Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 7

“On the last episode of Raining Cats & Dogs, Alex made peace with her dead deadbeat dad dog. She gave Fido a kind eulogy, thanking him for the ‘one good deed’ she know he did in secret.

A good deed no one really believed Fido was capable of doing.

Alex’s speech was heartfelt. But Aimee the wiener dog doubted Alex’s sincerity and even suggested to Bessie that she may have been Fido’s murderer.

Bessie replied to Aimee saying, “You’re a silly bitch,” in the nicest way possible.

Because using the word bitch to a female dog is actually a compliment.

But life is a bitch sometimes, and in this episode Fido’s betrayer will be revealed.

Confused?  You won’t be after this episode of Raining Cats & Dogs.

Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 1
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 2
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 3
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 4
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 5
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 6
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 7
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 8
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 9
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 10
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 11

Chapter 4: The Deluge

Only one ever knew of Fido’s experimentation with altruism.

The single good deed Fido was capable of was neither widely known nor was it an irrefutably selfless act. In order to understand Fido’s death one would certainly have to understand his life, his snafued logic and the gradual deterioration that took place in his body and mind.

One could only assume that after Fido abandoned his second family that he sought refuge in Far East Texas, a land to his surprise that was dominated by cats and dogs alike. However, to Fido these canines and felines were much larger than the species he had grown accustomed to in civilized society. One could only envision Fido’s incredulous stare as he beheld freakishly large pussies walking freely; the barbarity of the bobcat, a predatory beast capable of overpowering sheep and goats; the reclusive and fearless mountain lion bold enough to feast on elk and bighorn sheep; and the calm calculating jaguarondi, a smaller enemy with a familiar form but with the uncanny ability to spring and jump into the sky.

One believes Fido surely viewed these animals as cat-ological monstrosities, perversions of nature far too intimidating to challenge. Even the wolves he found to be too agrarian for his comfort. They shared his form but not his spirit; these larger dogs traveled in packs and formed a brotherhood of xenophobic vagabonds that was much too jaundiced to penetrate.

Only one knew of Fido’s error, failure and, ultimately, his vindication.

Fido’s error was, of course, his arrogance, as he refused to submit to proper human authority—or more to the point—the proper authority as dictated by time and circumstances. Those who Fido dishonored in his arrogance never forgot the slight. Some of those, one in particular, even saw fit to keep close tabs on Fido as he ventured out into the fields of East Texas, which were not nearly as remote as the dumb bastard believed. For years, one studied Fido’s character from a distance, pondering the utility of his existence, and imagining what resources even the most obstinate brute had to offer a thinking dog.

His failure manifested itself one hot summer day as he met his destiny and took decisive inaction so as to ruin a master scheme that was greater than his wonted existence.

A sleeping Fido twitched and turned until he awoke in front of a particularly brazen and unkempt face. Fido’s eyes opened wide, anxious for only a moment, until he realized this feline was not one of the mysterious cat-gods of the mountains, but some sort of domesticated pussy.

“Who are you?” the kitten hissed. The kitten looked young and slightly starved but had a full body of hair, from whiskers to toes, reminding Fido of a giant hairball of snow. This puffball in particular was unafraid of dog scent and peered into his larger opponent’s eyes without hesitance. He was unusually high as he sent this glower, standing on his hind legs and holding his smaller legs, up ferret-like. This fur ball was a bit a mutation in his own right.

Fido smacked his lips, getting up slowly and ignoring the foul-smelling creature. “None of your business.”

“Oh? Do you not fear me?” meowed the runt. “Have you not heard of the power and the speed of the mountain lion?”

Fido snorted off laughter. “I have seen mountain lions, puffball. They are the most horrendous of creatures. Aberrations of nature. You, though, are just a puff of hair with legs. In my day, I’d have torn you to pieces.”

“Ah, in your day,” the kitten smirked, puffing up his tail in confidence. “Now the old dog lies and whines. His ambitions growing as frail as his bones.”

Fido growled and met the diminutive puffball’s tiny, judgmental face. “I am afraid of nothing. I have seen much bloodshed in my time. In my waning years I choose to fill my time with solitude, not fighting. Be thankful of this. Be thankful that you are not destined to become a bloody pussy on this day.” Fido turned aside his head, readying to walk away.

