Styx and the Terrible Tail -

Part 1.
Styx was a pretty black kitten with a wonderful life. He had a comfortable house to live in and a bid puffy cushion of his very own to sleep on. He got three or four or five tasty meals every day. He played in a pleasant garden whenever he wanted to. He had a nice family of human who loved him.
Styx was a very happy kitten, right? Wrong! He was a very unhappy kitten.
Why? Because of his tail. It was black, like the rest of him, but, instead of being fluffy all over and rounded at the tip, it was thin and feathery and came to a point. Worst of all, it didn’t behave properly. When Styx was annoyed, the tail sat still and stiff, instead of flicking back and forth. When Styx felt confident, the tail curled over his back, instead of sticking straight up in the air. When Styx was afraid – which didn’t happen very often – the tail went down between his hind legs, instead of bristling out all over the way it should. And when Styx was happy – which happened less and less – the terrible tail, all by itself, would begin to… wag!
Styx tried to teach his tail some manners, he really did. Whenever the tail did the wrong thing, he would pounce on it. He would hold it down, or beat it with his paws. He would even bite it, which hurt him more than it hurt the tail. None of this did any good at all: the tail simply would not behave! And when they saw him fighting with it, Styx’s people would laugh.
Finally, Styx became so unhappy with his terrible tail that, very early one morning, he decided to go looking for a good one.
Across the garden, out through the back fence, and into the woods went Styx.

Part 2
There, sitting on a low branch, chewing on an acorn, sat a little red squirrel.
“Hello, squirrel,” said the kitten.
“Hello, kitten,” the little red squirrel answered.
“Nice tail you have there,“ said Styx. “It’s fluffy all over, with a wide brush at the tip, and very big for such a small animal. Maybe a tail like would suit me.”
“Yes,” said the squirrel, “it is a good tail. It helps me balance when I leap from branch to branch and tree to tree.”
“Mine does that too,” Styx admitted, “though I only ever leap from the sofa to the window-sill.”
“Also,” the squirrel added, tucking his hands in close to his body, “I can pull my tail right up over my head, like this.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“My tail protects me from the rain and cold wind.”
“Oh,” said Styx. “I don’t need a tail to protect me from the weather. When it’s rainy and cold, I go into my comfortable house and find a dry lap.”
“Lucky you!” said the squirrel.
“No, I’m not,“ answered Styx. “My people are always laughing at me.”
“Well,” said the squirrel, “you are kind of funny.”
Then the little red squirrel stopped talking, pulled his fluffy tail over his head and scrunched down in a tight bundle, as close to the branch and small as he could possibly get.
“It was only a bird,” Styx told him when the shadow of wings had passed by.
“Only a bird?” said the squirrel. “That was and owl. Owls hunt and eat small animals like me.”
“That’s terrible,” said Styx, “I don’t envy you.”
Then he continued his journey.

Styx the cat then said, “I am from Hades, the underworld!”
The Squirrel said, “I am a Skrull, beat that!”
The owl: “Aye, aye! I am Aule the father of the dwarves!”… :banana-dreads:

Part 3.
Soon, he came upon a green meadow and in it saw a black and white cow, grazing.
“Hello, cow,” said Styx.
“Hello, small black cat,” answered the cow.
"That’s a nice tail you have, " said the kitten, “I especially like the tassel at the end. Maybe I should have a tail like that.”
“Everybody should have a tail like this,” said the cow. She flicked the tassel across her face. “It’s the best thing for brushing away flies.”
“Flies don’t bother me much,” Styx admitted. “I do get fleas sometimes, but I don’t think any tail would be much use against fleas.”
“I don’t suppose it would,” the cow agreed.
"Anyway, "Styx continued, “I don’t live in a meadow. I have a big cushion to sleep on.”
“I sleep in a barn,” said the cow. And then she stopped talking and looked with alarm across the meadow.
“It’s only a farmer coming,” said Styx.
“Only!” the cow replied with scorn. “Farmers are the most dangerous animals in the world. They can be nice and kind, then suddenly turn vicious. You never know whether they’re coming to feed you7 or milk you or kill you.”
"But that’s terrible! " said Styx. “My people laugh at me, but they would never hurt me.”
“Then you are very lucky,” the cow told him.
Styx didn’t want to meet a farmer, so he continued on his journey.

Part 4.
After a while, he came to the edge of a stream. In the middle of the stream, on top of a dam of branches and mud, there was a beaver working.
“Hello, beaver,” said Styx.
“Hello, kitten,” the beaver responded.
“You seem very busy. Do you have time to talk?”
“I am busy,” the beaver said, “but I guess I could take a short break.”
“Nice tail you have,” said Styx, “It’s so wide and flat and not at all pointed at the end. I might enjoy having a tail like that.”
“Yes,” the beaver agreed, “it is a good tail. It helps me balance when I climb over logs.”
“Mine does that, too,” said Styx. “I like to climb over things for fun.”
The beaver frowned. “This isn’t fun! This is serious work. My tail is not a toy; it is a tool for slapping mud in the chinks and fixing branches in place.”
“I never do serious work,” said Styx.
“Well then, you’re lucky,” said the beaver.
“Not really. My people always laugh at me.”
“I wish that’s all people did to me!” said the beaver. “They wreck my dams and trap my relatives.”
“That’s terrible!” said Styx.
“Maybe so,” the beaver replied, “Still, the work must go on.” He turned, dove and swam away to fetch another log.

