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梁遇春 《猫狗》
惭愧得很，我不单是怕狗，而且怕猫，其实我对于六合之内一切的动物都有些害怕。
怕狗这个情绪是许多人所能了解的，生出同情的。我的怕狗几乎可说是出自天性。记得从前到初等小学上课时候，就常因为恶狗当道，立刻退却，兜个大圈于，走了许多平时不敢走的僻路，结果是迟到同半天的心跳。十几年来踽踽地踯躅于这荒凉的世界上。童心差不多完全消失了，而怕狗的心情仍然如旧，这不知道是不是可庆的事。
怕狗，当然是怕它咬，尤其怕被疯狗咬。但是既会无端地咬起人来，那条狗当然是疯的。猛狗是可怕的，然而听说疯狗常常现出驯良的神气，尾巴低垂夹在两腿之间。并且狗是随时可以疯起来的。所以天下的狗都是可怕的。若使一个人给疯狗咬了，据说过几天他肚子里会发出怪声，好像有小疯狗在里叫着。这真是惊心动魄极了，最少对于神经衰弱的我是够恐怖了。
我虽然怕它，却万分鄙视它，厌恶它。缠着姨太太脚后跟的哈巴狗是用不着提的。就说那驰骋森林中的猎狗和守夜拒贼的看门狗罢！见着生客就狺狺著声势逼人，看到主子立刻伏贴贴地低首求欢，甚至于把前面两脚拱起来，别的禽兽绝没有像它这么奴性十足，总脱不了“走狗”的气味。西洋人爱狗已经是不对了，他们还有一句俗语“若使你爱我，请也爱我的狗罢”，（Love, me, Love my dog.）这真是岂有此理。人没有权利叫朋友这么滥情。不过西洋人里面也有一两人很聪明的。歌德在《浮士德》里说那个可怕的Mephistopheles 第一次走进浮士德的书房，是化为一条狗。因此我加倍爱念那部诗剧。
可是拿狗来比猫，可又变成个不大可怕的东西了。狗只能咬你的身体，猫却会蚕食你的灵魂，这当然是迷信，但是也很有来由。我第一次怕起猫来是念了爱伦坡的短篇小说《黑猫》。里面叙述一个人打死一只黑猫，此后遇了许多不幸事情而他每次在不幸事情发生的地点都看到那只猫的幻形，狞笑着。后来有一时期我喜欢念外国鬼怪故事，知道了女巫都是会变猫的，当赴撒但狂舞会时候，个个女巫用一种油涂在身上，念念有词，就化成一只猫从屋顶飞跳去了。中国人所谓狐狸猫，也是同样变幻多端，善迷人心灵的畜生，你看，猫的脚踏地无声，猫的眼睛总是似有意识的，它永远是那么偷偷地潜行，行到你身旁，行到你心里。《亚俪斯游记》里不是说有一只猫现形于空中，微笑着。一会儿猫的面部不见了，光剩一个笑脸在空中。这真能道出猫的神情，它始终这么神秘，这么阴谋着，这么留一个抓不到的影子在人们心里。欧洲人相信一只猫有十条命，仿佛中国也有同样的话，这也可以证明它的精神的深刻矫健了。我每次看见猫，总怕它会发出一种魔力，把我的心染上一层颜色，留个永不会退去的痕迹。碰到狗，我们一躲避开，什么事都没有了，遇见猫却不能这么容易预防。它根本不伤害你的身体，却要占住你的灵魂，使你失丢了人性，变成一个莫名其妙的东西，这些事真是可怕得使我不敢去设想，每想起来，总会打寒噤。
上海是一条狗，当你站在黄浦滩闭目一想，你也许会觉得横在面前是一条恶狗。狗可以代表现实的黑暗，在上海这现实的黑暗使你步步惊心，真仿佛一条疯狗跟在背后一样。北平却是一只猫。它代表灵魂的堕落。北平这地方有一种霉气，使人们百事废弛，最好什么也不想，也不干了，只是这么蹲着呆呆地过日子。真是一只大猫将个个人的灵魂都打上黑印，万劫不复了。
若使我们睁大眼睛，我们可以看出世界是给猫狗平分了。现实的黑暗和灵魂的堕落霸占了一切。我愿意这片大地是个绝无人烟的荒凉世界，我又愿意我从来就未曾来到世界过。这当然只是个黄金的幻梦。
作品译文
Cats and Dogs
I really hate to admit it, but I’m not only afraid of dogs, but also of cats. In fact, I’m afraid of all animals under the sun.
