| TIGER'S QUEST Once upon a time, which is a terrible way to begin this story since it has to do with a time before there was such a thing as time - (I think that's the best way to put it) - there was a cat, and the cat was called "Tiger" (but only for the sake of this story, because of course, in his natural habitat, in the land where there was no time, neither were there any names. There was no real reason for this; they simply hadn't been invented yet). Certainly Tiger didn't need one, for nobody knew him anyway. He was just a little grey thing with no distinguishing marks or characteristics who was, for all intents, purposes and cross-purposes - more curious about why he was than what or who he might be. He knew he was a cat, and that a cat was a member of the feline family; and that he had cousins who were much greater in size, status and even situation than he was; he knew also he was possibly related to the king of the jungle lands far across the waters - but since all cats knew these things instinctively, Tiger was not very impressed by it. Tiger accepted the fact that cats slept most of the time, liked playing games, and that they were born hunters. And so he participated in the games, though he wasn't very good at it and thought (as far as that went) cats were on the whole a rather silly lot. Why he thought this he would not have been able to say, but it was true nonetheless. One day, after pouncing on a defenceless flutterby who had happened to land on a leaf nearby - and discovering he didn't like its taste - Tiger did a very peculiar thing, for a cat. Instead of running off chasing the next thing that moved, he sat down on his haunches, scratched an ear, and asked himself (since his instincts didn't apply to the taste of flutterbys) why they had caused him to leap after it in the first place. He could not, however, come up with an answer, except that it might possibly be a form of exercise, this leaping at everything that disturbed the peacefulness and stillness within the range of his vision. This made no sense to Tiger, though. For if it was meant to hone up his hunting skills, or his speed - and it was a habit of his instinct, that meant it could be dangerous, especially if his instinct made him jump the wrong way, perhaps into the jaws of - well, of anything bigger and with more teeth than him, or - even something smaller that had a stinger attached to it. So, from that day on, Tiger vowed to try to control this thing that was a part of him. It was chiefly because of this that he stopped participating in catfighting, too, as he saw how easily and often they became carried away and began to hurt one other, although in the beginning they hadn't meant to. A claw extended instinctively sometimes would rip an ear or open a cut, and the screeching would start. Tiger couldn't stand the screeching. Howling seemed alright - it was a form of catsong; but screeching was different. There was fear in it, and savagery. It was like the taste of the flutterby to Tiger. There was a wrongness in it. So, when the other cats started arguing and hissing and finally, fighting - Tiger would feel his instincts pulling him into the middle of it and then a struggle would begin within himself and after a few failures, he learned to control his own actions by removing himself from the immediate vicinity into the boughs of the nearest tree, where he could be a spectator, observing but not close enough to get caught up in the action. It took Tiger quite some while before he learned the true nature of his predicament - the other cats noticed the changes in his behaviour but of course couldn't relate to them, and so could no longer relate to him. If Tiger had been an ostrich, they would have ostrichized him; since he was a cat, all they were able to do was to try to decatalyse him. As you are probably quite aware, to catalyse something (or someone, in Tiger's case) is to speed up whatever is happening by introducing a substance to the thing (or cat) the something is happening to in a way that the addition will not be changed itself. Which meant the other cats would have to try to slow down whatever was happening to Tiger. What they didn't recognize, however, was that the catalyst itself was thought. They had always been taught (indeed, it was cat law) to live by instincts. Thought was peripheral, somewhere on the outskirts of instinct; and since it was said cats had nine lives anyway, thinking seemed a grand waste of time - even if time didn't yet exist. It wasn't practical, because living by instinct was simpler. It was much more realistic, they said, and cat law said the same thing. One evening, after the howling was over and the screeching was about to begin, Tiger was set upon by four large toms and chased to his tree. One of the braver ones followed, got halfway up, and realized it couldn't turn and climb back down as it had climbed up. It didn't understand the law of gravity and had to let go, push itself away from the tree and leap without having any control over where it might land. It was lucky, though, and missed hitting the sharp edge of a rock by only inches. Tiger thought this over very carefully from his perch high in the tree. He'd learned long ago how to climb down backwards in relative safety, instead of giving in to a natural fear of heights and the instinct to return to the ground as quickly as possible. One day as Tiger was walking through the woods by himself, wondering why his mind seemed to work in a different way than any of the other cats, he noticed a caterpillar shuffling along the stem of a flower. By this time, Tiger's instincts, though as sharp as ever, were almost completely under control; and he sat down to watch the caterpillar, as he liked to study things. Cats, as you know, are very curious beings. For some reason, as he watched, the image of a flutterby came into, or formed in his mind. And he thought, even if he was hungry (which he wasn't) he would not like to sample this little creature that bumped its way along the flower stem. This thought caused him to remember how he had first begun to think that instincts alone could be dangerous if they were left unchecked; and this made him think that maybe, with the addition of thought, his instincts were really much better and more finely tuned than before. But the more he thought about how it had all begun, the more the thought grew that it might be wiser to stop trying to inform the other cats of his remarkable discovery. They would have to learn on their own, as he had. There was no sense in him continuing to scratch out notes on the bark (he would say the skin) of a tree, cataloguing his ideas. Most likely, they would never be able to read them and anyway, they hadn't even learned to climb properly yet. It is the cat law, he thought sadly, and their own fear-controlled instincts that must be overcome or perhaps even shed for a while if they were ever going to listen to him; otherwise they would not be able to listen. So it would be best for all concerned if he left them to their own devices. Maybe, in time, they would learn. If not, well - there was nothing he could do about it. No-one in the cat family likes listening to anyone if the terms of reference are not understood by both parties. Yes, Tiger sighed to the caterpillar (who was absolutely ignoring him) I think I shall go in search of squirrels or raccoons or some such other, even more fear-ridden animal, to see what I may learn from watching them. Perchance also I might discover in my travellings creatures whose experiences have been similar to mine. Certainly, it would be a great thing if it were possible - for I do believe that by remaining where I am there is the chance one day I will give in to my earlier nature, and - (Tiger was able to wax quite eloquent at this stage of his development) - and revert to my former self, ruled by cat laws built on mythconceptions... and lose my wits completely. That would be catastrophic, indeed! And, saying goodbye to the uncomprehending caterpillar, Tiger went off into the Great Unknown, wondering if he would ever be back, and what it would be like then ... knowing, instinctively, his curiosity would forever lead him deeper and deeper into the Mysterious World of Cats and Other Creatures. * * * * * * * As I said at the beginning, this all occurred before there was such a thing as time - but as Tiger learned, things that sometimes seem to be out of time just need a little bit of tuning and catalysing in order for them to be in time. Of course, the question of whether or not Tiger was ever truly catalysed cannot be understood clearly, as we are not cats; but if you can figure it out, I suppose it must mean Tiger's quest might be still going on, somewhere in this world of ours, where time does exist (to some degrees, at any rate). You didn't, did you, just happen to see a rather greyish-looking cat go by? ============C. F. Kennedy |
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