Too many tangles from all the frumpus.
~ Capybara aphorism
It is a little-known fact that Capybaras come from the moon. This probably seems so outlandish that anyone who discovers the truth dismisses it as hokum. Capybaras do nothing to defend their heritage. If anything, ignorance among humans serves them well. What’s more, when they first arrived on Earth, they didn’t like us one bit. We were not at all what they expected. Pique spread through the explorers soon after they landed. Much energetic debate was had about whether they should give up in the whole venture and go home immediately.
Curiosity is what brought them to Earth. Through their telescopes, they observed a fascinating new species of hominid getting up to all sorts of business. This was simply too tantalising for a small minority of Capybaras with explorer souls. They just had to see us up close. The others found the notion of popping by Earth to be ridiculous. The prevailing temperament of the Capybara is one of inertia. Things were good on the moon. Life made sense. Why stir up all manner of trouble by visiting the busy bipeds?
So it was that a disobedient little group made off with a spacecraft. The outrage at this theft reverberated across the moon for months. Perhaps one reason that the incorrigible band didn’t immediately return to the moon was because they were a little contrite about their naughtiness.
After deciding to stay, they imagined themselves as survivors, colonists even, creating a new home for themselves in this strange place. For a generation they battened down the hatches and did what they came here to do: study us. Gloomy though their first impressions were, they were greatly surprised to find the task quite fulfilling.
One big upheaval in a lifetime was enough for them, though. They were still Capybaras after all. There began a moon-like aversion to change, and they unwittingly became more and more like those they had left behind. The following generation was worse, grumbling over even the smallest of inconveniences. A return to the status quo appeared inevitable.
Then Oscar was born. It took time, but everything changed dramatically after his legend spread.
Oscar was not understood in his time. His coat was too glossy, his eyes too bright and his ideas too peculiar. What really set the cat among the pigeons was his kindness (the Capybara expression is actually “what floofed the tiny hairs”, but you’d have to be a Capybara to appreciate the nuance). You see, Oscar cared so openly for others, so unselfishly, that the rest of the Capybaras were suspicious. “We’re not that nice,” they thought. “Nobody is that nice.”
Oscar was that nice.
When the messier and more unruly Capybaras got all in a tizz because their coats had become snarled up, Oscar would sit calmly for hours untangling them. He was never affronted by the nips, growls and yelps of outrage. He knew that it hurt to have your fur pulled. When the Capybara mothers needed a break, Oscar would entertain the disruptive cubs with fantastical stories. He would even embellish his narratives with doodles in the mud. The mothers were taken aback when they discovered his mud artwork, but when weighed against the respite they had enjoyed, it was agreed that his wild imaginings were nothing to be alarmed about.
Unfortunately for Capybara Oscar, these selfless deeds ultimately did become a problem. Many gatherings were convened to discuss what was to be done about him and his weird niceness. It was eventually agreed that Oscar was too nice. He was making everyone else look bad and that would not do. Not even the mothers who had so benefitted from his help came to his defence.
The elders summoned Oscar and said: “We like you Oscar, we really do. You’re nice. Everybody knows that. But we want you to live in this house which we got for you. It’s in the woods, way away from the rest of us. Don’t come visit us though, we’ll come visit you. Sometimes. Ok?”
This made poor Oscar feel very sad. He was such a community-spirited fellow. All he ever wanted to do was help. He certainly didn’t want to cause any trouble. So with heaviness in his heart, he moved into his lonely house in the woods.
For a while he felt quite rotten. His punishment seemed extremely unfair. He wanted to be part of the fluff and fumble of day-to-day life. Forcefully becoming a hermit made him very lonely. He spent a couple of weeks listlessly exploring the area around his house. He had to admit that they had given him a nice house and they did visit every now and then.
One day, he decided to stop feeling sorry for himself. “Right,” he thought, “they don’t understand me. That’s ok. They may not understand me for a long time. That’s also ok. I have such big dreams about what the world could be. I’ll set them down and maybe a long time in the future, others will see the world through my eyes.”
His mind bubbling with visions, Oscar began to paint little stories on the walls of his house. This bizarre development was the final straw for the others. They stopped visiting altogether. Oscar was not surprised. He was happy with his mission. Over his remaining years, his filled every wall, ceiling and available surface with his view of the world as a better place. He made his house a shrine of possibility to Capybara-kind.
As he finished his final doodle in the last remaining empty space, he breathed a sigh of satisfaction. This was a good life. A job well done. His time was almost at an end, so he spent his final days touching up little flaws in his paintings. Quietly, contentedly and without a fuss, Oscar passed with a smile.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Capybaras had settled back into their disgruntled routine. A return to normal yes, but ever since they had banished Oscar there had been a growing dissatisfaction. Darn that troublesome Capybara. Why couldn’t he just have been as grumpy and inert as the rest of them? Why did he have to have new ideas?
They blundered along for a while but try as they might, they didn’t seem able to settle back into the old ways. The possibility of Something Else needled them. Eventually and after much complaint and resistance, Action Was Taken. An expedition was dispatched to Oscar’s house with the intent of giving him a sound telling off for his troublesomeness. What a shock it was to find him gone and the building so beautifully adorned. Wonder replaced everything else.
As they took in everything, the legend was born: Oscar, Capybara prophet of kindness. Slowly and with my bellyaching, they tried living as the artwork suggested. This sea change began the age of Capybara delight.
What then does all of this have to do with us? Well, having found life according to the Legend of Oscar to be so successful, the Capybaras of Earth looked outward. Perhaps their explorer ancestors had missed a trick. Humans were not a disappointment to be endured. We were an opportunity to share in their wisdom.
What if, maybe, possibly, hopefully, the Legend of Oscar could show us a better way, just like it had for them? Could another species be enlightened by the Capybara prophet of kindness?
Their work is ongoing. But as you reflect on The Legend of Oscar, consider: have you ever encountered a sad Capybara?