The fear of dogs is a feeling which many share and sympathize with. I have been a dog-fearer virtually from birth. I remember many a time when, on my way to school, I had to turn back at the sight of a vicious-looking canine blocking my way, and take a roundabout route through quiet back alleys which I would normally have avoided, arriving at school late and still trembling. After tramping this desolate world in solitude for more than a decade, most of my childish ideas have disappeared, yet my fear of dogs remains. I do not know whether or not I should congratulate myself on this.
This fear of dogs is, of course, a fear of being bitten, especially by a mad dog. Yet any dog that bites for no apparent reason must be mad fierce dogs are to be feared, but I have been told that mad dogs often give the appearance of being rather tame and gentle, with their tails tucked between their legs. What’s more, dogs can become demented at any time. Thus all dogs are to be feared. It is said that if a person is bitten by a mad dog, a funny noise will come out of his belly after a few days, as if a mad puppy is yapping inside. This is really alarming—at least, it is spooky enough for a faint-hearted person like myself.
While I’m afraid of dogs, I also greatly despise and detest the creatures. There is no need to mention those pekes that trail behind rich men’s concubines, even the hounds that race through the woods and watch-dogs that keep guard at night and scare away burglars are obnoxious. They bark madly at the sight of strangers, but docilely prostrate themselves to gain favor the moment they see their masters, and will even sit up and beg. No other animals are so servile. They will never be able to shed their “running-dog” image. Weaterners are wrong enough to love dogs, but going as far as to say “Love me, love my dog” is really over the top. No one has the right to ask his friend to love so indiscriminately. However, even among Westerners, there are a few smart ones. In Faust Goethe had Mephistopheles assume the form of a dog when he enters Faust’s study for the first time. I love the epic drama twice as much for this reason.
However, when compared with cats, dogs appear to be far less evil creatures. Dogs only bite your body, but cats will nibble away at your soul. Of course this is a superstition, but it is not without rhyme or reason. I first became fearful of cats after reading Edgar Allan Poe’s The Black Cat. It is about a person who encountered on misfortune after another after killing a black cat, and each time misfortune befell him, he saw the apparition of the black cat grinning hideously at him. After that I took to reading foreign ghost stories and came to know that witches can turn into cats. When a witch is to attend a Satanic Bacchanal, she rubs some oil on her body, mutters some incantations and turns herself into a cat. Then leaping from a roof, she flies away. What we Chinese refer to as fox-cats are also unpredictable and beguiling animals, cats walk noiselessly, their eyes ever so knowing. They are always creeping around surreptitiously, creeping up next to you, creeping into your mind. In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, we read about this grinning cat in the air, and how its face slowly vanishes until all that remains as the grin. This really captures the spirit of cats—always so mysterious and clandestine, leaving in one’s mind a shadow that cannot be caught. Europeans believe that cats have ten lives and, if I remember correctly, we we Chinese have a similar saying. This is real proof of the powerful presence of cats. Every time, I see a cat, I become worried that it will exert its magic power and stain my heart with some indelible dye. When we come across dogs, we only need to dodge them and nothing untoward will happen to us; but cats are not so easy to avoid. They will not harm you physically, but they will take over your soul, rob you of your human nature and turn you into something indescribable. Such fears are really too horrible to contemplate, and they make me tremble every time I think of them.
Shanghai is a dog. When you stand on the Bund and close your eyes, you may well visualize a vicious dog stretched out before you. Dogs represent the seamy side of reality. The darkness of reality in Shanghai makes you jumpy, as if there really is a mad dog at your heels. Peking, however, is a cat. It represents the fallen soul. Peking has a mustiness about it which makes people lax, not wanting to think or do anything, just content to stay put and muddle through life. It is as if a big cat has stamped a black mark on every soul, condemning them for eternity.
If we open our eyes, we can see that the world is equally divided between the cats and the dogs, the darkness of reality and the decadence of the soul have conquered all. I wish that this vast earth of ours were a wilderness with no trace of human habitation, and that I had never set foot on it. This, of course, is but a pipe-dream.
