"Strange Tongues" by Katherine J. Grantham

Long and ago in that first and greatest Garden, all creatures dwelled in harmony in those days of delight after the first Sevenday and before The Folly of Man. Catnip grew in abundance, and the grass was of such surpassing sweetness that naught else was required to satisfy the appetite. Alas, such is not to be found in these darker days, though can any cat resist trying to find that lost succulence that once we feasted upon?

In those days final embellishments were given to the Animal Kingdoms by the Creator. It was at this time that the already-lovely tail of the Peacock received its vigilance of eyes, flowers received their perfume, and the Horse was gifted with full and flowing mane and tail to differentiate it from the Zebra (though the latter was granted stripes of marvelous showiness in a move to avert jealousy). It was at this time the Creator gifted the Folk of the Kingdoms with their voices.

Before Man there had been no need for voices, since there was but One Voice and all who heard understood it, and the Creator knows the thoughts of all beings. And all the Folk thought as one, even Cats and Mice. But then came Man (but not yet Woman) and the Naming, and the Folk perceived they were not one and the same and their thoughts became muddied and confused with “I, Elephant,” and “I, Gecko,” and “I, Mayfly,” and a-sky-full-of-star’s-worth more. It was then the Creator decided to give each of the Folk their own thoughts and voice.

The rulers of each Family brought their children to receive this new gift from the hand of the Creator. The stately Elk received their bugle call, the Whales their deep and mysterious songs, and the family of Nightingale, in recompense for the drabness of their garb, received voices of surpassing sweetness. It was at this point that Man interrupted, for upon hearing the new voice of the Nightingale he greatly desired that his tongue should be as sweet. The Creator explained to him gently that Man already had the voice that was perfect for him. But since there was little the Creator would deny this Best-Loved, Man was granted the ability to make inanimate creations that could sing for him. And Man was satisfied.

While the Creator dealt with Man, the next of the Folk in line to receive their tongues became impatient. They were the Wolfkin, the Family of Dog, and it was in their makeup to be over-eager creatures without the caution and patience of their older cousins. One of the young pups, when all attention was riveted upon the Creator and Man, decided to help himself to a tongue. He crept to the place where the tongues for all the Folk lay glittering like licks of fire on the grass, snatched one and swallowed it. The pup then crept back to his Family, wriggling inside with joy at his aquisition.

Having finished with Man, the Creator returned to the task at hand. The Family of Dog bounded up one by one to receive their voices, wriggling in ostentatious body-wagging joy at the gift. Yet after no more of that Family came forward the Creator still held forth a tongue.

"Who among the Family of Dog has not claimed a tongue?,” called the Creator. The pup who had been impatient sank upon his belly, wishing to sink into the ground and not be seen. “Come forth, Basenji,” said the Creator, calling the pup by name. “Come forward and receive your gift.” That command Basenji could not refuse.

Reluctantly the pup crept forward and grovelled at the Creator’s feet. A lovely, flickering flame was held forth in the Creator’s hand.

“This is your tongue, the tongue I created especially for you. Do you not wish it, so you may converse with the other Folk?”

Basenji was aghast. He had swallowed the wrong tongue! Who knew what incongruous voice would be heard were he to speak! The croak of a frog? The rasp of a cricket? The silly squeakings of a bat? If he spoke with the wrong voice all the other Folk would laugh at him, whether they had tongues or not! So he grovelled still more deeply and remained silent.

"Very well,” said the Creator. “From this day forth your descendants shall have no voice to speak as other dogs, and from this day forth the tongues of all dogs shall salivate excessively as a reminder of your greed and haste.” And so it is to this day. The Basenji is the Dog Who Does Not Bark, and all dogs are denied full dignity by their lolling, dripping tongues.

The rest of the Folk came forward solemnly when called to receive their voices, until only one Family remained. The Creator called forward the Queen of the Cats, Queen Firefur, She Whose Whiskers Span the Sky.

She approached the Creator, her long golden fur and shining aureate eyes gleaming like a second sun, and the Creator smiled. Other than the Gift of the Tongue, the Cat was created in perfection from the Beginning and required no further embellishment.

“Queen Firefur, yours are the last of the Folk to receive their tongues. You have witnessed what has passed before. Basenji took a tongue that by right belonged to a Cat. That leaves his tongue for one of your Folk. What I say must be so, and so this tongue of a Dog bears the affliction you have heard me speak of. Is there a member of your Family willing to take on this burden? You may discuss this with them, if you wish.” The Creator awaited the decision of the Cats, curious to see if the pride and dignity instilled in abundance in their spirits would outweigh their gentler natures.

The Cats were in a quandry as they spoke together in WhiskerTouch. They wished their tongues; there was no doubt of that--they would not dream of not having voices to raise in praise of the Creator. (Already that First and Best Garden rang with songs of thanksgiving.) But to have the tongue of a Dog! A tongue that would betray the dignity of the Cat that carried it! That could not be borne! Who would make such a sacrifice?

Unnoticed by the silently debating Cats, the Queen’s Consort, Lord MoonShadow, approached the Creator. Lord MoonShadow, dark as a starless night, was the wisest of his people, and knew the Creator had a purpose for every action, no matter how odd it may seem to those of the Folk. He bowed low before the Creator and indicted that he was willing to take the Dog’s tongue for his own.

The Creator smiled again, and rainbows filled the sky. “This tongue will speak the same language as all other Cats, though from henceforth Cats of your color shall be called upon to sacrifice their dignity for the sake of their Kindred. In recognition of your willingness to offer yourself as this sacrifice, I further grant all Cats a special song of joy and thanksgiving.” With these words the Creator reached down and gave the tongue to Lord MoonShadow and stroked his head.

The glittering flame of a tongue felt warm-cold as the great black Cat swallowed it. As the Creator caressed his head, Lord MoonShadow felt a strange fluttering in his throat, that grew into the earthshaking rumbling of the First Purr.

The rest of the Cats then came forward to receive their tongues, while Queen Firefur sat proudly at the feet of the Creator, and the noble Lord MoonShadow sat throned in glory, purring hosannas from the Creator’s lap.

---

After the Folly of Man, the Dogs, in an effort to drive a wedge between Man and Cat, told a different version of the story. Man had been so busy teaching a nocked reed sing to for him that he missed what had happened, and no one had bothered to tell him the tale until the Dogs told their crooked version around the first campfire in the Empty Lands. In the Dogs’ tale it was a Black Cat who stole the Basenji’s voice, and since then many Men have looked upon Cats, especially black ones, as creatures of deceit and untrustworthiness. And hence came the wicked phrase “Cat got your tongue?”

Woman heard the Cats’ tale first, and Cats have in general ever since found more friendship from her than her mate.

With this recitation I now hope to put to rest that ancient lie of the Dogs, and humbly submit this tale for your approval.

-- Sam Hain, BardiCat, D.D.