Humans are so ...
I am, as everyone who knows me is aware of, a really modest lion. I don't complain often; my demands are always moderate and I'm patient with those who are in need of it - like, for example, my human.
Don't get me wrong: I don't want to complain about him. He is indeed a rather well bred example of the species homo sapiens. He's intelligent, he's very good at petting me, he's hard-working, well-mannered and able to learn. No, I really can't complain about him. Just the opposite; he tries hard, and in the six years we've been together I've taught him a lot.
There is only one thing he doesn't get right: Time management. Take yesterday as an example: He fed me and the rest of the lions in the morning, as it should be. (Point for him. He knows that a lion with a full belly doesn't like to move. If he wants to see some "action" during the show, he must let us have time to digest first.)
But back to yesterday: My breakfast was, as always, delicious, even if it wasn't enough. Afterwards I did what every clever lion should do after feeding: I took a little nap, before joining my mates in a round of roaring - you know, we always try to please our visitors, hence we often roar a bit to give them the right "jungle feeling". Then I did a bit of people- and landscape watching - one of the advantages of being a circus lion. One shouldn't have to look at the same, boring sight every day, and we get a change of scenery and something new every week. Last week I had a parking space to watch over, this week I'm close to the arena and can see everything and everyone who's going in and out of there - like, for example, the horses doing the liberty performance. Well, the palominos are looking rather tough to chew - they're all older gentlemen. Yet the Arabs! Young and crisp - really delicious! The sight of them always makes my mouth water.
Punctually at half past three in the afternoon, the show started. Of course I knew that! I wouldn't even need the music from the chapiteau to know when it's time for the show. My sense of timing is well developed, and I've been in the circus business for six years. Besides, I see what's going on in preparation for the show - like the hands bringing the Tonga vehicle around. (Suiting my royal status, I don't walk to work, but allow myself to be driven in a little car, especially made for me.)
Just as the car was coming around in front of my enclosure, I started to become upset with my human once again. He does know that I dislike waiting. I mean, I have to prepare mentally for my performance, and I like to do this best in the quiet and solitude of the Tonga vehicle (the allegation I'd nap in there I must decline with vehemence! I only close my eyes for better concentration).
My human was showing himself to be,once again, rather badly organized. He changed his clothes, he did his make-up and whatever else he does in preparation for our show. In the meantime, I stalked nervously through my enclosure, waiting for him and wondering what I have to do to convince him that my preparations are even more important than his. I mean, I'm the star of the show while he's only my human! And who watches him when I'm there?
Well, at last everything went according to the schedule, as he finally arrived. He got the chicken I always get after the show and deposited it behind the arena (I mean, it would be a great inconvenience if he made me wait for it until I'm back in my enclosure. I've taught him that treats are always to be served directly after I've done what he thinks I should do) and then, while the three drivers who are to move the Tonga vehicle close to the arena were already waiting, he brushed my mane. I could finally enter my car.
It really was high time! The horses were already standing in front of the entrance - and their performance is scheduled one half hour before mine. Yet I need at least a half hour to get myself in the right mindset for the show. (It's only fitting, for my act is the most important one of the show!)
Directly before me - just after the intermission - my brown colleague Kassanga and the 12 lion girls, among them my ladies Princess and Diamond, perform their act. Then the arena is cleared up and prepared for me to present myself in all of my white beauty.
My human and I in the show
Admittedly, I don't feel obliged to demonstrate any kind of "action" during the show. Action is for lion girls - and ours are pretty good at it. They jump up at the walls of the cage (great effect for the audience, but honestly, I'd find such exercises too tiresome. Additionally they could damage my hairdo), they sit up, they roll, they play with Martin's stick, they growl and they attack Martin a bit (don't you worry - they aren't serious about that. They only want to play).
I simply pose on my glittering disco globe - dignified and suiting because it shows that I'm always on top of the world. While sitting there, I allow myself to be cuddled by my human, I show my teeth, and then I walk away slowly and with all the grace I can muster (which is, as you will certainly admit, a lot) towards the chicken which is already waiting for me.
However, if you think now that I can't do more than sit beautifully on a globe, you're dead wrong. I'm definitely able to jump, to roll and to sit up. If I feel like it in my play hour (the time my human calls "training") with Martin , I do all of these and even more. But please, who am I that I would undergo such straining exercises twice a day in the arena? As I've said before: Such tasks are for girls. As far as I'm concerned, I'm always aware of my dignity and how to preserve it.
Admittedly, in the beginnings of our time together my human and I had a few debates about that. He really thought he could persuade me to do tricks in the arena. To convince me to do so, he tried everything: Persuading, cuddling, chicken. However, I do have my principles, and so I made it clear to him that I have my own ideas about a suitable King Tonga performance.
Luckily he's learned it - at least as far as our work in the arena is concerned. Yet I still must work on him coming punctually to brush me and to get me into the Tonga vehicle. But that's how it is with humans: One must train them daily to keep them fit.
I could tell you a lot more, but unfortunately my time is running short. I must prepare for the next show. So good bye - until next time, when we'll meet here once again.
