Or *mis*heard….

“Hi, I’m Riders, I used to work here. B gave me the OK to go behind the fence and just say hi to the tigers.”
“Oh, okay. Uh…okay. Um, when you’re done just come back through the East Barn and make sure the gate’s latched.”
“So, okay, just have fun and be careful.”
“I’ll try :3”
“….w-wait, did you just say, ‘no promises?'”
“No…did I?”

No more Jaz

The good die young

Paid a visit to the sanctuary today. On the schadenfreude front, there has been 110% staff turnover since I left last year (AHAHAHAHAA), the excess domestic animals have been moved out of the intern house (DEO ME VINDICE), and all feeding of the big cats is done strictly in pairs (HAhaha….ouch.)

On the not so much, several of the cats have passed away. Willie and Stripey, at least, were quite old (both were hitting their 20s, which is about the limit for captive big cats and twice what they’d usually make in the wild), but it was a real shock to find that Jazzy had succumbed to renal failure and died early this year. Jazzy wasn’t even six years old, and she was everybody’s sweetheart. 

Picture taken approximately 30 seconds before she peed in her nice, clean, just-scrubbed pool

Willie, now…

“Willie was weird looking, no one cares about him.” “That’s what everybody says….”

A tiger’s just a cat….

…that knows it’s bigger than you are. Yes, domestic cats don’t really care that you’re bigger than them–but they are aware of the fact. Whereas a tiger is blissfully, additionally, aware that it has got teefs (wud u liek see? rrr)

Anyhow, Sharm was regarded as the second sweetest old gentleman on the sanctuary (his by-then deceased brother Jeeva had first place, with Harry-the-I’m-only-crazy-at-mealtimes in third. See if you can guess why. No, go on. Guess.

Aquatic Kitty

Farah liked playing with water. Including, usually, the hose trying to fill up her bucket.

If you’re also thinking she’s a bit skinny: she is. At the time of this picture, Farah was a 16-year-old tigress (for a species that lives 8-10 years in the wild and 15-20 in captivity), estimated to weigh about three hundred pounds, and was eating the same 12 pounds of raw meat we fed her 5 year old (so the prime of their tiger lives), 450-lb psychopath sons. Because, and I quote, “she a skinny bitch.” She was also on daily medication to protect her kidneys, glucosamine (also daily) and a tri-weekly multivitamin/probiotic combo that apparently tasted really nasty.

Do you know it’s kind of to hold a tiger’s nose and force pills down their throats?