I wear a gold crown of thorns on my right index finger. I wear it to remind me of the deep spirituality that comes with conscious living. I also love being barefoot in nature; it keeps me grounded broadening and solidifying the spiritual lessons I learn. Today I was lying next to the pond and took off the crown of thorns and placed it on a few leaves of grass. The metaphor really struck home. My own evolution and its growing pains, the evolution of sentient life; a crown of thorns and a blade of grass. I was so excited I came into the house to get the camera so I could share it...I forgot the ring and now, it's soaking up the sunshine and earth down somewhere near the pond. I'll get the metal detector and find it later.

Building the Tigers A Home

There's a lot to consider when building a tiger compound. 1. Safety for the neighbors. 2. Safety for the tigers. 3. Ventilation 4. Noise 5. Odors 6. Comfort for the Tigers 7. Exercising 8. Resting 9. Weather (in all climates~~cold/hot/rain/snow) 10. Ease of Maintenance 11. Ease of Cleaning 12. Safety in Feeding/watering 13. Ease of Feeding/watering and 14. Veterinary Care.
Since I'd worked in three refuges, I took a little from each in building my compound. The outer fence is 16 feet high with barbed wire tops. The inner fence is 16 feet high with barbed wire tops. The poles supporting the fence are sunk into over a foot and a half of concrete for stability.
The compound is completely open, divided into pens (dirt runs with ponds) and dens (concrete slab with block housing). At some point I'd like to enclose the den area so I can offer them a controlled climate. But, in the meantime, I'd designed their housing so they can go inside and get out of the wind, snow and rain. They can also climb up on top of the housings. The housings also have weep holes so I can clean inside them easily.
Another point of focus was offering the tigers the choice of sun or shade throughout the course of the day as the sun moves across the sky.
In a letter to my neighbors before I began to build, I offered to plant trees to reduce any noise they may experience. I also bought 70 acres of land and plunked the compound right in the middle so I wouldn't encroach upon any neighbor's privacy or quiet.
To control odors I have gullies in the front and back of the den areas that lead to a septic system in place for the compound. I clean the dens every day.
By having so many choices in where to lie down or play, they are very comfortable. Because of the dirt and pond pen areas, they can exercise. I also let one tiger at a time have run of the perimeter compound so they can run at length. Then, they can curl up on top of their housings, or go inside them and completely get out of the wind and rain or snow.
The bottom rails are four inches above the concrete so I can easily roll their food into their dens. I also dug holes in the concrete so they can drink fresh water without worrying about the safety of small metal tins to hold the water. They also have six foot cattle troughs from which to drink.
The den areas have guillotine gates so I can shut the tigers outside in their pens while I clean their dens, or I can shut them into their dens so we can give them proper veterinary care.
Having tigers is a huge responsibility. It doesn't matter if I'm sick as an old dog, they need to be fed, watered and attended to when they need it, not when I can do it. There are huge safety considerations as well as appeasing annoyed and frightened neighbors.
Speaking of frightened neighbors, I think my next story will be The African Lion-Dog; you guys are never gonna believe this one.

Until Next Time,
Peace.
Tiger

Looking for Home

Originally I wanted to go back to Montana. I loved it there, I had good friends, but in the 6 years I was gone the land prices had skyrocketed. I'd also have to face town meetings and approvals, risking a $500,000 investment, to be told, "No." So, I started looking around.

Colorado wasn't allowing any more refuges in the state, California was out, as was Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, Oregon and Washington. I never gave Wyoming a chance, it was too desolate.

My best friend in Boulder was from Jenks, Oklahoma. She said some great things about the area, calling this part of the state 'Green Country'. I always thought of Oklahoma as a desert, with tumbleweeds blowing across lone, barren highways. Not so in the northeast corner of the state. We are actually in the southwest corner of the Ozarks.

I'd also signed up at Powwow.com so I could get notices of powwows in Colorado and noticed there were tons of them here in Oklahoma. My tribe is in Oklahoma too. So, I had several reasons to check out the state.

Land prices were fairly reasonable, it was really pretty here, I wouldn't have a ton of red tape to get through to have the sanctuary, so, I packed up, sold the beautiful home I was in, and moved.

Scared? Out of my mind. Determined? Absolutely.

Everyone should have a dream and dare to achieve it. I didn't want to be 80 years old consumed with regret. I had to do this.

Next up, finding ZenSticks.

Until next time,

Dare to Dream.

