Julia wrote this sad story about a lion named Cleopatra. It’s a tragedy, so if, unlike me, you don’t like tragedies, don’t read it. She named all the lions after weird historical people. Here it is.   I ran and made a flying leap onto the giraffe’s back, narrowly missing one of its bone shattering and lethal kicks. My claws dug into its thick and leathery skin as I struggled to hold on and slowly clambered up its back. When I reached its neck, I bit down hard. Far below me, my pride wove between the giraffe’s legs and attacked them. They gave out underneath it and the mountain of…