My lion

Admittedly, I was a rotten child. I liked to spend my time throwing rocks at stray dogs. No one ever bothered to stop me until the old voice in the alley.

“Why are you throwing rocks at puppies?” It was an old man voice, deep and gravelly, so I didn’t stop.

“Because I want to, old man,” I retorted and tried to sound mean. There was no warning before I heard a yelp and felt dirt under my shoulders. I tumbled over and realized the yelp had come from me. I lay on the ground and listened to my heart beat. That old man had pushed me down, and now he would pay. “You asked for it!” I yelled and grabbed the first rock I laid hands on, then jumped up to face him.

At first I could only see stars. Then I saw the lion. He was sitting like a giant cat, and his tail twitched around behind him.

“Don’t eat me!” I yelled on instinct and dropped my rock. He licked his lips.

“Why not?” I heard the old man voice ask. Was this a trick? I looked around but there wasn’t an old man in sight.

“Because I don’t taste good?” At this he smiled, a strange lion smile that kept his teeth hidden.

“That is the truth,” he said. “You are rotten. But I can fix that.” He stood up and blinked, his face serious again. “Follow me. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.” I didn’t really have anything better to do. And a talking lion sounded like fun. So I followed him out of the alley.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Axel,” he said. I laughed. He stopped.

“Axel is a funny name for a lion,” I stammered. I still thought he would eat me.

“Nathanial is a funny name for a boy.” He said it firmly, and I felt bad. I had always liked my name, until now. Now I felt embarrassed by it. I didn't think it was strange that he knew my name. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “Good. Next time be considerate of the feelings of others.” It was the first lesson he taught me. He would teach it to me a lot, through the years.



I tried to be good with Axel around. I knew if I acted up I’d feel the business end of that paw. It was smothering, at first, but then I got over it. Anything that was too fun to hide from him wasn’t actually fun at all. And Axel knew some great games. He was nice to have around.

My favorite was when we walked through town together. I was nervous, the first time. Who walks with a lion? No one I’d ever seen.

“Can they see you?” I asked him.

“They know I am here,” he rumbled. He was usually fun, but sometimes he was so sad, especially when he talked about other people.



When spring came we spent long hours outside together, admiring nature in the glowing yellow sun. Axel stretched in the grass and rolled around. I rolled around beside him. Then he settled on his side and I climbed over his big paws and rested between them.

“Where did you come from, Axel?” I asked.

“I’ve always been around,” he purred. When he purred it sounded like thunder rumbling in his chest. His eyes were half-closed and he smiled his strange lion smile.

“Well why did you come find me?” I was watching the dandelions and didn’t see him stare at me with one opened eye. If I had, I would have ducked. Instead I groaned to feel his tongue rake across my cheek and up the side of my head.

“You need me,” he said. This time I caught the look in his yellow eyes and tried to scramble away. He pinned me between his paws and groomed my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “You’re filthy.”

I never liked being groomed, but I always felt refreshed and relaxed when he was done. He called it refining. Now he was lying on his back with his front paws folded up. I sat with my shoulders against his ribs. The afternoon sun made us drowsy.

“Will it always be like this?” Sometimes I asked too many questions. Usually he didn’t mind, but sometimes he wouldn’t answer.

“No,” he said after a long time. “This is easy. Good times are easy.” I asked when things would be bad, and how hard the hard times were. Axel pretended to be asleep.



We cycled through the seasons a few times, but spring was always our favorite. I loved watching Axel nap in the sun. I felt older, but Axel looked the same. He was timeless. He knew I was older, too, because he expected more from me.

“Help that lady with her groceries,” he’d say when we walked through town. “Give a dollar to that boy. Smile at the old man.” When they were easy things they were easy to do. When they were difficult, or embarrassing, I dug in my heels and fought him.

“Stand up for that girl,” he said after school. It was cold, and raining. She was dressed in black and surrounded by boys. They threw her books into the rain. She cried.

“No way, Axel.” I wasn’t getting into that.

“Stand up for that girl,” he said again and head butted me. I lurched forward then took a step back. He pressed against me with his head and pushed. I felt a surge of anger and empathy as my feet slid along the sidewalk. Then I went forward on my own.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted and the group scattered. Punk kids. Axel stood beside the girl while she cried. I knelt in the rain and picked up her books. “I’m sorry,” I said and gave her the books.

“Thanks,” she muttered and ran to her bus. I was already on my way back to my car. Axel was still watching her.

“That was a bust,” I said when we were back in my room.

