Mothers Against Scruff Grabbing
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One night, hundreds of years ago, a mama lion had a dream - she was grabbing the scruff of one of her cubs' necks, because he was caught trying to sneak away to steal some of the carcass a pack of hyenas were eating. An eagle landed on her shoulder and said, "How would you feel if you had your neck scruff grabbed like that? If I ever see you do this again, I'm going to come down and poke your eyes out."
She awoke abruptly in a cold sweat. Grateful that it had only been a dream, she was nevertheless rattled. She vowed to stop grabbing her cubs' neck scruff.
At first, people ridiculed her and spoke about her behind her back. Whispering amongst themselves they said things like, "Is she crazy? Her cubs are going to trample all over her!" and "They'll die out there with no discipline!"
But over the next several months, the cultural tides began turning, largely spurred on by the outrage of some lions brutally clawing at and biting their cubs. Everyone agreed that that was an inappropriate and atrocious way to treat their young.
There were calls for more gentle treatment of innocent, young cubs.
In time, everyone began praising the revolutionary lioness. "She's so progressive and gentle!" they exclaimed.
When her cubs spat on her and shit wherever they wanted, no one noticed. They were too busy with their own shame for still grabbing the scruff of their cubs' necks.
Over time everyone began to say things like, "Damn our ancestors for grabbing the scruffs of our necks. Those barbarians!" They even tore down the statue of the great Sarafina, revered pioneer of their pride.
Everyone blamed the advent of cub entitlement and disrespect on many things, but definitely not on the lack of neck scruff grabbing. That had become a sacred cow above reproach. No one could even talk about it.
If you'd been a fly with the ability to travel from den to den, you'd have noticed that everyone was still occasionally grabbing scruffs. But it wasn't like in the old days, when it was used as an occasional corrective action or to ensure the safety and well-being of their young. Now it was more reactionary and filled with shame.
One day an old sage returned and, having walked through the open Savannah for 10 years, looked at the state of his pride, said "WTF!? You're ruining these cubs. You're teaching them that they can bite and scratch you, and thus the world, with impunity. They've become entitled and don't respect you because look," he said pointing to the untouched scruff of the neck of the nearest cub.
"But elder, The Studies!" they cried out in unison. "They show that scruff grabbing doesn't work at all! It will only teach them to fear us."
"Of course you shouldn't claw or bite your cubs! But we've always known that, for we've eaten many an abusive lion and lioness. But scruff grabbing!?
They should fear the consequences of biting another pride member or defecating on a fresh kill. They will have more than their scruff grabbed if they should bite someone of another pride, and lion families will continue dying at increasing rates if they keep shitting where you eat!"
"But look," they argued, "Our cubs are so gentle! There's less violence in prides across the world as a result of our No Scruff Grabbing Policies."
"No they aren't, and no there is not," he returned, "In my years walking the Savannah, I've seen that the young have merely learned to channel their innate aggression into even more harmful avenues. Now, instead of confronting something straight on, they merely whisper taunts and slurs at other lions, avoiding any reprimand whatsoever for using violence but hurting that lion in a more insidious and complete way.”
The Mothers Against Scruff Grabbing started to push even harder. "Don't even hiss at your young," they demanded. "In fact, don't even tell them what to do. If they want to shit on a fresh carcass, who are you to say they shouldn't? Find another carcass."
Taught to be gentle as lambs, the males turned their aggression inwards, becoming depressed. Young cubs found it increasingly difficult to cope with the harsh realities of the Savannah. After going a full day without a kill, they'd fall to the ground kicking and screaming, demanding that the Savannah provide for them. Things continued to spiral down from there.
"And that, Jasper, is the story of our ancestors," said Luna the house cat. Then she arched her back and went back to nibbling at the rubber mouse filled with catnip.
