Cow And The Arrogant Cat

Once upon a time, there was a cat named Sir Reginald Fluffington III, but everyone just called him Reggie. Reggie was the worst. He wasn't just a little bit proud; he was so arrogant he thought his tail was a fancy, self-propelled feather duster. He strutted around acting like every dust bunny, squirrel, and dog in the neighborhood was just there to admire his magnificent whiskers. "Bow down, peasants!" he'd silently think, which usually looked like him yawning super dramatically.

One chilly winter morning, Reggie had found the perfect sunbeam—it was toasty, warm, and smelled faintly of old leaves and victory. He was deep in a dream about chasing a giant tuna fish sandwich when ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZAP! The light vanished!

Reggie shot bolt upright, his fur standing on end like a fuzzy, angry bottle brush. Right in front of him, blocking his precious sun puddle, stood a GIANT COW. Not just any cow, but Bessie, who was so big she made Reggie look like a fluffy slipper.

"HEY! You big, spotty refrigerator!" Reggie yowled, puffing out his chest until he looked like a furry basketball. "How DARE you move in and block the most important thing in the universe—MY SUNBEAM?!"

Bessie blinked her huge, slow eyes. "Moo-ve over? Oh, dearie me, no. I'm actually playing shadow tag with that scary dog, Spike the Bulldog, who is right behind me," she said, her voice sounding like a slow, deep rumble. "If he sees you, Sir Reggie, you're going to be fewer than no more! You'll be history!"

Before Reggie could even blink his arrogant eyes again, a snarling, drooling, low-to-the-ground engine of wrinkles—Spike the Bulldog—peered around Bessie’s gigantic flank. Spike looked like a grumpy, angry throw pillow with teeth.

Reggie didn't just freeze; he turned into a statue made of pure, chilled terror. His loud meow got stuck in his throat, coming out as a tiny, embarrassing "m-m-m-eep!"

Bessie, the gentle giant, just turned her massive head toward the growling dog. "Excuse me, Mr. Spike," she said, not even raising her voice. "But I need you to scram. I need my personal space for important cow business."

Spike, who normally barked at shadows, suddenly looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. He whined, tucked his tail so hard it nearly disappeared, and backed away, muttering, "Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am, that milk was delicious ma'am," until he was gone.

Reggie slowly defrosted. He looked at the spot where the scary dog had been, then up at the enormous, kind cow. He felt smaller than a cheerio.

"Oh," Reggie squeaked, his voice suddenly very small. "Dear. Uh... Ms. Bessie. I am so, so sorry. I thought you were just a big, rude moving mountain. I was... uh... mistaken."

Bessie gently nudged him with her nose, which felt like being bumped by a warm, hairy sofa. "It's okay, Reggie-cat. Next time you see something big and different, maybe don't immediately yell about your sunbeam, okay? Stop, look, and listen before you leap!"

Reggie nodded so hard his tiny cat-hat (which he didn't actually have, but pretended to wear) nearly fell off. "I promise! I'll think twice! Maybe even thrice!"

From that day on, Reggie was still a little proud, but whenever he saw Bessie, he'd give her a very respectful, very small nod and make sure to always, always leave her plenty of room in the sun.

What do you think Reggie should have dreamt about after that scare? A giant saucer of milk or a huge, safe box?

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