‘Sounds easy enough.’
He laughed. ‘We’ll see.’
Mr. Davis gave me enough leashes to hook to five dogs’ collars. The dogs were an interesting assortment of mutts including a beagle, a grey-hound mix, a bulldog, a Great Dane, and a little black poodle. The animals bounced around everywhere, getting the leashes all twisted around each other – and me. Mr. Davis leaned over to help and then we started off.
It was a beautiful morning. The woods were fragrant, and the dogs were very happy, jumping about and pulling me in every direction except the one I wanted to go. They kicked up rustling pine needles and leaves and exposed bare brown soil as they sniffed every square inch of the terrain.
As I unwound a dog from a tree I asked Mr. Davis, ‘Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your tiger?’
‘Not at all. Ask away.’
‘Matt said that you guys didn’t know much about the history of your tiger. Where did you get him from?’
Matt’s dad rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and said, ‘Dhiren came to us when Mr. Maurizio purchased it from another small circus. He wanted to liven up the acts. He figured that I worked well with other animals, so why not tigers. We were very na?ve. It usually requires extensive training to work with the big cats. Mr. Maurizio was insistent that I try and, fortunately for me, our tiger is very tractable.
‘I was extremely unprepared to take on an animal of that size though I stayed and traveled with the other circus for a while. Their trainer taught me how to handle a tiger, and I learned how to care for it. I’m not sure I could have dealt with any of the other cats they were selling.
‘They tried to get me interested in one of their very aggressive Siberians but I quickly realized that she wasn’t for us. I negotiated for the white cat instead. The white was more even tempered and seemed to like working with me. To tell you the truth, our tiger seems bored with me most of the time.’
I pondered this information as we silently walked down the trail for a while. Untangling the dogs from another tree, I asked, ‘Do white tigers come from India? I thought they came from Siberia.’
Mr. Davis smiled. ‘Many people think they’re from Russia because the white coat blends in with the snow, but Siberian tigers are larger and orange. Our cat is a Bengal or Indian tiger.’
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and asked, ‘Are you ready to help me with the tiger today? The cages have safety latches, and I will be supervising you at all times.’
I smiled, remembering the sweet scent of jasmine at the end of the tiger’s performance. One of the dogs ran around my legs, trapping me and breaking the reverie for a moment.
‘I would really enjoy that, thanks!’ I replied.
After finishing our walk, we put the dogs back in the kennel and fed them.
Mr. Davis filled the dogs’ trough with water from a green hose. He looked over his shoulder and said, ‘You know, tigers could be completely wiped out in the next ten years. India has already passed several laws against killing them. Poachers and villagers are mostly responsible. Tigers generally avoid humans, but they are responsible for many deaths in India every year and sometimes people take matters into their own hands.’
Then, Mr. Davis gestured that I should follow him. We walked around the corner of the building to a large barn that was painted white with blue trim. He opened the wide doors for us to enter.
The bright sun filtered in and warmed the area, spotlighting the dust particles that flew around as Mr. Davis and I walked past. I was surprised at how much light shone in the two-level building despite there being only two high windows. Wide beams rose high overhead and arched across the ceiling; the walls were lined with empty stalls that held bales of hay stacked up to the ceiling. I followed him as he approached the beautiful animal wagon that had been a part of the performance yesterday.
He picked up a large jug of liquid vitamins and said, ‘Kelsey, meet Dhiren. Come here, I want to show you something.’
We approached the cage. The tiger, who had been dozing, lifted its head and watched me curiously with bright blue eyes.
Those eyes. They were mesmerizing. They stared right into me, almost as if the tiger was examining my soul.
A wave of loneliness washed through me, but I struggled to lock it back into the tiny part of me where I kept such emotions. I swallowed thickly and broke eye contact.
Mr. Davis pulled a lever on the side of the cage. A panel slid down, separating the side of the cage near the door from Dhiren. Mr. Davis opened the cage door, filled the tiger’s water dish, added about a quarter-cup of liquid vitamin, and closed and locked the door. Then, he pushed the lever to raise the panel in the cage again.
‘I’m going to do some paperwork. I want you to get the tiger’s break-fast,’ Mr. Davis instructed. ‘Head back to the main building and go back behind the boxes. You’ll see a large refrigerator there. Take this red wagon with you to carry the meat from the fridge back here. Then take another package out of the freezer and put it into the fridge to thaw. When you return, put the food into Dhiren’s cage just like I did with the vitamins. Be sure to close the safety panel first. Can you manage that?’
I grabbed the wagon handle. ‘No problem,’ I said over my shoulder as I headed back to the door. I found the meat quickly and returned in a few minutes.
I hope that safety door holds, or I’ll be what’s served for breakfast, I thought as I pulled the lever, dished up the raw meat into a wide bowl, and slid it carefully into the cage. I kept a wary eye on the tiger, but it just sat there watching me.
‘Mr. Davis, is that a female or a male tiger?’
A noise came from the cage, a deep rumble from the tiger’s chest.
I turned to look at the tiger. ‘What are you growling at me for?’
Matt’s dad laughed. ‘Ah, you’ve offended him. He’s very sensitive, you know. In answer to your question, he is a male.’
‘Hmm.’
After the tiger ate, Mr. Davis suggested I watch the tiger practice his performance. We closed the barn doors and slid the wooden beam down to lock them in place just to make sure the tiger couldn’t escape. Then I scrambled up the ladder to the loft to watch from above. If anything went wrong, Mr. Davis had instructed me to climb out the window and return with Mr. Maurizio.
Matt’s father approached the cage, opened the door, and called Dhiren out. The cat looked at him and then put his head back on his paws, still sleepy. Mr. Davis called again. ‘Come!’
The tiger’s mouth opened in a giant yawn and his jaws gaped wide. I shuddered looking at the huge teeth. He stood up and stretched his front legs and then his back legs one at a time. I chuckled to myself for mentally comparing this large predator with a sleepy housecat. The tiger turned around and trotted down the ramp and out of the cage.
Mr. Davis set up a stool and cracked the whip, instructing Dhiren to jump up onto the stool. He got the hoop and had the tiger practice jumping in and out of it for several minutes. He leapt back and forth, running through the various activities with ease. His movements were effortless. I could see the sinewy muscles moving under his white and black striped fur as he went through the paces.