The puffball replied, “You should be grateful, bitch. For in my growing years I will exceed the size of a mountain lion. I will grow and grow until dogs are like rodents to me. Then I shall be the one doing the maiming and the persecution. For a change.”

“The persecution?” Fido barked. “It seems to me, youngling, that your species has been the primary persecutors of our race. Intruding upon our territory and manipulating human beings—the foulest of all dumb brutes—to do your bidding.”

“What a bizarre perception you have, you old fart! I come from a land where cats have been repeatedly tormented by your kind. Even those in subjectivity are kept as slaves and given the most inferior food and accommodation. But at least you agree that human beings are the problem. Meddling and overbearing creatures, to say the least.”

“Of that much we agree. If it were up to me, I would segregate cats from dogs, and let the foul breed disgrace themselves away from the finer breed.”

“Yes, I agree, I would segregate dogs from cats, and let them go home to their filth and their debauchery, while superior feline life thrives in a more bounteous region.”

“Then we agree! So hump off and see to the segregation of your own kind, puffball.”

“I have no human name!” the cat snarled. “You be gone to your dogmatic ways. Hump a leg and chase after your master’s bone. By all means, perform your meaningless rituals and let man save you.”

“Bah!” and “Bah!” to one another they replied. Fido went three lengths to the east while the puffball journeyed to the west. Puffball moved slowly and uncertainly, a starving kitty with hardly a beg in the world.

Five minutes removed from the contestable conversation, Fido saw a grand opportunity. A sleeping rabbit in a bush, juicy as can of dog food, with enough fat to last a few days. Fido didn’t think twice about the ramifications of taking rabbit life, because rabbit language was so incomprehensible and their species so unaffectionate and primitive. As Fido tore into the rabbit’s flesh with his sharp teeth, he thought back to the fur ball runt probably starving and only a day away from total starvation. A good dog, he concluded, would share this meal. If only he were a good dog.

As Fido chewed his lunch and dinner for the next few hours, he started to notice features in the bunny he had not seen previously. The bunny’s eyes looked frightened, at least as much as emotion as those soulless black marbles were capable of conveying. Its body was still quivering and its feet were still trying to run away from danger. Fido finished what was in his mouth and started to lose his appetite. Back in his youthful days, dripping blood from a new prey was nourishing, almost arousing. Now, in his final months, the bloodshed seemed only a reminder of the inevitable, and of the never-ending, insatiable quest for one species to dominate another through blood. This is what old age feels like, Fido concluded, the loss of spirit, the inability to be entertained by war.

He knew he wasn’t going to finish the rabbit’s carcass. He wasn’t sure that he would ever hunt another animal again, before his own demise. If old age didn’t kill him, maybe the scorching Texas sun would; if he weren’t run over by a falling rock on the freeway, then maybe a mountain lion would hunt and destroy him. Fido felt a slight sting of shame, as he dragged the rabbit carcass to the starving puffball.

As he walked towards the west, he thought back to his bastard pups and how he always made sure they were well fed—at least during the time he was there. Of course, he left. Fido never wanted to be a pappy dog as playing the role of alpha male always seemed to carry some great moral responsibility, of which this wild dog knew nothing. In Fido’s mind, he did raise those pups to a capable age.

Fido spit out the dead rabbit along with his rationalization onto the parched ground. Puffball did a double take on Fido and the rabbit carcass and took a cautious step back. “What is this?”

“It’s your dinner, fool.”

Puffball laughed so hard he rolled over on his back. “You? You a dog doing a good deed for me?”

“Don’t test me, youngling. I decided that I didn’t want it anymore. No sense in a good meal going to waste.”

The cat looked at the body in desperate hunger but peered back at Fido trying to gleam his motivation. “Are you going to poison me? Have you urinated on the body in some conspiratorial plot?”

“Maybe, maybe not. You’re going to die anyway, so you might as well enjoy a last meal.”

The kitten sniffed the carcass in suspicion as Fido lay down comfortable, wanting a rest from walking.

“It’s not poisoned. Just don’t think I owe you anything. I was heading this way anyway.”

