to keep their families, (and The Cat, of course!), safe and warm, while advice and help from the Native Americans had led to a good harvest and enough food to see them through the cold, hard Winter that was approaching.
In recognition of that, the Governor of their small settlement, William Bradford, had decided that a three day celebration would take place. The Cat was looking forward to it.
~~~
Samoset, the Patuxet brave, took his place at the heavily laden table and grinned at his old friend, Squanto. When he had dared to walk into the settlement and welcome the newcomers, he had not guessed that it would lead to the Patuxets and the Pilgrims becoming friends. And now, they were to celebrate the Pilgrims' good fortune and the very beginning of the celebration was the feast that lay before them. Several of the foods were strange to Samoset, but the same adventurous trait that had led him to the settlement now urged him to try out the strange looking food before him. A movement caught his eye and he looked up and stared, sure that a Spirit Guide had decided to reward him with a vision.
"The Cat is on the table!" one of the children called out.
The Cat stared directly into Samoset's eyes, daring him to look away and acknowledge her superiority. He froze. The October sun glinted in her eyes leaving flickering shadows that seemed to him to be beckoning him onwards, while at the same time they warned him of the dangers that lay ahead. Curiosity overwhelmed him, tinged with a healthy dose of fear of the unknown, but he could not look away.
Squanto, unaware of the myriad of emotions racing through his friend, laughed. "It is like a small cougar!" he told them. Looking at her he could see that she was every inch a predator, but, like the best or worst of predators, there was something inviting about her soft fur. It wasn't until you got closer that you noticed the sharp fangs and ready claws. He nudged his friend, jerking him out of his reverie. "It is an animal. They call it a cat," he told him.
The Cat turned her head and gave Squanto a look. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers and, with a gesture of atonement, he offered her a piece of his turkey.
The offering was accepted and The Cat jumped down, her prize caught between her teeth.
Samoset took a deep breath, feeling as though it was his first in a long time. He watched The Cat walk away and at the corner of the barn she stopped and looked back. He shivered. He knew that he would be seeing her again and that he would not be rid of her until she had made him her slave.
~~~
The next day saw the Pilgrims and the Native Americans lined up for a race. There was a cry of disapproval when one of the boys, John, edged forward a little, but he was soon pushed back into line and William Bradford held his handkerchief up again.
"Ready..." he roared above the excitement. He paused, smiling wickedly as some of the runners almost fell over themselves in their eagerness to start, then, "Go!"
The handkerchief fluttered to the ground as the line of men surged forward. Two of the Pilgrims were in the lead but they stood no chance against Samoset who was famed in his tribe for being their fastest runner. His bare legs seemed to blur as he headed towards the finish line at a great pace. Suddenly he stopped, his feet skidding on the grass. Directly in his path, and totally taking her leisure, was The Cat.
The paw she was cleaning dropped and she stared at him again, seemingly fascinated by his difference from the people she was used to.
The rest of the racers passed him by, but Samoset neither noticed nor cared. He was caught in her gaze, mesmerised by her beauty and winning the race was no longer important.
Squanto, having won the race, jogged back to where his friend still stood. "What are you doing now?"
Samoset indicated The Cat. "She was in my path."
"The newcomers will be thinking you're a fool," Squanto told him, impatiently, steadfastly refusing to look in The Cat's direction and be as hypnotised as his friend.
The Cat stared haughtily at the pair of them. She didn't know who the loud one thought he was but he was starting to annoy her. With a swish of her tail she got up and stalked away.
However, if Samoset thought he was free of her, he was wrong.
The next two days of the celebration took on a nightmarish quality for Samoset as he seemed to be haunted by The Cat. Wherever he went she was there, her green eyes glowing as she regarded him steadily; whatever he did, she sat and watched him steadily, her attitude being disturbingly neutral. He couldn't tell whether she approved of him or loathed him heartily. Even Squanto noticed the relentless stalking of his friend but his attempts to remove The Cat only led to some blood-letting. His, naturally. The Cat walked away without a mark on her.
Finally the celebrations were over, and Samoset left the Pilgrim settlement with a sigh of relief. At last he would be free of The Cat.
His wife was glad to see his return, although she felt concerned over his reluctance to discuss the three days he'd been away. Finally, curled up in their blankets together, he told her of The Cat. In spite of everything he'd gone through, there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. The Cat's beauty still held him in its sway.
Suddenly his voice trailed off and he sat up.
"What is it?" she asked, wondering what he had heard that she had not.
"She's here." He pushed the blankets to one side and moved to the opening in his tepee.
There, her fur lit by the moonlight, sat The Cat.
Samoset's wife drew close to his side and gasped as she saw The Cat. "She's beautiful!"
The Cat's gaze shifted to the woman and stared into her soul. For minutes no one moved, no one breathed, until The Cat stood and walked forward. She leaned against the woman's leg in passing then settled herself down near the fire.
"What do we do?" Her voice held no rivalry towards The Cat, merely an acceptance of the circumstances and a need to hear her husband accept them too.
He did. "We obey," he told her.
~the end~
DISCLAIMER: The Cat is mine. Her interaction with real people in Plymouth never took place, although the brave Samoset existed, as did his friend Squanto and the Pilgrims who survived to make a life in the New World. Samoset's wife may or may not have existed, I don't know. But if you're feeling affronted at any part of my story, please read this before you email me:
From William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these vision did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Happy Thanksgiving!
The Cat stood and stretched lazily in the warm Fall sun, then settled herself back down, her tail curled cosily around her paws and her eyes glinting as she watched the children playing.
