The Lion Cage

I am a lioness, living before the time of environmentally friendly zoos. Old, tired, and cranky, I sit on my side of the cage. I remember the days before I was captured into this caged-in existence. I enjoyed the hunt, the adventure, the exhiliration. But now, I am content in my passivity. Four walls lock me in. Escape is futile.
The two younger cubs are full of energy. They are too young to realize their lot in life. Once in a while they look outside the bars of the cage and claw to get out. This morning, however, they are quite happy expending all of their energy here. The toys that the zoomaster put in here with us might as well be invisible. Instead, they turn over the water dish, swipe at each other and laugh maniacly, in that way that lion cubs do.
I wish they would be sent to be in their own cage so that I could live out the rest of my existence in peace. Or maybe they could put the Daddy-lion in here with us. He could play with them, clean up the water and food, organize the lion-toys, and rub my four paws.
This is the Angry Housemom. Aka, The Lioness.