"Yeah, yeah, I totally know what a lion looks like, just give me the brush"
"Yeah, yeah, I totally know what a lion looks like, just give me the brush"
I tell her that everyday.
It’s part of what makes our bond so special.
It’s supposed to be, dude is pulling a thorn or something out of it’s paw.
One day toward evening, when he was seated with the brethren to hear the sacred lessons read, a lion suddenly limped into the monastery. The other monks fled at the sight of the beast, but Jerome greeted him as a guest. The lion showed him his wounded foot, and Jerome called the brothers and ordered them to wash the animal’s feet and to dress the wound carefully. When they set about doing this, they found that the paw had been scratched and torn by thorns. They did what was necessary, and the lion recovered, lost all his wildness, and lived among the monks like a house pet.
Maybe, originally it was a perfect rendition of a lion but a hundred years later, it got rubbed off and some old lady thought she’d fix it.
It’s happened before!
(And I always have to resist adding “qui est faba” to that name whenever I think about it.)
“You need to paint the King of Beasts.”
Paints a perpetually confused inbred.
“…I’m going to allow this.”