Once upon a time, there was a bisexual cat named Don Arminigo who was very good at hunting mouses. He would catch them, he would torture them; sometimes, if he got bored, he would eat them, but more often he would let them go. He had noticed that once he let them go, they became more of a challenge. And he liked a good challenge.
But the Insignificant Humans squatting in his palace were fearful of the mouses. They set traps for them, which Don Arminigo found quite distasteful. And one day, a particularly bold but stupid mouse Don Arminigo had caught, told him “This is the last time, Don Arminigo! Your masters are putting down poison and we’re all going to take it, because we’re all so sick of you!”
Once Don Arminigo had figured out whom the small creature meant as his “masters” (it had to be the Insignificant Humans! *scoff*) he was quite upset. But he got the better of those mouses—he found the rat poison in the pantry and he ripped it open, spoiling the Insignificant Humans’ plans.
“We can’t have that stuff in the house around Fluffy,” the broad one with the bald face said. “It’s too dangerous!” Fluffy was what Don Arminigo suffered the Insignificant Humans to call him.
And so it was that Don Arminigo protected his domain.
But he grew tired of chasing the mouses. Even the smartest and most agile of them were no match for his strength. He needed better prey. Larger and more terrifying. Which is why he trained the Insignificant Humans to leave the window open for him at night.
In the forest outside his palace, there lived an extraordinary Moose named Janet. She was eight feet tall and had antlers that could beat most trees in a fist-fight. “Antlers?” her friends would ask, “But I thought only male Moose had antlers!” Then she would turn her nose up at them and dare them to question her gender identity.
When Don Arminigo heard of this magnificent creature, of her grace and majesty, he knew no other beast on earth could slake his lust for blood. He saw her through the trees one autumn evening, munching on local leaves, and carefully plotted an attack until finally he threw himself out of the underbrush, leapt up onto her shins and clawed at the fur there like catnip.
It was several seconds before Janet the Moose even realized that anything was the matter. Assuming that the ticklish itch just over her ankle must be foliage, she lifted it up and then noticed it was still itching and finally looked.
“Ha-ha!” said Don Arminigo the bisexual cat. “I have caught you at last!”
“Oh dear,” said Janet the Moose. “I guess I’m in trouble now.”
“You have guessed rightly!” said Don Arminigo, renewing his assault on the rough fur.
Janet, now that she understood what was happening down there, soon realized she found the sensation quite pleasant. But, fearful that the valiant little hunter might stop or lose interest, she yawned “Oh, please, sir! Please! Not there! Not there! Oh, no!”
Satisfied that he had triumphed, Don Arminigo returned to the palace, where the Insignificant Humans had placed his food out for him as a reward for his bravery and skill.
This episode repeated for several nights as Don Arminigo ventured out and never noticed that Janet the Moose crept subtly closer to his domain, to cut down on his travel time. But then one day, Don Arminigo overheard the Insignificant Humans talking around their table.
“I’mana git that Moose!” said the furry-faced one, “He’s gon’ be food this winter and a nice fur coat for Betsy!”
The small, fast one’s face turned red at this and Don Arminigo grew fearful. Would they really do it? Would they really steal his prize? He found this most distressing.
That night, when he came upon Janet in the Glade just the other side of the fence from the property, Don Arminigo wondered how he could go about tricking the large, stupid beast into making it to safety.
“Gee,” said Janet, who had noticed Don Arminigo in the underbrush and wondered what was taking him so very long. “I wonder where that magnificent predator is! Maybe he’s forgotten about me! I hope he doesn’t come to me tonight! Maybe he’s lost the knack for tracking me!”
Unable to withstand such a taunt, Don Arminigo leapt out of the bushes with a fervor spurred by fear, crying “Aha! You thought you were safe, but I will show you how unsafe you are!”
“Oh, no!” yawned Janet, as Don Arminigo ventured further up her fur than he had ever dared till then.
“I’ll teach you!” cried Don Arminigo, “I’ll teach you to come close enough to my palace that the Insignificant Humans can see you!”
But at the mention of Humans, Janet’s eyes went wide and dilated. “Humans!” she exclaimed, and with Don Arminigo on her back, she charged back into the wilderness, never to return.
And there, far from the Insignificant Humans and their various schemes to thwart Don Arminigo’s natural instincts, Janet the Moose and Don Arminigo the Bisexual Cat lived happily ever after as cat and moose.