And this morning, when the fire alarm malfunctioned and the lock broke, Atlas simply pushed the door and walked out to freedom. He didn’t want to run away or attack; he just wanted to find the woman whose scent and voice he had recognized yesterday. Lions have a phenomenal memory, and Atlas remembered the scent of the one who saved his life when he was helpless. I sat listening to this incredible story, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions.
A whole crowd had already gathered around us: police officers, our guards, veterinarians, and just random passersby with phones. Atlas still lay with his head on Margarita’s lap, and she was stroking him as if he were a big house cat.
I understood that the situation needed to be resolved somehow, as it was impossible to keep a predator in a city park. But I also understood that if we tried to separate them by force, Atlas might show aggression.
I called the zoo director and recounted this amazing story in detail, in vivid color. The director was skeptical at first and started talking about strict safety protocols. But I insisted, explaining the uniqueness of the situation. After long negotiations, he agreed to a reasonable compromise.
Margarita would receive a permanent honorary pass, allowing her to come to the zoo at any time for free. A special comfortable chair would be installed for her right next to Atlas’s enclosure fence. When I delivered this news to Margarita, she burst into tears of happiness. She leaned down to Atlas, pressed her forehead against his head, and whispered something, and he closed his eyes and purred quietly.
Then she stood up, and Atlas obediently walked beside her back towards the zoo. The whole procession looked surreal: an elderly woman in a simple sundress, a huge lion next to her, and security guards all around. Margarita came to the zoo the very next morning, as soon as the gates opened. She brought with her an old, worn-out photo album where little Atlas was captured.
Here he is sleeping, curled up in a ball on a blanket in her apartment; here he is trying to catch a toy. Here he is taking his first steps on three paws; here he is sitting in Margarita’s arms, looking at the camera with huge eyes. She showed me these pictures, and I could hardly believe that this little ball of fur had turned into such a majestic beast. Margarita sat down in the chair prepared for her, and Atlas immediately approached the glass.
He lay down on the other side, as close to her as possible, and they just sat there, looking at each other. From that day on, Margarita came every day, regardless of the weather, spending two to three hours by the enclosure. She would bring a book and read aloud, tell Atlas about her life, about the Carpathian reserves. Atlas would always come to her, lie down by the glass, and listen intently.
His amber eyes followed the movement of her lips, and sometimes he would purr softly in response. Zoo visitors quickly learned about this story, and many came specifically to watch their meetings. Some filmed videos that garnered millions of views in the Ukrainian segment of social media. Journalists asked for interviews, but Margarita politely declined, avoiding publicity…
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