A Monologue from a Lioness

Me reading my newest piece, a Monologue from a Lioness.

     

I have the power of a thousand, eyes that flash and tempt, paws with sharp claws. And only the best can tame me. I have watched them fail, time after time, not realizing how to lasso me around the neck. I have sat in wait, cautiously watching around me and playing with the toys they threw. Some entertained me for awhile. At one point, I found one very interesting and it kept my attention for many months, a snow globe sparkling in the light. But alas, the snow globe broke from the pressure of my paws. The flakes of snow fell all around me as I cried, the little snowman now without a home and without a winter wonderland circling around him. It was a good toy. I had loved my time with it, but it was gone and it was time to move on.
     That was when I found something else. It wasn't entirely new to me, I had glanced at it before. It didn't sparkle, but it had something about it. It wasn't a bone or a piece of meat. It wasn't a ball of yarn that would unravel the minute I began my play. No, it was hardier than that. It wasn't like the snow globe with its fragile outside and fate that could only be moved by others and not itself. Rather, it was a tiny screen and in front, a little controller. Just the right size for my paws, I turned it over and over in my hands before my claws sat on its buttons. It made sounds, it lit up, it played back. I smiled in my toothy lioness way. Maybe this one would stick around.
   As I played, he came up and sat at my side, not my back or in front of me. Not trying to be my servant, not afraid of me and not trying to control. No, he approached me as an equal and I respected that as he pulled out another controller from his pocket. I let him lean on me, stroke my fur as we sat, together as one.