The Little Swan And The Logical Cat
"Don't you see my condition? There is nobody to look after me. I was to die, if not tomorrow, the day after. Is an immediate death not preferable to a slow death by starvation?" "I understand," said the cat with a special nod. He had learned that from his master. "My only regret is, I won't taste like a swan to you." "That is nonsense. There is no reason why a swan should not taste like a swan." The cat dismissed the little bird's misgiving nodding sideways this time. "I'm sure, you are the most logical of all the cats. But, you see, no swan tastes better than a clod of wet earth when very young. But as one keeps eating the tender stems of the lotus, one grows sweeter like a butter cake." "I know," said the cat whose master used the phrase quite often. "A day does not pass without our servants securing lotuses from the lake for our shrine. They throw away the stems. I can bring some for you!" "It is for you to decide whether you should like to eat a clod of wet earth or a butter cake," said the little swan in a detached tone. "I don't mind waiting for a week for you to enjoy my flesh better." "You are reasonable," said the cat. He went away raising a triumphant tail and returned with some stems in an hour. And this he did for a week. "Frankly, Mr. Tom, by now I should taste like a butter cake, at least like one made by an apprentice. But if you want me to taste like one made by a professional..." "Of course I will like you to taste like one made by a professional!" cut in the cat. "Then I should be fed with a little milk a day for a week!" "I know," said the cat. He had no difficulty in fetching milk, for that was plentily available in his master's kitchen.
And this he did for another week. The little swan kept assuring him that it was growing sweeter by the day. At the end of the period, the cat climbed the tree carrying neither lotus stems nor milk, for he intended to eat the swan that should taste like a butter cake baked by a professional. In fact, he had fasted the previous night to enjoy his food better. But the nest was empty. "Hello, Tom, rather Mr. Tom, look here!" The cat looked up. The little swan sat on the top branch of the tree, basking in the soft sunlight, looking like a milk-white lotus! "As I grew sweeter something more also happened to me. I grew stronger in my sides. My tiny wings began flapping. And suddenly I found myself here!" said the little swan. "I know. That should be natural, though..." The cat stopped. He did not want to confess that it had not occurred to him beforehand. "But will you please come down for my sake?" "That won't be natural. Now that I can fly, I am in no mood to die. You should appreciate this, as the most logical cat you are!" The swan soared high and descended on the lake in style.
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