It was a hot day on the wild plains of Africa. Camille sat on his veranda looking north towards the waterhole and watched the elephant take a drink. In the distance he saw a large cloud of dust. The swift animals were on the move again. Was it the lion hunting that was driving them or had the migration arrived early this year? He leant back and closed his eyes and thought fondly of his pet tortoises. It was probably time to get up and feed them but sitting here in the shade he was too comfortable to move just yet. Before long Camille was fast asleep dreaming of his world, the animal world; the lions that he loved so much and the kangeroos he hoped he would one day get the opportunity to see in the wilds of Australia. But his dreams were mainly filled with the beautiful lion he had helped save when it was just a cub and he was just a boy.
Camille was woken from his siesta by the rooster crowing in the west. Looking up the dust from the wild asses had settled. He looked at the plains and thought of his childhood split between England and Africa. He remembered playing deep in the woods of Kent surrounded by bluebells and hearing the first cuckoo of spring, raising his lion cub in Africa on his fathers farm and playing Eeyore in the school play. But most of all he thought of the lion cub he had raised and had resulted in him finally settling in Africa. Yes, this was the life, sitting on his veranda in the late afternoon sun, looking out on the beautiful world and watching the menagerie of animals that call it home.