Animalia

June 9, 2017

Crocodile tears. Somehow I learned the expression incorrectly. Knowing this, I still think my understanding of the expression is the correct one. When I hear "crocodile tears," I think of someone who cries harder and more bitterly than the average crier. The tears have to pass through thick layers of tough reptilian skin and therefore require excessive sorrow. This makes a lot more sense to me than insincere grief. The problem is, even though I know my understanding of the expression is wrong, I cannot shake it. I can't un-learn it.


Although I am terrified of being eaten alive, I find large predators fascinating. There's something so sophisticated going on there.

 

I envy the male lion. Catnap all day. Feast on the beast the lionesses killed for you. Look pretty.

 

Did anyone else get really upset when they found out that killer whales hunt penguins and seals? I did. Shamu and Free Willy had me fooled. Somehow the word "killer" didn't strike me as sinister. It's not that I think captive animals should be circus performers. The world, more specifically Sea World, has learned it's lesson about that. It's just the heartbreaking image of this seemingly friendly, panda-colored sea creature murdering an innocent little seal pup. That upsets me.

 

Does anyone sympathize with fish? I don't. I was a little sad when my betas died, but I got over it almost immediately. Even after Finding Nemo, I don't find myself cringing at the sight of a shark ripping a fish in half.

 

I'm jealous of characters who have the ability to talk to animals. How I wish I could do that. I think we can understand each other quite a bit through body language, but compared to conversing with humans, it's so minimal. And sometimes the message, particularly "I come in peace," takes a long time to convey.

 

Does my dog laugh? I hope so.

 

 

 

 

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