Adam once had a peaceful house, and the cat and dog nearly ruined it.
Landa's 1919 Jewish folktale begins in the childhood of the world, when Adam had named the animals and still ruled over them. Cat and dog were partners then. They shared food, shelter, secrets, and winter hunger. Then scarcity came, and the cat proposed a formal separation.
The serpent, called wise by the animals, supplies the legal idea. Cat and dog swear never to cross one another's path. The cat runs to Adam's house to catch mice. The dog wanders into hunger, wolves, wounds, and humiliation until he too reaches Adam's door without knowing the cat is inside.
Adam is grateful to both. The cat protects the house from mice. The dog guards it from danger. But the old oath poisons the peace. The cat insists the dog has violated the agreement. The dog says he came only because hunger drove him there.
Adam tries to reconcile them, then loses patience and says they look ready to quarrel forever. The tale treats that sentence like a decree. From then on, cat and dog carry the first broken partnership of Eden into every human house.
The Quarrel of the Cat and Dog
In the childhood of the world, when Adam named all the animals and
ruled over them, the dog and the cat were the greatest good friends.
They were inseparable chums in their recreations, faithful partners in
their transactions, and devoted comrades in all their adventures,
their pleasures and their sorrows. They lived together, shared each
other's food and confided their secrets to none but themselves. It
seemed that no possible difference would ever arise to cause trouble
between them.
Then winter came. It was a new experience to them to feel the cold
wind cutting through their skins and making them shiver. The dismal
prospect of the leafless trees and the hard cold ground weighed
heavily upon their hearts, and, worse still, there was less food. The
scarcity grew serious, and hunger plunged them into unhappiness and
despair. Doggie became melancholy, while Pussie grew peevish, then
petulant, and finally developed a horrid temper.
"We can't go on like this," moaned the cat. "I think we had better
dissolve partnership. We can't find enough to share when we are
together, but separately we ought each to discover sufficient forage
in our hunting."
"I think I can help you, because I am the stronger," said the dog.
Pussie did not contradict, but she thought the dog a bit of a fool and
too good-natured. She knew herself to be sly and intended to rely on
that quality for her future sustenance. Doggie was deeply hurt at
Pussie's desire to end their happy compact, but he said quietly, "Of
course, if you insist on parting, I will agree."
"It is agreed then," purred Pussie.
"Where will you go?" asked Doggie.
"To the house of Adam," promptly replied the cat, who had evidently
made up her mind. "There are mice there. Adam will be grateful if I
clear them away. I shall have food to eat."
"Very well," assented the dog. "I will wander further afield."
Then the cat said solemnly: "We must each take an oath never to cross
the other's path. That is the proper way to terminate a business
agreement. The serpent says so, and he is the wisest of all animals."
They put their right fore-paws together and gravely repeated an oath
never to interfere with each other by going to the same place. Then
they parted. Doggie trotted off sorrowfully with his head hanging
down. Once he looked back, but Puss did not do so. She scampered off
as fast as she could to the house of Adam.
"Father Adam," she cried, "I have come to be your slave. You are
troubled with mice in the house. I can rid you of them, and I want
nothing else for my services."
"Thou art welcome," said Father Adam, stroking Pussie's warm fur.
Puss rubbed her head against his feet, purred contentedly, and ran off
to look for mice. She found plenty and soon grew fat and comfortable.
Adam treated her kindly, and she soon forgot all about her former
comrade.
Poor Doggie did not fare so well. Indeed, he had a rough time. He
wandered aimlessly about over the frozen ground and could not find the
slightest scrap of food. After three days, weary, paw-sore and
dispirited, he came to a wolf's lair and begged for shelter. The wolf
took pity on him, gave him some scraps of food, and permitted him to
sleep in the lair. Doggie was most thankful, and sleeping with his
ears on the alert, he heard stealthy footsteps in the night. He told
the wolf.
"Drive the intruders away," said his host in a surly tone.
Doggie went out obediently to do so. But the marauders were wild
animals and they nearly killed him. He was lucky to escape with his
life. After bathing his wounds at a pool in the early morning he
wandered all day long, but again could find nothing. Toward night,
when he could scarcely drag his famished and wounded body along, he
saw a monkey in a tree.
"Kind monkey," he pleaded, "give me shelter for the night. I am
exhausted and starving."
"Go away, go away, go away," chattered the monkey, jumping and
swinging swiftly from branch to branch, moving his lips quickly and
opening and shutting his eyes comically. Doggie hesitated, and, to
frighten him away, the monkey pulled cocoanuts from the tree and
pelted him.
Poor Doggie crawled miserably away.
"What shall I do?" he moaned.
Hearing the bleating of some sheep, he made his way to them and asked
them to take compassion on him.
"We will," they replied, "if you will keep watch over us and tell us
when the wolf comes."
Doggie agreed willingly, and, after he had devoured some food, he
stretched himself to sleep like a faithful watch-dog, with one eye
open.
In the middle of the night he heard the wolves approaching, and,
anxious to serve the sheep who had treated him kindly, he sprang to
his feet and began to bark loudly. This aroused the sheep, who awoke
and started to run in all directions. Some of them ran right into the
pack of wolves and were killed and eaten. Poor Doggie was nearly
heart-broken.
"It is my fault, my fault," he wailed. "I barked too soon. Oh, what an
unhappy creature I am. I shall keep away from all animals now."
Once again he set off on his travels. Whenever he met an animal he ran
off in the opposite direction. He had to make his journey by the
loneliest paths and the most unfrequented routes, and the difficulty
of finding food grew steadily greater. At last he grew so weak and
thin that he hardly had strength to crawl and he had several narrow
escapes from falling a prey to ferocious beasts.
One night he came to a house and begged a morsel of food. It was
given, and during the night he woke the man and warned him that wild
animals were making a raid. The man jumped up, seized his bow and
arrow and drove the thieves away. Then he patted Doggie.
"Good dog," he said. "You are a wise animal. Stay with me always. You
will find Father Adam kind."
"Father Adam!" cried Doggie, in alarm. "I must not stay here."
"Nonsense. I say you must," answered Adam, and Doggie was compelled to
obey.
In the morning, Pussie learned that the dog had joined the household
and she complained to Adam.
"The dog has violated the oath he swore not to come to the place where
I am," she said.
"He did not know you were here," said Adam, desirous of maintaining
peace. "He is very useful. I want him to remain. He won't hurt you.
There is ample room for both."
"No, there isn't," said Puss spitefully, arching up her back and
getting cross. "He broke his oath. He is a wicked creature. You dare
not overlook his offense."
Poor Doggie stood dejectedly apart, with his tail between his legs.
"I didn't know it was Adam's house, and I was so hungry and miserable
and tired," he said.
But Pussie would not be pacified. She thrust out her ugly claws and
tried to scratch her former partner. The dog kept out of her way as
much as possible, but she quarrelled with him at every opportunity,
and at last he determined to tolerate her conduct no longer.
"I must leave you, Father Adam," he said. "Pussie is making my life
unbearable."
"But I want you," said Adam.
"I'm sorry," said Doggie, firmly, "but it is really impossible for me
to continue in your service. I've got another situation at the house
of Seth. He wants me, too."
"Won't you make friends with Pussie?" asked Adam.
"With pleasure, if she will let me, but she won't."
"You blame each other," said Adam, losing patience. "I can't make you
out. You look like quarrelling for ever."
Adam's words have proved true. Ever since that time the cat and dog
have failed to agree, and Pussie will never consent to be friendly
again with Doggie.
[Illustration: With a cry, he put his fingers in his mouth to
ease the pain and burned his tongue. (_Page 131_).]
