One time when I was 11 we were given a tour of our city’s zoo by two ladies, who were retired zookeepers. They showed us around the zoo’s museum, and told us that the tiger pelt hanging on the wall belonged to their favourite animal, who they’d both looked after.
I put up my hand and asked why they’d skinned it and nailed it to a wall if they loved it so much. They both got really fucking mad, but I stand by what I said.
I imagine the tiger died and they preserved the pelt for the memories. You asking that the way they did assumes they killed it for its pelt, which understandably offended them.
One time when I was 11 we were given a tour of our city’s zoo by two ladies, who were retired zookeepers. They showed us around the zoo’s museum, and told us that the tiger pelt hanging on the wall belonged to their favourite animal, who they’d both looked after.
I put up my hand and asked why they’d skinned it and nailed it to a wall if they loved it so much. They both got really fucking mad, but I stand by what I said.
I imagine the tiger died and they preserved the pelt for the memories. You asking that the way they did assumes they killed it for its pelt, which understandably offended them.