Sphinx

by JunoMagic
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives-ShareAlike license

Sphinx

‘A senile sphinx?’ the shop owner rages. ‘What the bloody ‘ell am I s’pposed to do with that?’

The servant-boy sweeping the stalls of the pegasi smirks. ‘Kill her, master, kill her!’ he suggests. But a nasty gleam in his eyes betrays that he knows very well the consequences legends promise for killing a sphinx.

Minnie – short for Minerva – frowns. The sphinx in question is about the size of a big dog, with dust-grey, scruffy fur. Her amber eagle eyes are very round and confused, and she’s  moulting badly. Minnie can see patches of pink skin between her feathers. The sphinx is opening and closing her beak, but no sound or question emerges.

Minnie bites down on her lower lip. She of the many questions feels sympathy with this ragged old beast who’s obviously lost her legendary inquisitiveness.

‘I’ll buy her.’

‘What?!’

The shop owner stares at her, as if scrawny girls in tartan skirts shouldn’t even enter ‘McDonald’s Magical Monsters’, much less offer to buy a magical creature there. Then the shop-keep recognises her and squints.

‘Ye want a cat, Minnie, just wait til them rats ye’re breedin’ at yer place grow fat. Then catch the cat a-preyin’ on ’em, an’ ye’re all set. Or keep a rat as a pet, might be easier. An’ as I says, since ye’re already breedin’ ’em, ye might as well make the most of it.’

‘I appreciate the advice, Mr McDonald,’ Minnie says primly. ‘But we already have a cat. Three, in fact. Very good rat catchers, all of them, thank you very much. I’d like the sphinx.’ Minnie looks at the creature, and hopes that she’s too far gone to understand they’re talking about her. ‘And since she’s in such a pathetic condition, I expect that she’s a bargain. In fact, you might very well pay me for taking her off your hands.’

Minnie realises that even if she drives the stiffest bargain this side of Hadrian’s Wall, she’ll likely spend all of her savings on the animal. She knows that Uncle Topaz won’t mind. But Auntie Claire is a different matter altogether.

It goes as expected; Minnie gets the sphinx, comes home broke, and without the requisite merchandise she was sent out to acquire at the market, but instead a scruffy old sphinx tottering at her side.

Likewise, as expected, Uncle Topaz is delighted and proceeds to proclaim a prose-poem on the topic, while Auntie Claire is disgusted. However, Minnie knows: Auntie’s bark is worse than her bite. Thus neither sphinx nor Minnie go to bed famished.

Minnie does what she can to take care of the poor old sphinx. She brushes her coat, gently tugs at moulting feathers, dusts her for mites and acquires a swan’s wing to scratch her neck, so her fingers wouldn’t harm the delicate bars and barbules of her feathers. Only much later does she realise that good care and the right diet — fatty fish rich with omega-3-acids — are the best therapy for her new pet.

At that point, all Minnie notices is that the sphinx looks less panicked, that she sometimes stretches luxouriously, now and again curls up comfortably, and that she’s wisely whispering at night – a soothing sound, like lullabies. Minnie calls her Lassie and cuddles her.

Then, one night, Minnie wakes from a nightmare to find the sphinx on top of her, beautiful green-golden eyes glowing in the darkness.

Suddenly, Lassie asks a question: ‘Where does the wind go when it doesn’t blow?’

Minnie freezes, mind frantic.

Sphinx. Question. Sphinx. On her stomach. Shite.

The silence stretches, and Minnie expects the worst. But Lassie only nudges her hand and starts purring, ever so softly.

‘Maybe it’s asleep,’ ventures Minnie at last. ‘The wind.’

Lassie blinks at her, confused. Obviously the old sphinx has already forgotten her question again.

Two nights later, Lassie is grooming Minnie awake, combing her hair with her beak. As soon as Minnie rubs her eyes, Lassie draws back her shoulders, and says, quite clearly: ‘Why is a square meal served on round plates?’

Minnie notices that Lassie’s coat and feathers gleam in the dark. And even as her heart starts racing, she thinks – you’re better my dearie, I’m so glad!

After a few minutes, Lassie loses interest again and is happy with the scratchies and caresses Minerva offers her. A long while later, Minnie tentatively offers her answer. ‘Maybe because you can be hungry either way?’

With that, a precedent is set.

‘Why do we say “heads up” when we actually duck?’ – ‘Because we shouldn’t duck,’ is Minnie’s answer, delivered with conviction, and cause for much purring.

‘If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them…what do you have left? Is it an odd or an end?’ – ‘Neither,’ says Minnie. ‘It’s a mite, a smidge or a dram, depending on what it’s made of.’ That causes some grumbling; obviously Lassie’s still hungry.

The first correctly answered question is: ‘What is that no man ever saw which never was but always will be?’ Upon which Minnie squeals, ‘Tomorrow.’

This causes Lassie to have an attack of the vapours, and Minnie is careful never to give the outright correct answer to her sphinx’s riddles thereafter. It’s painfully obvious that old age and neglect have positively riddled the poor sphinx’ mind, and nowadays it’s correct answers that make her dangerous, not wrong – or at the very least, vague – replies.

Luckily, the sphinx’ way of questioning has suffered from the vagaries of old age, too, although Minnie would never admit it.

And as time goes by, she grows used to the unanswerable questions her pet always poses.

‘Can you cry underwater?’ (Of course; but no one would notice which would be ever so much better than to be teased by your class mates.)

‘What happens if you get scared half to death twice?’ (You’d end up a very frightened ghost, naturally.)

‘What do people in China call their good plates?’ (Good plates.)

As time goes by, they move on to more difficult questions:

‘What’s a question that has no answer?’

‘Why is there anything rather than nothing?’

‘How do you know that you exist?’

‘What is good? What is evil?’

Thus the years pass. Minnie starts school, and for a while she can only answer Lassie’s questions in the holidays. But the old sphinx is tough, and patient. Always waiting for her owner, always asking, always wondering.

Until, one day, she doesn’t wake Minnie anymore with her endless, nigthly questions. Now Lassie just snoozes, day and night, curled up in her basket, grown ancient even beyond senility.

One night, the sphinx’ gentle snoring stops.

Uncle Topaz helps Minnie to bury her beloved pet in the one corner of the yard where it’s possible – under the apple tree.

oooOooo

Lassie was gone, but the questions remained. Over the years, Minnie managed to answer some of them. Others eluded her.

One remained.

But Minnie knew, that one day her beloved sphinx would answer it for her:

‘Are you awake or are you dreaming?’

Song of the day:

Link(s) of the day:

The Greek Sphinx at the Theoi website | The Sphinxes of India | Sphinx art at Artcyclopedia

…and my wish for you today is:

May you never know all the answers, but always ask the right questions.

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