The Zodiac Schmodiac Story Cycle

Laoshu, A.K.A., You Dirty Rat

Come closer. Yes, just a bit closer, look me in the eye please. I'm about to tell you something very important, do try and pay attention. It's all a lie. Don't get too excited, but it's all a lie. Everything they've told you about us and that ridiculous story that's passed around by librarians and kind-hearted aunties as they give you a fortune cookie and cup of tea, it's all a lie. Don't think that just because I look like a rat iI am one. I know my eyes are tiny and beady, but you humans are the ones who made that into a bad thing, not I. I could pick up any mousy in any club from here to Hong Kong with these eyes. These eyes say "trust me." I will only tell you the truth. They've been lying to you this whole time. 

So why come forward now? Haven't I been vindicated by the centuries, been first on the list for as long as there has been a list? In the name of harmony between East and West, of course. Listen, perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot. It appears that I'm not quite as well known on this side of the world as I would have liked. Let's start with introductions, shall we?

I am Laoshu. Some people call me merely Shu, but I appreciate it when people show the proper respect of adding my title. Did you know that Lao means "old?" You didn't? In that case it also means highly revered and worthy of the utmost respect, someone to be listened to with out any doubt or questioning. Chinese is a very deep language, you see. For far too long I have been called "rat" in this language, a name that I do not much care for. The very word "rat" has such unpleasant connotations, don't you think? In Chinese we don't have a word for rats, just one for all rodents. Just Laoshu. Think of me as a very big, very honest and trustworthy church mouse if you'd like. 

I would like to set the record straight, to help you to better understand we of the East. The world is changing so fast now, we must learn to trust each other. For far too long there has been misunderstanding and distrust between East and West. The world has become far to small for such sentiments! Much of your life depends on the East, just as much of our life depends on the West. We should be friends, not enemies. Ah, our cultures are different, but what of that? Have we not all adopted the culture of modernism? My story may seem quaint, but I tell it to you so that you can better understand we of the East. And I will tell you the true story, not the grossly exagerrated piddle that has been told for so long. All in the spirit of trust and understanding, my friend!

Long ago in Ancient China life was hard. The Chinese have always been a hungry people. Not hungry for money or power or glory, though some are. Mostly we are just hungry because there is never enough food. I come from a time when everyone was hungry, and that is the most important thing to remember about my tale. What else could someone who is always hungry do? It may not be the best motivation, but it is what motivated me. 

I lived on a farm in China, ruled over by a tyrant farmer whose temper was never pleasant and who enjoyed punishing his servants the animals. Not a day went by without one of those poor beasts being beaten or berated. The only good thing about the situation was that the farmer was well to do and a Buddhist. In good years he would treat himself to some exotic present like a giant lizard like he had seen at the trader's house or a new wife or concubine. He enjoyed both the exotic animals and the new wives for just a short time before his temper would return. In poor years his temper flamed brighter than ever and we could all look forward to abuse whenever he felt the need to abuse. It was a hard life, but whose life is not hard? At least we had a place to call home and a master who never ate animals. 

After one very dry year the farmer announced that he was sending away the laborers. He said there was not enough rice for both his family and the workers, and so they left. The next year was drier still. He sold off wives and daughters to meet his obligations, and worked the animals harder and harder. When the third year brought so little rain that the rice paddies dried before the sprouting rice had even taken root, the farmer and all in the land had nothing left. The goose disappeared one night, and the old cat who had grown fat and slow. No one could imagine where they had gotten to until we smelled the smell of cooking meat coming from the great house. Some Buddhist he had proved himself to be! Eat a cat rather than starve? Didn't Lord Buddha himself say that life is suffering? Perhaps the farmer had a difficult time seeing past his hunger. Once he had a taste of the animal flesh he had been denying himself for so many years he was insatiable. Animals disappeared daily, and reappeared as bones and skin in the trash heap. Finally we were called together to hear the farmer speak.