Part 5.
So the kitten went on his way. As he walked alongside the stream, wondering how to get across, he saw a trout lazing in the shadow of a rock.
“Hello, fish,” said the kitten.
“Hello, cat,” said the fish. “If you’re thinking of catching me, don’t bother. You’re much too small.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” said Styx, “I was l admiring your tail. I’ve never seen one like it.”
“Nothing special about it,” said the trout. “It’s just a useful tail. Helps me stay upright when I’m swimming.”
“I never swim,” said Styx. “I don’t like water.”
“Just as well,” the fish replied," That skimpy tail of yours wouldn’t be much good in water."
“It’s not much good on land, either,” Styx admitted. “It does all the wrong things, and people laugh at me.”
“Is that all?” said the trout scornfully." People drop hooks into the stream and try to catch me."
“Why do they do that?”
“They want to eat me,” the trout explained. “The worst thing is, they put worms or minnows on the hooks. Every time I see a tempting meal, I’m afraid there might be a hook in it.”
“That’s terrible!” Styx exclaimed. “When my people offer me food, I always know it’s safe.”
“I hope you know how lucky are.” said the fish.
Styx was so tired of hearing this, he didn’t even answer, but went on his way.

Part 6
After a while, he came upon a field which was all fenced around. Sitting on one of the fence-posts, preening his feathers, was a hawk.
“Hello, hawk,” said the Styx.
“Hello, kitten,” replied the hawk, “you look tasty.”
"I’m not! " Styx protested.
“It doesn’t matter,” said the hawk, “I’ve just eaten a groundhog and I’m not interested. Come back tomorrow.”
“I don’t think so,” the kitten said, and changed the subject. “That’s a beautiful tail you have.”
“Of course,” the hawk agreed. “Everything about me is beautiful. And it’s a good tail, too. It helps me steer when I’m flying and to brake when I’m landing.”
“Cats can’t fly,” Styx said, “It must be nice.”
The hawk shrugged his breast-feathers back into place. “It’s a living. Well,” he added after a moment’s thought, “it’s also fun. In fact, I guess flying is about the best thing in the world and I’m about the best flyer in the world.”
“Lucky you,” said Styx.
“Oh, yes.” the hawk assented.
“Thank you for talking to me,” Styx said, and scuttled away before the hawk decided to have dessert.
‘Now there,’ thought the kitten as he continued his journey, ‘is a creature totally satisfied his lot. And why not? He does have a perfect tail, and nobody ever laughs at him.’

Part 7
Across the field went Styx, keeping low in the grass, when he spotted a grey mouse, crouching down next to a little pile of seeds and looking very frightened.
“Hello, field mouse,” said the kitten. “Don’t be afraid, the hawk has just eaten and isn’t interested.”
“It’s not the hawk I’m worried about,” said the mouse, “it’s you.”
“Me? I don’t eat mice; my food comes in cans and boxes. I get three or four or five tasty meals every day in a dish with my name on it.”
The little mouse opened her eyes wide in amazement. “You do??”
"Oh yes, "said Styx, “my people love me.”
“That must be nice,” sighed the mouse. “People don’t like me at all. They set traps to catch me and poison my food. I was just wondering whether this grain is safe to take home.”
“That’s terrible,” said Styx. “My food is always safe. And do they laugh at you?”
“No, but they sometimes scream.”
“They laugh at me,” said Styx.
“Well,” the mouse said, “youare kind of funny. I wish I were funny. Then maybe people wouldn’t hate me.”
“But you are,” Styx told her. “I mean, just look at that tail!”
The mouse looked at her tail. It was long and very thin, pointed at the end and not the least bit bushy - in fact, it had hardly any hairs on it. “What’s wrong with this tail? It helps me balance when I run across high narrow ledges and prickles when some large animal is coming up behind me. What else should a tail do?”
“It should,” Styx explained, “be furry all over and rounded at the tip. It should wag when you’re angry, stick straight up in the air when you feel confident, bristle out when you’re scared and curl softly around your paws when you’re sitting at ease.”
“Really? Why?”
Styx had to admit that he didn’t know why. They pondered that for a while.
Finally, the field mouse asked, “So, are you going to chase me or not?”
“Not,” the kitten decided. “It’s time I was heading home for my proper breakfast. And don’t tell me I’m lucky.”
“Okay,” said the mouse, though she thought he was.

