Last night while wrapping Christmas presents I watched a wild life documentary on TV about an unusual lioness in Africa. As a cub, she must have had imprinting issues with her parents because she adopted an orphaned antelope-type animal (I can’t remember its exact name but it looked like a miniature giraffe). The lioness was convinced she was its mother.

Kind of like Animal Channel’s version of PD Eastman’s book “Are You My Mother?”

It was really a charming story with beautiful footage. The lioness was very protective of her adopted baby. I watched absentmindedly, making a dent in my to-be-wrapped pile, looking forward to a happy ending for the lioness and her baby antelope.

Suddenly, a gigantic lion leapt out of the bush with a roar and dashed off with the baby antelope. The antelope whimpered for its mom as the lioness responded in great distress, watching from a cautious distance as the lion swaggered off, dangling its prey from its toothy mouth.

Why did I think there would be a moral ending for a wildlife show? Seems like another oxymoron.

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