A year ago, as Granny Edith was coming back from the market, she heard a faint mewling from behind the bins. There, in a dirty cardboard box, lay a tiny kitten with golden eyes. She thought it was just an ordinary straythin, shivering, nearly frozen. Her heart ached with pity. She wrapped it in her scarf, held it close, and carried it home.
From that day, the little creature became her constant companion. Granny Edith gave it a sweet, homely nameWhiskers. The kitten ate hungrily and grew quickly. Its paws thickened, its fur darkened, and its gaze grew steadily heavier.
A few months later, Granny Edith watched in shock as Whiskers effortlessly shredded an old cushion with its claws. Thats when the terrible truth dawned on herthis was no kitten. It was a real lion.
But by then, she couldnt bear to part with it. The lion had become her friend, her comfort in loneliness. With no family left, Granny Edith poured all her love into the beast. She hid it from the neighbours, keeping the curtains drawn and rarely stepping outside.
Every penny she had went on meatjoints of beef and pork vanished so fast the butchers began whispering.
Granny Edith paid no mind. At night, “Whiskers” slept beside her, purring in its own deep, rumbling way, while she stroked its thickening mane like any doting cat owner would.
The neighbours noticed something odd. Heavy breathing echoed from her flat in the evenings, as if someone were shifting furniture or pacing on tiptoe. They joked, “What on earth is she keeping in there?” But then the jokes stoppedGranny Edith hadnt been seen in days.
Worried, Mrs. Wilkins from next door called the constable to check on her. When the door creaked open, the flat was eerily quiet. Then Mrs. Wilkins screamed.
There, curled under the warm lamplight, sat the lionhuge, golden, its muzzle stained dark. And in the bedroom, Granny Edith lay motionless in bed dead for days.
She had passed peacefully in her sleep, and at first, her beloved pet had simply lain beside her. But by the fourth day, hunger took over. Drops of red trailed from room to room.
The lion hadnt tried to escape when she died. It knew no life beyond those four wallsit had lived there since it was small.
Thats why they say a wild beast stays wild, no matter how long you tame it.
