Feed the Tiger

My name is Tatiana. I weigh 350 pounds. I warned them not to move me from Denver to San Francisco. I was really happy there. They didn't listen. They were more interested in my breeding instincts, hoping I'd mate with a 14-year old Tiger.

Well, I wasn't pleased with this arrangement and practiced polite behavior behind bars for a year. This is easy for me coming from Siberia where you learn the art of stealth and cunning.

Face it folks, I am at the top of the food chain and the fortified horse meat garbage they give us here is worthless.

I don't know who's responsible for my being here and I don't care. All I know is that being in captivity for the pleasure of stupid humans is a fate worse than dying in Siberia. There, at least I have a chance. Here, I'm just another cute animal lying around dreaming of my freedom.

As you may have heard, yesterday I seized, if you'll pardon the pun, my slim chance when the lady who feeds me made a crucial mistake. She opened the metal feeding slot to put the horsemeat into my cage. A kid asked her a question. She hesitated. ZAP! I grabbed her arm.

Her screams were music to my ears. My eyes narrowed.

I heard she may lose it but hey, life is a beautiful struggle for survival. Given more space it would've been the jugular. Quick and silent.

You take what you can get at feeding time. Instinct is beautiful.

Peace.