My favourite pasttime between two shows: Napping
Don't get me wrong: I don't want to complain about him. He is indeed a rather well bred example of the species homo sapiens. He's intelligent, he's very good at petting me, he's hard-working, well-mannered and able to learn. No, I really can't complain about him. Just the opposite; he tries hard, and in the six years we've been together I've taught him a lot.
There is only one thing he doesn't get right: Time management. Take yesterday as an example: He fed me and the rest of the lions in the morning, as it should be. (Point for him. He knows that a lion with a full belly doesn't like to move. If he wants to see some "action" during the show, he must let us have time to digest first.)
But back to yesterday: My breakfast was, as always, delicious, even if it wasn't enough. Afterwards I did what every clever lion should do after feeding: I took a little nap, before joining my mates in a round of roaring - you know, we always try to please our visitors, hence we often roar a bit to give them the right "jungle feeling". Then I did a bit of people- and landscape watching - one of the advantages of being a circus lion. One shouldn't have to look at the same, boring sight every day, and we get a change of scenery and something new every week. Last week I had a parking space to watch over, this week I'm close to the arena and can see everything and everyone who's going in and out of there - like, for example, the horses doing the liberty performance. Well, the palominos are looking rather tough to chew - they're all older gentlemen. Yet the Arabs! Young and crisp - really delicious! The sight of them always makes my mouth water.
Punctually at half past three in the afternoon, the show started. Of course I knew that! I wouldn't even need the music from the chapiteau to know when it's time for the show. My sense of timing is well developed, and I've been in the circus business for six years. Besides, I see what's going on in preparation for the show - like the hands bringing the Tonga vehicle around. (Suiting my royal status, I don't walk to work, but allow myself to be driven in a little car, especially made for me.)
Just as the car was coming around in front of my enclosure, I started to become upset with my human once again. He does know that I dislike waiting. I mean, I have to prepare mentally for my performance, and I like to do this best in the quiet and solitude of the Tonga vehicle (the allegation I'd nap in there I must decline with vehemence! I only close my eyes for better concentration).
My human was showing himself to be,once again, rather badly organized. He changed his clothes, he did his make-up and whatever else he does in preparation for our show. In the meantime, I stalked nervously through my enclosure, waiting for him and wondering what I have to do to convince him that my preparations are even more important than his. I mean, I'm the star of the show while he's only my human! And who watches him when I'm there?
Well, at last everything went according to the schedule, as he finally arrived. He got the chicken I always get after the show and deposited it behind the arena (I mean, it would be a great inconvenience if he made me wait for it until I'm back in my enclosure. I've taught him that treats are always to be served directly after I've done what he thinks I should do) and then, while the three drivers who are to move the Tonga vehicle close to the arena were already waiting, he brushed my mane. I could finally enter my car.
It really was high time! The horses were already standing in front of the entrance - and their performance is scheduled one half hour before mine. Yet I need at least a half hour to get myself in the right mindset for the show. (It's only fitting, for my act is the most important one of the show!)
Directly before me - just after the intermission - my brown colleague Kassanga and the 12 lion girls, among them my ladies Princess and Diamond, perform their act. Then the arena is cleared up and prepared for me to present myself in all of my white beauty.
My human and I in the show
Admittedly, I don't feel obliged to demonstrate any kind of "action" during the show. Action is for lion girls - and ours are pretty good at it. They jump up at the walls of the cage (great effect for the audience, but honestly, I'd find such exercises too tiresome. Additionally they could damage my hairdo), they sit up, they roll, they play with Martin's stick, they growl and they attack Martin a bit (don't you worry - they aren't serious about that. They only want to play).
I simply pose on my glittering disco globe - dignified and suiting because it shows that I'm always on top of the world. While sitting there, I allow myself to be cuddled by my human, I show my teeth, and then I walk away slowly and with all the grace I can muster (which is, as you will certainly admit, a lot) towards the chicken which is already waiting for me.
However, if you think now that I can't do more than sit beautifully on a globe, you're dead wrong. I'm definitely able to jump, to roll and to sit up. If I feel like it in my play hour (the time my human calls "training") with Martin , I do all of these and even more. But please, who am I that I would undergo such straining exercises twice a day in the arena? As I've said before: Such tasks are for girls. As far as I'm concerned, I'm always aware of my dignity and how to preserve it.
Admittedly, in the beginnings of our time together my human and I had a few debates about that. He really thought he could persuade me to do tricks in the arena. To convince me to do so, he tried everything: Persuading, cuddling, chicken. However, I do have my principles, and so I made it clear to him that I have my own ideas about a suitable King Tonga performance.
Luckily he's learned it - at least as far as our work in the arena is concerned. Yet I still must work on him coming punctually to brush me and to get me into the Tonga vehicle. But that's how it is with humans: One must train them daily to keep them fit.
I could tell you a lot more, but unfortunately my time is running short. I must prepare for the next show. So good bye - until next time, when we'll meet here once again.
My favourite pasttime between two shows: Napping