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Punter's Lament



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... and so it is written ...




The jungle is exotic and exciting, full of contradictions and intrigue. It is populated by many beautiful creatures, colourful, attractive and often times venomous and deadly. One must tread with care as dangers abound. The most insidious dangers come from within.


There are all manner of personalities but in general, a level of intra- and inter-species camaraderie is necessary for harmonious coexistence. At one end of the spectrum, there exists the most powerful and revered hunters who require little more than successful hunt and a piss on the nearest tree to satisfy their solitary needs. At the other end are the members of the heard whose requirement for creativity and exploration outside the bounds of their preordained existence is minimal. Among these blissfully happy creatures there is no hunting. Others again lead treacherous existences that bring about the disdain of their species because they can not, or will not, conform to the acceptable norms as assigned to that species by the Great Mother.


Occasionally, some of the creatures from the jungle form strange alliances. There are many such cases but this particular case is the case of the lioness and the cheetah.


The lioness was still young, she was strong and proud with good markings. She was renowned for causing much posturing among the cubs and older lions alike. The young lioness liked to purr but she jealously guarded her independence. She liked to have her meat and eat it too.






The cheetah on the other hand had seen a good few winters. Generally quite content living with his clan, he has seen his litters come and go. The cheetah has too, often been reminded he likes to have his meat and eat it too.






One fateful day the cheetah was wandering around looking for some trouble, when he saw the lioness lapping water from a small tributary. He stopped in his stride yet he felt movement in his loins. He was frightened but couldn't look away. Tentatively, nervously, he eased ever closer to the young lioness. Soon he was close enough to smell her scent, it was different but the same. Her lioness' mane was light in colour and ruffled. He was close enough to see into her eyes, he saw danger but was unable to retreat. He mustered all his courage and pulled along side the young cat expecting at any moment to feel the wrath that the Great Mother had programmed. Instead the young lioness whipped her silky tail, nuzzled the cheetah and ran off to her own kind.


The next time the cheetah came to the tributary, he brought the lioness some scraps of fresh, tender meat. She was pleased and gently chewed his ear. Her scent stirred the cheetah, his heart pounded and his member throbbed. The cheetah became bolder in his endeavours. Sometimes their paws would touch and they would lick each other's muzzles and nethers. The cheetah would breathe deeply the scent of the lioness, and hold it in his lungs, fulfilled. The lioness was a prime example of her species.


Over time the lioness and the cheetah met on the bank of the tributary on many, many occasions. The cheetah would always bring some scraps and in return she would lick him and allow him to lick her. The cheetah developed a fondness for the young lioness and sometimes, forgetting his position became too demonstrative. Even though the young feline remained unruffled, the cheetah would hang his head in shame and wait for the passing of his regret.


Not often, but it did happen, that the lioness would be compelled to snap at the cheetah's flanks. Sometimes it was because he had pushed her too far and sometimes because he had behaved inappropriately. Her snap could be brutal. But for the most time when he annoyed her, she just ignored him.


Frustratingly, the cheetah would spend many hours trying to understand the young lioness but it was only when he accepted he could never understand the behaviour and thought processes of another species, that he simply accepted what is, is. The cheetah was then happy again and just pleased to know the feisty young lioness with the warm heart.


Each time they met, they would give each give something of value. The cheetah would give his scraps, his humility and his best efforts in making their time together as pleasant as possible. In return, she would give the kindness, her patience, her warmth and her body for the precious seconds they spent together on the grassy bank.


One day, completely expectedly, the young lioness and the cheetah had a disagreement over the smallest of matters. It started gently with a little snarling and hissing but rapidly escalated into a sad tragedy of the jungle. They snapped at each other's flanks. Their roars were frightening. There were bound be battle scars. After the shortest time the cheetah realised he was heading down the path to oblivion. With his short-lived bravado in check and despite advice to the contrary from the most powerful and revered hunters of the jungle, the cheetah was contrite and determined to resolve the situation. But, it was too late. The young lioness with the good marking had already run deep into the jungle. She would not respond to the tentative calls from the old cheetah.




... and it was written, the young lioness with the good markings and ruffled mane and the old cheetah with the heavy heart were never again seen together at the grassy bank of the tributary ...


The End


Recommended Comments

it is indeed adeep wound for some..

it is not without the greatest regret

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