"That's a lion," I said, still staring down at the enormous creature like it might suddenly roar and confirm my theory.
"No, it's not," Kasteil replied, calm as ever, though the corners of his mouth twitched with barely contained amusement. "She's a dog. Look at all that fur—how could she be a lion?"
Right on cue, the not-lion was bent over her giant stainless-steel bowl, happily crunching through kibble with the kind of focused enthusiasm only a truly hungry animal could muster. The scratching at the door earlier suddenly clicked: she'd been impatient for breakfast. Kasteil fed her early most days, he explained casually, but it was almost noon now—just a few minutes shy of twelve. She'd waited longer than usual, and clearly she wasn't thrilled about it.
"Fur?" I echoed, incredulous. "That's a mane."
"Mane?" He actually laughed this time.