“Well…” the kitten murmured while taking a few test licks, “I was just on my way to kill you. If you are telling the truth I might spare your life.”

Fido shook his head and denied him a response.

It was a marvelous site to behold, one figures, that of an old dog and a young cat coexisting in the wild kingdom. Though the two outcasts were never quite lovers or even friends, they did eventually attain a feeling of mutual respect, the sort of bodily agreement that subconsciously states “I will not kill you if you will not kill me.”

The kitten ate up the rabbit carcass until his growling belly was completely full. Afterward, he lay back a safe distance away from the lying dog, still towering over him, and eyed him in equanimity.

“What’s a runt like you doing out here anyway?” Fido asked. Mother eaten by wolves?”

“I’ll have you know that I am out here of my own initiative. I have no mother or father, and have no need of such rudimentary provisions. I chose self-exile, because I had political disagreements with the land from which I was born.”

“What land was that?”

“A land of which I prefer not to speak of. A land unnatural in its creation. A place where both dogs and cats are forced to live in tolerance of one another.”

Fido lifted his head in interest. “Dogs and cats living together?”

“Yes, a vulgar suggestion to say the least. It seems that whenever I question the judgment of this society’s elders I am deemed a dangerous mind. The council had met about me, each one pushing for my involuntary removal from the premises. I am not a weak cat, and I certainly do not have to bend my knee towards dogs like all of the other scaredy-cats of that land. Nor do I have to prostrate my prostate towards this society’s leader, a dog with an unusually elevated sense of self-esteem. No I am a warrior cat, and my relatives are the big cats of the mountains, the ones that grow as high as the hills they live in.”

“Is it better to die alone in the wilderness than to be surrounded by family?” Fido asked with a slight grin.

“We are all in the wilderness. Not everyone is capable of seeing that. And you speak of the so called family, the same human beings who saw fit to collar me, brainwash me to do ‘tricks’ and give me a name of senseless, condescending babble. I chose not to recognize their babbleonian names. I am not a ‘kee-kee’ or a ‘meow-meow’ nor am I a petty amusement for their suckling children. I am my own and nothing else.”

Fido turned back around and lay down a second time, letting images of the past peacefully be excused from his mind. “And so you die with no friends and a countless number of enemies.”

“So be it!”

“It is a worthwhile pursuit, youngling. At least until the bitter end.”

One cannot fathom how such a bizarre coupling took place. One cannot possibly absorb such a shocking turn of events without planning reprisal. One cannot forgive one’s self for failing to see this unpredictable outcome, or at least failing to predict the failure of one incompetent bastard. Now Fido, the most disloyal and vile of canine life abandons his murderous instincts and becomes the substitute parent of this rebellious cat? What kind of pal has Fido become to all gentle creatures, that he should stuff this genetically inferior cripple into his own pouch like a damned baby marsupial?

No, I had not predicted this at all, an unsettled Tashi thought to himself as he journeyed back from eastern borders into his own Caninae Familiare. It made perfect logical sense that Fido would tear this rebellious munchkin to shreds, after the cat was advised by a certain leader of the council to go westward into the wilderness where wild dogs wait. Yes, that damned cat—a cat that the council hated for his independent streak, not to mention his unnatural appearance, which provoked cat-ferret love accusations. Fido’s lack of unknowing cooperation only incensed him all the more so. There was only one thing Tashi couldn’t fathom in this cruel and unjust world that could otherwise be fixed with a little positive thinking—that was disobedience.

*

Tashi's Angry Face

Next week, the serialization of Raining Cats and Dogs will continue. Tashi represents Judas Iscariot. Did you get that? Raining Cats and Dogs is a registered copyright (R) 2011 of The Late Mitchell Warren. A downloadable eBook of this dog fiction will be available following the conclusion. Raining Cats and Dogs is a dog murder mystery very loosely based on The Brothers Karamazov and in the style of Animal Farm. But it’s done with an all dog-cast. No animals were harmed in the making of this dog soap opera. This story is not PETA-approved.

Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 1
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 2
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 3
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 4
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 5
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 6
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 7
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 8
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 9
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 10
Raining Cats & Dogs Episode 11