Hard to Catch

“Strider! I think Streak is over here in the bush!”

Strider ran to help Taran. If the cats didn’t work together to keep the porch free of lizards, those tasty green things would over-run the place. At least, that’s what they told the people about why they chased them. Every now and then Hunter would be here, and he really didn’t like to see the cats hunting the lizards. In fact, Hunter would wear a drawing of one of those green delicacies on his shirt sometimes.

The real reason for chasing them, of course, is that lizards are delicious, and you didn’t even have to bite into them. You could just roll them around in your mouth for a while, and enjoy that flavor … sometimes they wouldn’t survive, but mostly you could get all the flavor off, then let them go again. Or if they drowned, you put them at the door into the big house where the people stayed, to let them know you were doing your job.

Hard to tell if the people really understood, or appreciated what you did for them. You could tell them, of course, but they were fairly dense, and didn’t seem to really get it, most of the time. They must be smart, because they could do all sorts of things. Make water fall on the grass, even when there is no rain. Make food fall out of a small, round holder, every day, over and over, like it was never empty. Get in their cars, go away, then come back. Make the air cool inside the big house where they stayed, even when it was hot, and make it hot in there, even when it was dog cold out here.

But simple communication seemed to give them trouble. If we all gather at the door and look through the glass at them, they can guess that we’re hungry. But when we want to play croquet with them, or Bocci Ball, or even just walk with them a ways down the street, they shoo us away. And there’s absolutely no hope of discussing something as complex as meal variety, forget it.

But where was that lizard Streak? Looks like Taran’s lost him again. He’s really good, that one!

Shorty froze behind a twig deep inside the hedge.

“Streak! Here comes Taran, and he’s calling Strider! He sees you!”

“Not for long. Watch this!”

Streak slipped into the gap behind an outlet box fastened to the wall. Taran came quickly, running in a half crouch and not blinking once. He stared at the wall where Streak had been moments before, amazed at the quickness of the little lizard. Shorty held his breath. Streak held his breath. Taran held his position, a stone statue sprayed with golden fur.

“Strider, this is crazy! I can smell him! I know he’s here!”

Strider stretched out on the concrete, and laughed. He had heard this before. Streak was without fear, and would taunt Taran almost within paw’s stroke, then suddenly be gone. He would walk up the white, square posts around the porch, and puff his throat bright red, looking good for the ladies and daring Taran to make a run for him. He would slip, of course, some day, and Taran would taste the delicacy he so intently sought today. But that day was not this day.

He laughed again, realizing he was quoting another Strider.

Outside, Streak was challenging Shorty to a race. Not a race against each other, of course, lizard to lizard. That would be boring. A race with Taran, or another of the cats. Of course, the consequences of losing that race could be significant, so they had plenty of motivation to win.

“Here’s the deal,” said Streak. “You get on the rail here, puff up your throat so Taran sees you. As soon as he looks at us, jump into the hedge, onto the landscape timber, down to the electrical outlet, across to the screen, and up to the roof of the screen, over the water.”

“That’s too long on the ground. If he comes around the hedge, he’ll get us. But if he comes down the porch and through the hedge, it’ll slow him down, and we might make it.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’, slowpoke?”

“Any other cats around? Any chance we’ll get intercepted?”

“Don’t think so. They’re all on the far side of the porch.”

“Alright, suicide jockey, let’s go!”

Shorty looked around the railing post. Taran was stretched out at the corner. Good. It would take him a moment to get into motion.

Taran was watching the lizards at the far end of the porch. Pretending to be lazing about, he was planning every motion for maximum speed. Any minute now they would be up on that rail, and he would launch himself towards them.

“Strider,” he whispered.

Strider lifted his head, and looked over.

“They’re challenging us again. Go around the house. Looks like they’ll head for the pool screen.”

Ahh, the taste of lizard. Sure, he could stand a little work for that. He could feel one on his tongue already, rolling it around …

Strider eased off the porch and trotted around to the far side of the house. When he thought there had been enough time, Taran raised his head and looked down the porch.

Shorty saw Taran lift his head.

“OK. He can see us now. You ready?”

“Go!” ***

Shorty and Streak jumped onto the railing. Without giving them a moment to puff up and get set, Taran was on his feet.

“Whoa, get it on, brother!” shouted Streak, leaping into the hedge. Shorty was past him in a moment. Having already lost a tail to this cat, he felt a righteous certainty that it was Streak’s turn to donate an appendage if they lost.

Leaping to the timber and racing along to the end of it, they jumped into the grass. “This is the hard part. Let’s go!”

Suddenly Strider was in front of them, and they realized the trap.

“Split up!”

Shorty dove left, and Streak jumped to the right. Strider was confused, and lost sight of both of them.

Taran piled into him. “Where are they? Did you catch one?”

Strider frantically looked around. The lizards had disappeared into the bermuda, and were holding absolutely still to avoid drawing their eyes. “They’re here… they’re here… look around. They can’t hold still very long, they’re not that smart.”

Shorty and Streak were holding still, and being paralyzed in fear helped their resolve. But, alas, the cats were right … it is not in the nature of the anole lizard to keep his attention focused for long periods of time, nor to hold himself rigidly still for more than a minute or two. However, they can change color in seconds, and these two had changed from green to brown, gotten as deep into the St. Augustine roots as they could, and disappeared beautifully.

Long moments went by. Finally, Shorty forgot the imminent danger, drifted back into green, and moved to come up from the grass roots. Instantly Taran pounced, and got a paw on top of him.

Just then a roar came around the corner. Both cats looked up, and jumped out of the way of the red motorcycle coming across the grass and heading for the driveway.

Apparently the anoles jumped the other way, because they were not seen again that day. And it was a very long time before Streak challenged anyone to a race again. A couple of days, at least. Maybe a week.