Nooo. I can't do it anymore. Brats. I hate them! This is degrading. There has to be an easier way to make a living. But no-one wants to employ dinosaurs these days. Sob. They say we're obsolescent. They say it's a changing world. They say they have to replace us with mammals so that they can keep up with the competition. Snuffle. But what am I supposed to do? All my skills are out of date. Even my very body is outmoded. My enormous tail, once the envy of my pack, and a vital tool in my day to day life, is now basically just a convenient cord attached to my bottom for children to pull. Sob. My voice, carefully modulated to strike fear into the hearts of my prey, sounds "jolly" to human ears. Jolly! I thank the Sharp Toothed One that my mother never lived to see her only son labelled "jolly" and forced to hug children.