Of Lions and Love

"Yes, of course, thank you. I'll be right over." I dropped the phone on the hook and quickly searched for my coat. My husband looked at me from over his newspaper with a strange expression. The man always reads the funnies at least twice, and nothing short of an atomic war would keep him from his comics. The look in my face must have been nuclear, because he sat up immediately as I passed by him.

"Caroline? What happened."

I was too occupied to be surprised by his concern. "It's Tal, they are sending him off tonight."

"Talami? Where?"

"To Seattle," I said, picking through the jackets in the closet, "there's a breeding program that he's been invited to."

"Then where are you going so fast?" he said, getting up and instinctively looking for a jacket.

"I'm going to say goodbye," I stated, refusing to make eye contact, "and I don't want you to come."

"It's a 45 minute drive, Caroline," my husband protested in that protective mate voice. "Besides, it's the middle of the night. Don't you want company?"

I tried to keep my irritation down. "Don't argue with me James, I have to do this myself." I'd already grabbed my purse and was headed for the door before I noticed the bright orange ball in my closet. Though it caught me off guard, I decided to tuck it under my arm. The motion gave James just enough time to cut me off.

"Whoa, wait a moment!"

"Let me go," I muttered, trying to push around him.

"Caroline, stop. Hold on a moment." He grasped my shoulders with gentle firmness. I tried to find something interesting in the foyer to look at, anything to avoid making the eye contact that would suck all my secrets into the open. James was too observant for that, I'm afraid, and gently touched his finger to my cheek. "Carol, look at me."

I didn't want to look, but there was something overpowering in his masculine calm. Somewhere in his deep brown eyes, I could piece together the random bits of concern that were gathering in his mind. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my vision clear. I rubbed the ball anxiously.

"James, please," I whispered, "don't do this to me."

"I know what he means to you and I'm sorry," James started. "I just want to be sure you know you've done your part. He's better off because of you."

As he trailed off, I could feel myself already starting to lose my composure. "I can't do this right now. I'm sorry, James."

I went past him, through the front door, and toward my fading brown corolla all in the same motion. After a brief struggle with the door handle, I threw myself into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine was not an impressive growl, but gruff enough to set my mind thinking about Talami. I backed out of the driveway and started down the narrow street of my neighborhood at twice my normal speed. My only thought was getting to the zoo so I could see my baby one more time—perhaps one last time. It must sound strange when I explain to people that my baby is in a zoo. Most make an obligatory joke about pre-schoolers or young children, but they are surprised when I calmly tell them the truth.

You see, Talami is a lion.

Five years ago, the police busted a major drug lord off on the eastern border of New Havern, just a few miles outside my town. Beside enough drugs to dope up nine or ten college campuses, they found an ailing lioness chained in a cage intended for a large dog. Creeps like him keep exotic animals as trophies to show off to their pathetic clientele. Sometimes they are kept as attack animals to ward petty thieves from their stash. They can hardly take care of themselves, let alone a needy exotic animal. It all makes me sick.

I got the emergency call from the police department sometime that evening. Since I'm the only one in a fifty mile radius trained to handle exotic animals, I was the natural choice to check it out. When I got there, the lioness was very pregnant and in bad shape. She was already going into respiratory arrest when we got her from the van to my office. I took the gamble that we could save the cub and did an emergency operation as soon as we arrived.

The mother died after three days of terrible pain. I keep telling myself we did all we could. No amount of medicine seemed to control her seizures. It's hard enough to know what drugs to use because so few have ever been tested on exotics. Sometimes we gamble and win—we didn't that time. Later, we discovered evidence of internal head injuries, probably the result of being beaten for whatever sadistic reason. Her cub, a single male, lived. We called many people in the sanctuary circles, but to no avail. There were just too few capable of handling a young lion cub, let alone absorb the inevitable costs that would occur over the next 20 years of his captive life. No zoo wanted to take him, mostly because it was so difficult to tell his lineage. Such is the harsh fate of exotic creatures in the hands of ill prepared owners. I was unwilling to give up, and against my better judgment, took him into my home.

