So, when I was seven, my family and I went to this tropical petting zoo. They had lemurs, flying squirrels, and a bunch of other things. One of the things they had was a liger petting exhibit. Now, for those of you who don’t know what a liger is, it’s pretty self-explanatory. It’s a lion and a tiger. They have a baby, and it’s called a liger. Now, I had pretty long hair, and they were like baby liger cubs, and so, I went in there and got all excited to pet one, and one of them was as chill as can be, like he was just lying there having the time of his life, sun bathing. I was petting him, right? The little monstrosity that is the sibling of this liger sees me playing with his brother, sees my long blonde hair waving around, gloriously in the wind and is like, “ mm, that looks quite delicious actually,” charges at me, jumps on my back, and knocks me over. It isn’t until ten seconds later that my parents and the people taking care of the liger cubs finally hear me screaming on the ground, thrashing around. They turn and see me on the ground with this liger biting at my hair, and the animal caretaker sees this and goes, “Oh my gosh,” runs over, and picks the liger up, and my parents run over and pick me up. I’m just like crying. I got scratches on my back. It was crazy. This caretaker is like holding them like a baby. The worker looks at us and says, “ Yeah, he’s still learning, he’s still really young.” I do not care about the age of this foul creature; he just attacked me. I’m going to be filing a lawsuit. I’m seven years old, but that was one of the most traumatic incidents of my life– well, that’s a lie, but it was crazy because apparently no one else has been attacked by a liger.