Page 11 of Tiger's Curse

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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.

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