Scarborough Fair and Other Stories by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

Author:Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-04-16T23:07:25+00:00

Mu Mao And The Court Oracle

by

Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

Mu Mao became Aware as he was reborn yet again. That is to say, once more he became embodied, for his rebirth occurred not at the body’s physical emergence from the mother’s womb, but from the time Mu Mao realized, “Here I am again. Here I go again. What now?” The current body gained Awareness as it was dumped unceremoniously into a cage with three siblings, all as hungry as Mu Mao, reincarnate, suddenly was.

Just once it would be nice if rebirth took place in a lovely home, somewhere warm, with soft blankets laid down for the arrival of the sweet little much-adored and wanted kittens. Instead, Mu Mao the Magnificent found himself in an animal shelter, among many other cats and kittens.

He knew it at once by the smell—it was clean, which was a blessing. And at least there would be some food. Often he was born into the wild, or into some great colony of wild cats. Being a Bodhisattva and helping others work out their destiny and achieve Enlightenment was no easy task when one had to skitter up trees to avoid being eaten by larger predators. Worse was having to avoid being eaten by other larger and more feral cats. Mu Mao was now born into perhaps his thousandth lifetime, the first several hundred of which had been devoted to evolving into the wise person, shaman, healer, priest, lama, hermit, monk, and counselor he had ultimately become, the latter thirty devoted to his reward—being born into the highest possible lifeform, that of a cat. He found it particularly upsetting when others of his exalted species aimed their teeth at his own helpless little kitten tail. True, even some cats had to evolve, but he found their process unnerving.

Did no one in charge of fate think it necessary for Mu Mao to help his fellow lifeforms from the standpoint of being a companion animal to some doting two legged being with opposable thumbs?

When he had slaked his hunger and thirst, he researched his current situation by examining closely the papers covering the floor of his erstwhile home. They looked fresh and current and he could still smell the ink so he knew they must be no more than a day old at the most. It was the year of the Cat, according to Asian astrologers, and from the date, within the sign called Leo in Western astrology. The sign of the cat. Very catty. Reeking with cattiness. Very clearly, Mu Mao’s current mission would be concerned with events unfolding in the realm of his fellow felines.

“Ahem,” his Mother of the Moment said. “What do you think you are doing? Tear up that paper at once! Cats can’t read!”

“I beg your pardon, gentle mother,” he said politely, “But I can. In several languages actually. Which I also speak, though only after judicious consideration for the sensibilities and circumstances surrounding me. However, other than the information I have already gleaned, the reading matter lining our cage tells me nothing of value concerning our current situation.

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