Shasta the liger has a posse

I can’t believe all the attention that’s been showered on ligers lately. it’s really quite a milestone for them and for all hybrids, really. if only my favorite lion-tiger hybrid could have lived to see this day. Shasta was born nearly a half century ago this month, and lived through the better part of the cold war. she overcame all of the typical hardships that tend to afflict ligers: blindness, depression, growth dysplasia. anyone who grew up along the Wasatch front since then should not only think of Shasta as cheap soda pop but as our 1,000 lb unofficial community mascot- whether you saw her in the flesh or, like me, preserved in a gallant stance behind glass.

I don’t know about magic but it seems ligers are quite skillful at manipulating their zookeepers. mythical or not, the official story goes that they named her Shasta because they were always like, “she hasta have this” and “she hasta have that.” How do you like that? –preying on the selfless nature of zoology majors. but anyway, what suckers!

now it seems everyone’s got a liger. zoos all over, and they're increasingly required prerequisites for some of the better jobs in ringleadership. “no liger? forget it.” a real proliferation, I’m telling you. is this really good for us? how many ligers is enough? every one of them does deserve dignity, don’t get me wrong. but isn’t each individual a little diminished by the existence of so many? as if they didn’t have enough afflictions already. let’s remember, these aren’t sodas; they have feelings.