Times had been hard lately, but with the arrival of the friendly Patuxets things had improved. The Pilgrims had built enough houses to keep their families, (and The Cat, of course!), safe and warm, while advice and help from the Native Americans had led to a good harvest and enough food to see them through the cold, hard Winter that was approaching.
In recognition of that, the Governor of their small settlement, William Bradford, had decided that a three day celebration would take place. The Cat was looking forward to it.
~~~
Samoset, the Patuxet brave, took his place at the heavily laden table and grinned at his old friend, Squanto. When he had dared to walk into the settlement and welcome the newcomers, he had not guessed that it would lead to the Patuxets and the Pilgrims becoming friends. And now, they were to celebrate the Pilgrims' good fortune and the very beginning of the celebration was the feast that lay before them. Several of the foods were strange to Samoset, but the same adventurous trait that had led him to the settlement now urged him to try out the strange looking food before him. A movement caught his eye and he looked up and stared, sure that a Spirit Guide had decided to reward him with a vision.
"The Cat is on the table!" one of the children called out.
The Cat stared directly into Samoset's eyes, daring him to look away and acknowledge her superiority. He froze. The October sun glinted in her eyes leaving flickering shadows that seemed to him to be beckoning him onwards, while at the same time they warned him of the dangers that lay ahead. Curiosity overwhelmed him, tinged with a healthy dose of fear of the unknown, but he could not look away.
Squanto, unaware of the myriad of emotions racing through his friend, laughed. "It is like a small cougar!" he told them. Looking at her he could see that she was every inch a predator, but, like the best or worst of predators, there was something inviting about her soft fur. It wasn't until you got closer that you noticed the sharp fangs and ready claws. He nudged his friend, jerking him out of his reverie. "It is an animal. They call it a cat," he told him.
The Cat turned her head and gave Squanto a look. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers and, with a gesture of atonement, he offered her a piece of his turkey.
The offering was accepted and The Cat jumped down, her prize caught between her teeth.
Samoset took a deep breath, feeling as though it was his first in a long time. He watched The Cat walk away and at the corner of the barn she stopped and looked back. He shivered. He knew that he would be seeing her again and that he would not be rid of her until she had made him her slave.
~~~
The next day saw the Pilgrims and the Native Americans lined up for a race. There was a cry of disapproval when one of the boys, John, edged forward a little, but he was soon pushed back into line and William Bradford held his handkerchief up again.
"Ready..." he roared above the excitement. He paused, smiling wickedly as some of the runners almost fell over themselves in their eagerness to start, then, "Go!"
The handkerchief fluttered to the ground as the line of men surged forward. Two of the Pilgrims were in the lead but they stood no chance against Samoset who was famed in his tribe for being their fastest runner. His bare legs seemed to blur as he headed towards the finish line at a great pace. Suddenly he stopped, his feet skidding on the grass. Directly in his path, and totally taking her leisure, was The Cat.
The paw she was cleaning dropped and she stared at him again, seemingly fascinated by his difference from the people she was used to.
The rest of the racers passed him by, but Samoset neither noticed nor cared. He was caught in her gaze, mesmerised by her beauty and winning the race was no longer important.
Squanto, having won the race, jogged back to where his friend still stood. "What are you doing now?"
Samoset indicated The Cat. "She was in my path."
"The newcomers will be thinking you're a fool," Squanto told him, impatiently, steadfastly refusing to look in The Cat's direction and be as hypnotised as his friend.
The Cat stared haughtily at the pair of them. She didn't know who the loud one thought he was but he was starting to annoy her. With a swish of her tail she got up and stalked away.
However, if Samoset thought he was free of her, he was wrong.
The next two days of the celebration took on a nightmarish quality for Samoset as he seemed to be haunted by The Cat. Wherever he went she was there, her green eyes glowing as she regarded him steadily; whatever he did, she sat and watched him steadily, her attitude being disturbingly neutral. He couldn't tell whether she approved of him or loathed him heartily. Even Squanto noticed the relentless stalking of his friend but his attempts to remove The Cat only led to some blood-letting. His, naturally. The Cat walked away without a mark on her.
Finally the celebrations were over, and Samoset left the Pilgrim settlement with a sigh of relief. At last he would be free of The Cat.
His wife was glad to see his return, although she felt concerned over his reluctance to discuss the three days he'd been away. Finally, curled up in their blankets together, he told her of The Cat. In spite of everything he'd gone through, there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. The Cat's beauty still held him in its sway.
Suddenly his voice trailed off and he sat up.
"What is it?" she asked, wondering what he had heard that she had not.
"She's here." He pushed the blankets to one side and moved to the opening in his tepee.
There, her fur lit by the moonlight, sat The Cat.
Samoset's wife drew close to his side and gasped as she saw The Cat. "She's beautiful!"
The Cat's gaze shifted to the woman and stared into her soul. For minutes no one moved, no one breathed, until The Cat stood and walked forward. She leaned against the woman's leg in passing then settled herself down near the fire.
"What do we do?" Her voice held no rivalry towards The Cat, merely an acceptance of the circumstances and a need to hear her husband accept them too.
He did. "We obey," he told her.
~the end~
DISCLAIMER: The Cat is mine. Her interaction with real people in Plymouth never took place, although the brave Samoset existed, as did his friend Squanto and the Pilgrims who survived to make a life in the New World. Samoset's wife may or may not have existed, I don't know. But if you're feeling affronted at any part of my story, please read this before you email me:
From William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these vision did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Happy Thanksgiving!