The year was 1888. A young man, mid-to-late twenties, sits quietly in his study, looking through a stereoscope at various photos. He loved his job. He was a photographer who put the pictures together on the cards.
One picture in partucular caught his eye. It was his Lady-love, Elizabeth. Waist-longstrawberry-blonde hair with ringletts-a-go-go. Very tall and intoxicating to be around-the modern playboy type. Just one look and he knew Elizabeth was wild.
As the young man, Victor, looked at his wild thing, he adjusted his collar as hot tears broiled in his eyes. This one particular photograph would never be produced for the public. Our hero puts the picture into the stereoscope with his eyes squinted. In the picture, his love interest was part of an act for the Ringling Bros. Victor's wild thing was posing, standing straight, her arms open wide in a V stance with a wide confident smile.
Our hero sobs uncontrollably as the lion that stands behind his Lady-love, hungrally moves toward her.
Victor cries, because he would never see his wild thing again.