I turned onto the highway and let the sluggish car pick up speed. Oh, Talami was such a handful at first. He was intrigued by his new surroundings and experimented with anything he could get his paws or mouth on. Sometimes he'd discover that he'd bitten off more than he could chew, and would make a mess trying to get away from whatever had scared him. I had quite a time trying to convince the little guy that the doorbell was not cause to rampage around the house in fear. It'd not be unusual to find something breaking or getting ready to break, no matter how much I watched him. James' computer job took him to Japan for several months, leaving me and the little whirlwind all alone. In that time, my curtains were shredded, my couch was ruined, my carpets soiled, and my life in shambles. It took me almost three weeks to make my house a suitable enclosure for Talami because he kept messing things up! In retrospect, it's probably a good thing James wasn't there. I would not have been easy to live with.

But, oh, there were those moments—those precious, blessed moments that bring a tear to my eye when I remember them! The many hours I spent with the bundle of fur balanced in my arms, gently purring to him while his cute little paws rocked his bottle of warm milk back and forth as he suckled. Or the long nights where he'd cry and mewl for me to hold him. And I would! Oh, I would be there in a heartbeat, letting his warm, furry chin rest against my bare leg as I stroked the fear from his tiny body. He would make a soft purring grunt—a sweet, leonine sound that might have sounded threatening to anyone else but spoke volumes of love and tenderness to me.

When he got older, we used to talk all the time. He would rest his head in my lap and look up at me with those big, beautiful amber eyes. In them, I could see a questioning, curious mind that begged for more as if I held the answers of the universe. I'd pat his head and tell him stories. He would listen to me with the passionate attention of a rapt child. And if the story wasn't good enough, he'd tug at my ankles as if to get me to move on. When playful he'd roll onto his back, and I'd tickle his belly. His cute hindpaws twitched in the air as he pushed for me to stop, only to invite me to repeat the process a second later.

As I activated my turn signal, I noticed the round orange ball next to me. It bore the tell-tale scratches and punctures of powerful jaws and claws. Talami always enjoyed playing with it. I bought it especially because it was virtually indestructible. He bit, gnawed, and chewed, but was unable to destroy it no matter how much he tried. I think he liked the adventure in the strange round thing that never gave up. Naturally we had our moments when we didn't like each other too much. He didn't like when I cleaned his food basin, even if he seemed done. He scratched me badly once, and even then, the poor dear looked as if he'd committed the worst of all sins. I scolded him for using his claws, but somehow couldn't stay mad, even when the cleansing peroxide brought tears to my eyes.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Havern and Schaller Zoo and turned off the car. I knew the day would come when Talami would get too big for the house. He would require someplace that could better attend to his needs. It was hard for me to let him go then, but at least I'd been able to visit every weekend or so. The caretaker and I did internships together in college so I felt comfortable turning my lion over to him. Now, little Talami would be thousands of miles away with people I'd never met, being expected to carry on his bloodline like his wild counterparts. I was so rapt in thought that I had forgotten to get out of the car.

"Hello Caroline! It's good to see you!"

"Jim, I'm happy to see you too."

The man smiled, noticing the offensive orange sphere under my arm. "I see you brought his ball."

His observation made me flustered for a second. "Umm, yes, well—I thought he'd like to see it. You know, one last time?"

Jim looked at me and nodded. His eyes betrayed knowledge of my internal sadness, and I found my gaze traveling down. He was dressed professionally, but comfortably with long slacks and a long sleeved shirt. Under the orange-tinted night lamp, the shadow of his body stretched across the floor like an abstract arrow, pointing at the entrance door to Talami's enclosure.

"Shall we say hi?" Jim asked me in a soft voice.

I took a moment to respond. "Yes, yes of course."

"My, he's gotten so big," I murmured softly.

"Yes," Jim answered, "he's a fine lion."

Fine didn't begin to describe him. He was a beautiful creature, the likes of which plague my dreams to this very day. Talami was large and magnificent, a prime example of his species. His brownish gold fur gleamed in the pale moonlight and strong, powerful muscles outlined his frame. Talami had a powerful physique, a huge body with strong shoulders. His full mane blew gently in the night breeze, framing his regal face with a halo of tawny hues. And his face – I remembered those warm, familiar amber eyes and beautiful muzzle jutting out from it all. The way his teeth showed as he grimaced was the same as when he was a cub. Neat fur covered his features except for his cute nose; fluffy ears poking out from the forest of his mane. His tail, the yardstick of his emotions, extended to a fine length before finishing with a brushy tassel of dark fur. His four paws finally looked to scale. They were magnificent, great paws that couldn't match a hand's dexterity, but made up for it with beauty and efficiency. I could imagine the lethal claws protectively sheathed on the paw, accompanied by smooth black paw pads that told their own legacy with their cracks and lines. More wonderful fur filled in the rest of the paw, protruding in cute tufts that Talami would tease out with his teeth from time to time. The lion's chest gently rose and fell as he lay there, breathing with unaffected ease. His mane covered much of his chest, but gave way to the lighter colored underbelly fur, the same color his paws and muzzle were dipped in. He was undeniably cute, cute in that he still retained his cubhood charm and playfulness.

