The Aussie voice on the other end of the phone explained that it was calling from a Melbourne talk-radio station, and could I say a few words about Cecil the lion? After all, I was in Minnesota, home of the most hated dentist since Lawrence Olivier bent over Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. Surely the entire state was aflame with shame. A monster walked in our midst unbeknownst. His teeth were white but his heart was dark. How did we feel?
Eh. There were protests at the dentist’s office. Heaps of stuffed animals, the standard response in the West to anything the media deem tragic. If this trend had been around in November 1963, they would have had to use a backloader to remove all the plush teddies from Dealey Plaza. One sign said “#catlivesmatter,” thereby linking Cecil’s death to the contentious issue of police violence, and you almost expected someone to chant “Paws up, don’t shoot!”
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