Painted Dog

"What do you wish the king to know?" I asked.

"He needs to get his pride away from the roads when human tourists come through," the painted dog answered.

I frowned. "Why would he do that? Humans come to the Pride Lands simply because we have so many lions."

"But I'm rare!" The dog grinned. "You know how happy the humans are when they see me?"

"I'll consider the matter," I promised.

He sighed. "I wish I were more like the cheetahs. Some of them jump onto the…What do you call it?"

"Vehicles. I don't see why they bother humans like that!"

The painted dog shrugged. "The humans like it. They put the pictures in…What's the word for those weird leaves they like to wave around when they're here?"

I thought a moment. "I believe humans refer to them as travel brochures."

The dog suddenly grinned and darted off, instantly joined by others of his kind. As I watched, I noticed them chase a leopard up the nearest acacia. For reasons that escape me, painted dogs greatly enjoy tormenting leopards.

Feeling the slightest inklings of an idea begin to form, I flew over to the dogs. "Do you often engage in this pastime?"

"Occasionally," the lead female responded. "When we are alone, we dare not challenge our rival, but as a pack, we are invincible."

"Would you be willing to do this more often? If King Simba and his queen were to have a cub…"

"I wish we could," she replied, "but we have our own priorities."

The leopardess smiled down from the branch where she was resting out of the dogs' reach. "Priorities, you say? I simply love priorities!"

"Hunting and protecting our territory, if you must know!" the lead male retorted. "We failed to raise pups this year!"

The leopardess twitched her tail. "But your lead female looks as if she has recently borne new life."

"Stillborn, all of them!" the recent mother answered.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She began licking her paw in that vexing manner all cats possess. "I do so enjoy kissing young infants of any species!"

"Only because your own never survived!"

The leopardess hissed, her eyes narrowing. I could feel her anger like steam from a geyser.

"Go ahead and make enemies!" another dog taunted. "If the Circle of Life grants you another chance at motherhood, all will target your litter!"

Without a word, the leopardess sprang from the tree, landing on the back of the lead female. The rest of the pack fought bravely to protect their leader, but by the time they drove the leopardess away, the victim was badly injured.

The lead male stood beside her and gently licked her face in that repulsive gesture so common among dogs. His mate lay panting for breath as her blood stained the grass.

When she could finally speak, she instructed, "Take you know who to you know where."

"You died trying to save them," he replied. "Could anything be more noble?"

"My leaders!" one of the subordinate dogs dared to interrupt. "Let us go for help! It may be that it is not yet too late."

"Yes, go quickly!"

I frowned. Why were so many infants stillborn? Were the mothers unhealthy? Did the fault lie with the fathers?

Whatever the cause may have been, I was a male bird without a mate. I knew nothing of the continuation of mammalian species.