“It will be worth it,” he said and licked water from his paw. I’m pretty sure he smirked.



That was the day I became aware women existed. I’d seen them before, but they were just like normal people. Now they were everywhere, and they were pretty. More than pretty, they were exotic and intoxicating.

“Look at that one,” I breathed. It was spring, again, and we were walking through town. The day was warm and her shoulders were bare.

“Never mind her,” Axel warned. He put himself between us, but I climbed over him. I had to have her. “You will regret it,” he said. His usually close voice was far away.



I lived in a fog and followed her like a puppy. Axel followed me around, but he never said much. Maybe I couldn’t hear him. We went the whole spring without lying in the grass and watching nature in the yellow sun. I missed him.



I don’t know how much time passed, but I felt much older. It was cold and raining again. And I was unhappy. That girl was still around but I wasn’t in love. And I was lonely. I went home and fell on the bed. I felt like my heart was breaking. She was finally gone, and I cried. Crying felt good. Refining.

“Was it worth it?” I recognized the old man voice, but I hadn’t heard it in a long time.

“Axel?” He was under the bed, right where I’d left him. He looked the same, but his yellow eyes were so sad. They stabbed my heart.

“Was she worth everything you missed?” He knew she wasn’t and stood quietly while I knotted his mane in my fists and cried.



It wasn’t warm but I could feel spring in the air when we sat in the sun in the back of my truck. Axel said I wrecked my car, but I didn’t remember. His paws dangled from the tailgate and his twitching tail rustled the leaves that piled in the bed.

“Was that a hard time?” I asked. I didn’t have to specify. He knew what I was talking about. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to sniff the cool breeze.

“No,” he said. “It was not a good time, but it was not hard.” I nodded and was going to ask what a hard time was, but Axel was pretending to sleep.

We spent that spring rolling in the grass, when I wasn’t busy. Axel followed me to classes and rumble-purred under my desk. I’d missed him a lot.



The summer was a real scorcher. There were lots of fires, and lots of people died. There was rain in the forecast the day my house burned. My family was devastated, but safe.

“This is not so easy,” Axel said. We were sifting through the ashes to find anything salvageable. “But it is not hard.” I tried to ask about hard times before he could pretend to sleep, but he dug up a photo album and wandered away.



It was late autumn of the next year, after the last of the golden sun, when I learned what hard was. Axel was sitting beside me when I learned my mom was gone. They told me why, but it didn’t matter.

“Yes, this is hard,” he said when I looked at him, and he ran his tongue up the side of my face. I knotted my hands in his mane and forgot about time. Axel sat beside me for the next days and weeks. Then he decided I was done.

“Come on,” he said and nudged me with his nose. “Let’s go.” I snorted and sniffled a question. “Out,” was his answer. When I didn’t move he took my shirt collar in his teeth and dragged me outside. I was surprised to find springtime. We stretched and rolled in the grass. Sometimes I cried, and sometimes he let me. It felt like days that we dozed in the warm sun. He washed the tears from my face, and I felt refreshed.

“Let’s go to town,” I finally said.

“I thought you’d never ask.”



It was warm and I was surrounded by a sea of bare shoulders. But two stood out. Axel was pushing me forward before I could stop him.

“Whoa! Wait! Who is she?” He only smiled his strange lion smile. I watched her, and I was surprised to see she had her own lion. Actually, it was a lioness. A fierce lioness who bared her fangs and snarled at the men who came too close. I was dumbfounded. I’d never seen another lion. “Axel, who is she?” I asked again.

“Grace,” he said.

“And her lion?”

“Alice,” he purred.



Alice never snarled at me. She sat beside Grace and nuzzled Axel’s cheek.

“You aren’t dressed in black anymore,” I wondered aloud. Grace laughed, and it sounded like angels dancing on glass.

“No, and I have you to thank for that,” she said. I scratched Axel behind his ears.



We spent the next several springs lying in the grass in the glowing yellow sun. All four of us. Then one day, we were five.

We named her Abigail. Alice kept a steady watch over her and Axel batted her tiny hands with his massive paws.

“So this is easy, then?” I asked him. It was a good time, and good times were easy. That's what I'd learned, right? I had never heard Axel laugh before. He laughed so loudly that all nature laughed with him.

“These are good times,” he said and batted at me too. “But this is not easy. It’s hard.” He was speaking solemnly, but he winked. We both watched Grace and Abigail and Alice blowing the dandelions and scattering the tiny white tufts in a thousand directions. “But I told you it would be worth it."

I think I understood.