“You’re not happy,” Sam says.
I lie. I don’t want to hurt him. I chose to live with him in suburbia. I’ll get used to it.
“I’ve an idea. Let’s go to the cat shelter. We’ll find you a wild moggy to tame.”
I picture Samba and Luna, prowling about the ring. I never forgot how dangerous they were, but I thought of them as my kitties.
“I don’t think it’s a cat-friendly neighborhood.”
What I mean is, a cat could never replace my lions.
For someone who couldn’t run away from the circus fast enough, I miss it too much.