I swallowed to force my throat open again. "I hope he's been good to you all."

"He's been magnificent." Jim smiled at me, "I think it's because he had a good start in life."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. Inside, I was terribly honored. I felt like a mother who had her son complimented. I was very proud of Talami.

"Do you want to go in?"

"In?" I asked, the word momentarily losing its meaning.

"Yes," Jim said, "with him."

"Should I do that?" I asked in a gasp, suddenly uncertain.

Jim insisted. "Yes, I think you should."

Talami's pen made use of a double locking system that worked much like an airlock. It was the safest way to insure that the animal had no direct route out. When the final door opened, I stood there dumbly, facing a full grown lion with nothing more than a bright orange ball under one arm. Talami was in the process of grooming a paw when I first saw him. He stopped grooming himself after a second and looked at me, mouth closing in an expression of attentiveness. I could see his ears perked forward with curiosity, head cocked slightly to the side.

I felt my voice failing me. "Hello, Talami." I managed, trying to sound as I did when he was young. Then that lion – that magnificent creature – did something I will never forget. He rose from his spot and trotted over, ears flattened with anticipation and happiness. He gently pressed his massive head against my thigh and for a moment, almost thought I could hear him purr my name.

"Oh," I whispered in a quivering voice, "You remember, you remember…"

He responded with louder purrs, more leonine than I ever could have imagined, and a gentle series of coughs that told me he was just as happy to see me.

I slowly came to my knees to face the great creature and held his head tenderly. Normally, to look directly into the eyes of a cat is considered a challenge, but not tonight. Tonight, we shared a melding of minds and souls the likes of which no meager piece of writing will ever describe. I could see happiness in his soul, and hoped that he could see the happiness in mine. A light flickered from just outside my vision, but I couldn't bear to break the eye contact to look at it. Somehow, my baby knew that he wouldn't be seeing me much anymore, and I certainly knew I wouldn't be seeing my baby much either.

He made a soft puffing noise and then placed his great head aside mine. I couldn't hold back anymore and flung my arms around his neck, sobbing silently. I don't know how long we stayed that way. An eternity would not have been enough time for me. A gentle backward tug told me he was ready for me to let go, and once again, we stood looking at each other. When his gaze dropped to the ball under my arm, I sniffled and held it out.

"I brought this for you," I said.

He pawed the ball from my hands and followed it as it bounced around his enclosure. I watched him play, happy to see that it brought him such joy. His tail lashed around with agitated joy, as if he'd been thrust back into the body of a cub and given the treat of all treats. I was so caught up in the scene that I didn't see Jim motioning me out of the enclosure at first.

Understandably, I didn't want to leave.

"He'll have a good home up there." Jim said, handing me a tissue. "I've met the director of the program personally, and she's a fantastic woman. She'll take good care of Talami."

"I hope so," I sniffled, "because if she doesn't—"

"She will," Jim assured me, giving me a gentle pat on my back. "His departure time is a few hours from now. It's going to get real busy around here real soon."

"I know," I murmured. "I just – he means so much to me, you know."

"I know."

"He made my life a living hell, but I loved it. I love him. In so many ways, I'm his mother."

"He won't forget that, Caroline," Jim assured me, "ever."

I felt my eyes getting misty again. "Of course." I used the back of my arm to wipe tears from my eyes. "Well, I guess I'll head out. Thanks for letting me do this."

"Hey, I think you deserve it." Jim searched his pocket as I turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing—"

I looked over my shoulder. "Hmm?"

"I thought you might want these." He gave me a handful of Polaroid shots, taken no more than a few minutes ago. There I was, standing next to Talami—patting his head, scratching his ears, hugging his mane. New tears sprung to my eyes, but I fought them back.

"Thank you." I whispered, using a hand to cover my quivering mouth.

"Take care of yourself." Jim said, opening the door to my car. "Believe me, Tal will be fine."

"Right." I said as the door closed.

The drive home was long, but the pictures and the memories of Talami will forever remain in my heart. We shared something special, an unspoken agreement cemented in a language deeper than the symbology of words. I'll always be his mother, and he'll always be my special little lion.