Part 8
Over the fields and under the fences went Styx; along the stream, across the meadow and through the woods. At last he came to a line of houses, and to the back fence of a yard like his own, but not his own. In the garden was a small black puppy, chasing her tail.
“Hello, puppy,” said Styx.
The puppy looked around, startled, and forgot about her tail. “Hello, kitten.” She came trotting up to the back fence and sniffed the kitten’s nose. "My name is Sticks. "
“Are you sure? My name is Styx.”
“That’s funny,” said the puppy. She had wavy hair, long floppy ears and big paws. But her tail didn’t match. It was fluffy all over, rounded at the tip and it stood straight up in the air.
“That’s a nice tail you have,” said Styx. “In fact, I think it’s perfect!”
“This thing?” said Sticks. “This is the worst tail in the world. It wags when I’m angry. When I’m afraid, it fluffs up into a bush, instead of hiding between my legs. When I’m happy and confident, it just stands there. It never, ever feathers out or waves like a flag or curls up over my back. And the worst thing of all is, when I try to punish it, my people laugh at me!”
Styx said, “Well, you are kind of funny.”
“Thanks a lot!” said the puppy. “Next I suppose you’ll tell me how lucky I am.”
Styx thought about that for a moment. “Do your people ever milk you?”
“Of course not.”
“Do they ever put hooks or poison in your food?”
“No, I get two tasty meals every day and kibble in a bowl with my name on it.”
“Does anybody hunt you and try to eat you?”
“I don’t think so,” said Sticks.
“Do you have to sleep in a barn or in a burrow, or up in a tree, or “Styx shuddered even to think of it, “under water?”
“Certainly not,” said Sticks indignantly. “I have a basket near the fireplace, with a blue blanket in it.”
“Lucky you!” said the kitten.
The puppy wrinkled up her funny face in thought “I guess. Everything about my life is good - except for this terrible tail.”
“I know just how you feel,” said Styx. “Look at this one.”
“What’s wrong with?” asked the puppy, “Nothing! It’s perfect.”
“But your is so much better!”
They each looked at their own tails and then at each other’s and then their own again.
“Hmm,” Styx finally said, “Do you think there might have been a mistake?”
“You think we got each other’s tails?” Sticks rucked her face up again, trying to remember.” I was in Heaven, waiting to be born…”
“Yes…I remember. Waiting, waiting for the tails to be handed out, and I got so bored! I was watching a butterfly…”
“There was a rabbit… I chased it.”
“I guess I wasn’t paying attention when our names were called.”
“Me neither.”
They looked at each other some more.
Finally, Styx suggested, “Think we could back and ask…”
“To have them switched?
“We could try…”
“Except,” said Sticks, “What if we get different lives next time? I wouldn’t like to give up my basket and my sunny garden.”
Styx agreed, “I wouldn’t like to do without three or four or five tasty meals every day.”
“I’d hate to leave my ball and squeaky toy.”
“I’d hate to leave my favourite window-sill.”
“And what if we got different families? The children would miss me.”
“My mistress would probably cry.”
“I’m not sure I could love any other people so much…”
“I’m not sure any other people could love me so much…”
“… even if they laugh at me,” said Sticks.
“…even if the laugh at me,” said Styx.
“Well, youare kind of funny,” they both said at the same time, and started to laugh. They laughed so hard, they fell over rolled on the ground and then they laughed even more, just for the joy of rolling around in the grass, kicking their feet in the air, and forgetting all about what their tails were doing.
When they finally stopped laughing and rolling, Styx said, “I guess I’m pretty lucky.”
“Me too.” said Sticks.
“Well, I’d better go home,” said the kitten.
“See you around, Styx,” said the puppy.
“See you, Sticks.”
This was very likely, since they lived only five houses apart.
Styx climbed over and crawled under the fences until he was in his own pleasant garden. When he scratched at the back door, there was someone to let him in. There was a tasty meal in his bowl. There was a loving hand to stroke him when he curled up, purring, on his own big puffy cushion. As Styx batted and patted his terrible tail into position for a nap, somebody laughed.
“That’s all right,” Styx thought to himself, " You’re lucky to have a funny kitten like me.”

Fin

humunculus,

Oh, how sweet it is! So cute and such a beautiful fable. I loved it. I was smiling throughout the reading of it, humunculus. I plan to print it out and keep it - that’s how much I liked it.

That little guy, Styx, had a kind of vision quest, wouldn’t you say - and he came home having found his “holy” grail or having discovered that it was always a part of him.

You’re a great storyteller. You could probably publish it!

It’s a great lesson to learn I think about how hard we can be on ourselves by judging and comparing ourselves to others. Fortunately, we can, through others, listening to others, come to see ourselves as they see us, in a far more positive light. We learn to also see that the “grass” is not always greener on the other side - that others too have their own unacceptable “tails” in a manner of speaking.

Gradually, we can learn to embrace/accept ourselves, especially those things which we view in a less-than perfect light. We can come to love ourselves then for the things about us which are different and unique than those of others - not in spite of them, but because of them.

I think that, also, in learning this, we can help others along the way who we recognize or intuit cannot accept or affirm their selves much. Or, we can certainly be reminded of this and more mindful of it.

I’m going to re-read it when I have a little more time.
You have a way with words and with animals. :mrgreen:
There’s more to the story, of course, than meets the eye at first glance.
Hope people get that.

All kittens and puppies are at war with their tails - and funny!