‘Hey, Ren. What’s going on with you today, Mister? I’m worried about you. I hope you aren’t getting sick or something.’
He rested quietly, but kept his eyes on me and followed my move-ments. I approached the cage slowly. I felt drawn to the animal and couldn’t seem to block out a very strong, dangerous compulsion. It was almost a tangible pull. Maybe it was because I felt we were both lonely or maybe it was because he was such a beautiful creature. I don’t know the reason, but I wanted – I needed – to touch him.
I knew it was risky, but I wasn’t scared. Somehow, I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me, so I ignored the red-alert bells dinging in my head. My heart began beating very fast. I took another step closer to the cage and stood there for a moment, shaking. Ren wasn’t moving at all. He just continued to look at me calmly with his vivid blue eyes.
I slowly reached my hand out toward the cage, stretching just my fingertips to his paw. I made contact and touched his soft, white fur with the tips of my fingers. He exhaled a deep sigh, but other than that he didn’t move. Feeling braver, I placed my whole hand on top of his paw, petted it, and traced one of his stripes with my finger. The next thing I knew, his head moved toward my hand. Before I could pull my hand out of the cage, he licked it. It tickled.
I withdrew my hand quickly. ‘Ren! You scared me! I thought you were going to bite off my fingers!’ I tentatively held out my hand near the cage again, and his pink tongue darted out between the bars to lick my hand. I let him lick a few more times, and then headed over to the sink and washed the tiger saliva off.
Returning to my favorite spot by the hay bale, I said, ‘Thanks for not eating me.’
He huffed quietly in response.
‘What would you like to read today? How about that cat poem I promised you?’
I sat down, opened my poetry book, and found the right page. ‘Okay, here goes.’
I AM THE CAT
by Leila Usher
In Egypt, they worshiped me
I am the Cat.
Because I bend not to the will of man
They call me a mystery.
When I catch and play with a mouse,
They call me cruel,
Yet they take animals to keep
In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.
They think all animals are made for their pleasure,
To be their slaves.
And, while I kill only for my needs,
They kill for pleasure, power and gold,
And then pretend to a superiority!
Why should I love them?
I, the Cat, whose ancestors
Proudly trod the jungle,
Not one ever tamed by man.
Ah, do they know
That the same immortal hand
That gave them breath, gave breath to me? But I alone am free
I am THE CAT.
I closed my book and gazed reflectively at the tiger. I imagined him proud and noble, racing through the jungle on a hunt. I suddenly felt very, very sorry about his situation. It can’t be a good life, performing in a circus, even if you have a good trainer. A tiger isn’t a dog or a cat to be somebody’s pet. He should be free in the wild.
I stood up and walked back over to the tiger. Hesitantly, I reached my hand into his cage to pat his paw again. Immediately, his tongue flew out to lick my hand. I laughed at first and then sobered. Slowly, I moved my hand up to his cheek and stroked the soft fur. Then, feeling brave, I scratched him behind his ear. A deep vibration rumbled in his throat, and I realized he was purring. I grinned and scratched his ear some more.
‘Like that, do you?’
I pulled my hand out of the cage, slowly again, and watched him for a minute, deliberating on what had happened. He had an almost human expression of melancholy on his face. If tigers have souls, and I believe they do, I imagine his to be a lonely and sad one.
I looked into those big blue eyes and whispered, ‘I wish you were free.’
4
The Stranger
Two days later, I found a tall, distinguished man dressed in an expensive black suit standing next to Ren’s cage. His thick, white hair was cut short, and he had a closely trimmed beard and mustache. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, and he had a long, aquiline nose and an olive complexion. The man was alone, talking softly, and definitely looked like he did not belong in a barn.
‘Hello? Can I help you?’ I queried.
The man whipped around quickly, smiled at me, and replied, ‘Hello! You must be Miss Kelsey. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anik Kadam. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ He pressed his hands together and bowed.
And I thought chivalry was dead.
‘Yes, I’m Kelsey. Is there something I can do for you?’
‘Perhaps there is something you can do for me.’ He smiled warmly and explained, ‘I would like to speak to the owner of your circus about this magnificent animal.’
Confused, I replied, ‘Sure, Mr. Maurizio is in the back of the main building in the black motor home. Do you want me to take you there?’
‘No need to trouble yourself, my dear. But, thank you kindly for the offer. I will go and see him immediately.’
Turning, Mr. Kadam left the barn, quietly shutting the door behind him.
After checking Ren to make sure he was okay, I said, ‘Now that was strange. I wonder what he wanted. Maybe he has a thing for tigers.’ I hesitated for a moment, and then reached my hand through the cage bars. Amazed at my own boldness, I stroked his paw briefly and then began to get his breakfast ready.
Speaking over my shoulder, I said, ‘It’s not every day a person sees a tiger as handsome as you are, you know. He probably just wants to compliment you on your performance.’
Ren huffed in response.
I decided to grab a bite to eat myself and headed toward the main building – only to discover a flurry of unusual activity. People were gathered together, gossiping in small, scattered groups. I snatched a chocolate chip muffin and a bottle of cold milk and cornered Matt.
‘What’s going on?’ I mumbled around a big bite of my muffin.
‘I’m not exactly sure. My dad, Mr. Maurizio, and another man are in a serious meeting, and we were told to put a hold on our daily activities. We were instructed to wait here. We’re all wondering what’s going on.’
‘Hmm.’ I sat and ate my muffin, listening to the wild theories and speculations of the troupe.
We didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Mr. Maurizio, Mr. Davis, and Mr. Kadam, the stranger I’d met earlier, walked into the building.
‘Sedersi, my friends. Sit. Sit!’ Mr. Maurizio said with a beaming smile. ‘This man, Mr. Kadam, has made me the most happy of men. He has made an offer to purchase our belov’d tigre, Dhiren.’
There was an audible gasp in the room as several people jostled in their seats and softly whispered to one another.
Mr. Maurizio continued, ‘Now, now . . . fate silenzio. Shh, amici miei. Let me finish! He wishes to take our tigre back to India to the Ranthambore National Park, the great tigre reserve. Mr. Kadam’s denaro will provide for our troupe for two years! Mr. Davis is in d’accordo with me and also feels that the tiger will be assuredly happier there.’
I glanced at Mr. Davis, who solemnly nodded.
‘It’s agreed we will finish the shows for this week, and then the tigre will go with Mr. Kadam con l’aereo, by airplane, to India, while we will move on to our next city. Dhiren will stay with us this last week until we make the grandioso finale next Saturday!’ the ringleader con-cluded and thumped Mr. Kadam on the back.
The two men turned and disappeared out of the building.
All at once, the hushed crowd started moving around quickly and began talking with each other. Silently, I watched them as they darted back and forth among the different groups like a flock of chickens at feeding time, scuttling in and out of the crowd and pecking for tidbits of information and gossip. They spoke in excited tones and patted each other’s backs, murmuring animated congratulations that their next two years on the road were already paid for.