Meanwhile, Cat could not believe that Hare was dead. His mind wondered to the fact that was no secret, the truth that he had killed and eaten many an animal by playing a cooking game with them. They said he was worse than a hen that ate her own eggs, and then professed ignorance of their stealthy decrease and disappearance.
Though he was advanced in age, toothless and hard of hearing, he relished tucking into other animal`s meat. He derived pleasure from eating game. And he always had a game up his sleeve. The soot of his pot he always ingeniously rubbed it off on other animals. The game usually started like this: Hare would ask the other animals to heave him up into a huge pot under which a fire raged. A lid would be slapped on the three legged vessel. When the inside of the container got too searing to bear, he would ask the other beast to take out the lid and promptly take him out. Telling the other animal to relax, he would help it to clumber up into the pot and slam the lid on with a cynical smile.
However, after a while when the other animal duly requested to be rescued from the high temperature, he merrily sang, “Burn my little animal, burn! “The other animal would probably plead, “Please, please open up the pot. I’m being fried alive!” He would sing with contentment,” Yes, that suits you well, my little animal. Tshana nyamazana yami tshana ! (Burn my little animal, burn!)” . The poor animal would thus be clandestinely cooked and eaten by none other than him.
He and only he would enjoy the meat like a glutton and after the meal, whistle through the bone opening of that animal, boasting,” I said let us cook one another, he agreed. But l ended up cooking him!” Sometimes he would trick a creature and leave him holding on to a boulder. He considered other clawed animals` meat as his favourite relish.