How I Knew

I need to preface this story with a brief comment about how I believe the universe works. If you're moving with the flow of the universe (or your universe), then, generally speaking, things move smoothly. If there are obstacles and lots of them and you're not happy, chances are you're misplacing your energy and need to find a new path. If there are some obstacles and you still feel happy or "right" about what you're doing, chances are it's the universe teaching you things you'll need to know at some point in time. The corollary to this is if you're not flowing with your life's path, things will happen to guide you or tell you the direction you are supposed to go. This was the case with the tigers.

I honestly believe my connection with the earth and its energies comes from being Native American and an intelligent being. I look for subtle hints to guide me. Some say, "If you can hear the whispers of God, then you don't have to wait for Him to hit you with a 2 by 4 to get the message." So, I try to listen closely, I'm not fond of 2 by 4's.

After the first refuge, as I'd mentioned, every time I'd hear a car downshift, I'd hear the tigers moan. I'd look at knotty pine and oak and see the faces of so many lions (granted, I was drunk at the time, but the experience was a valid one; it's stayed with me over time as if I'd seen them yesterday).

Then other things started to happen. I'd be walking in the grocery store and something would tell me to turn around, and I would. I'd turn to see framed pictures of tigers for sale. In the grocery store.

I met a guy named Tiger who'd moved to Boulder from Oklahoma in the hardware store...what are the odds of that happening??? I kept meeting people from Oklahoma, over and over and over again.

In the meantime, I found my smile again by learning how to skydive. I was going to Eloy, Arizona to a skydive party called a boogie. This is where hundreds of jumpers get together and get the chance to dive out of unusual and unique aircraft such as WWII carriers, hot air balloons, helicopters, etc.

I was driving to Eloy and something told me that I should get a sweatshirt. This was odd because I'd packed for both hot and cold weather. Then as I was passing a store on the side of the highway, something told me to pull in there. So I did.

I went in and they had pottery and mandalas. A mandala is a willow branch tied in a circle with feathers and a painted animal skin in the center, stretched onto the willow. On these skins are paintings of eagles, wolves, cliffs, Native Americans in prayer, mountain lions, forest scenes...things a Native American would encounter in living the tribal earthy life.

I asked the guy in the store if they had any sweatshirts. He said no, but there was a store 20 miles down the road just over the New Mexico border. As I turned around to leave (and I swear on my life this is true!)...as I turned to leave, I saw a mandala on the wall, and in the center was a skin with a tiger painted on it. I was totally blown away. I was also upset because I realized then that the tigers weren't letting me go and I had no idea how I was going to answer their call.

Off I went to Eloy and had a really great time. I asked myself, "What are the odds of this happening??"

Then the most bizarre thing happened. As I was driving down to Colorado Springs to find the third refuge, I was driving through Denver on a Friday afternoon. It was a 10 0r 12 lane highway, packed with cars, everyone was headed out for the weekend. I was driving in the far left lane because I was driving through to Colorado Springs, wondering how I was going find this refuge.

So, I'm driving along on the crowded highway and this small truck cuts right in front of me. I had to step on the brakes and I was cussing him up and down. Then I saw the sign: Caution Wild Animals On Board. Then I looked at the writing above that. Above that was the name of the refuge I was going to go look for.

Okay, any reasonable mind would say, "No way." It did happen indeed. Just like that. I mean, again, what are the odds??!! I looked up at the heavens and said, "Okay God, you have my attention now." I followed him all the way to Colorado Springs. He eventually pulled over to see who was following him. We talked awhile and he invited me out to the refuge and gave me directions.

I swear this is all true. I have an analytical mind, not a creative one; I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Now I had no doubt in my mind that rescuing big cats was what I was supposed to do. Then the "it" hit the fan with the third refuge and I realized that I needed to open up my own sanctuary.

When a Native American finds an eagle feather, it's a very powerful statement the earth is making, especially since eagles are an endangered species.

I'd decided to move to Oklahoma and put my house up for sale. I was living in Boulder city proper, having moved from Nederland in the high country (I was trying to live a life my parents would understand). I'd called the heating/air conditioning repair to make sure everything was in working order for the sale. I ran out from the house to my Jeep to get my checkbook and on the way back there was an Golden Eagle feather lying in the middle of the road. This verified to me that I was finally on the path destined for me. Once again, what are the odds of my finding an eagle feather...in the city???! Astounding validation of the earth or the universe guiding, teaching, loving its children.

Next up, looking for a home.

Until next time,

Peace.

The Third Refuge

The third refuge is an odd story. I won't tell you what led up to my being there, that story will be told when I write about how I knew I was supposed to rescue big cats.
I knew the refuge was around Colorado Springs, so I set out to go down there for the weekend to find it. I couldn't find it on the Internet, nor in the phone book, so I knew I'd have to do a little detective work.
I found it alright...very strange tale (to be told).
When I got there the husband and wife team seemed nice enough, if not a little stupid...they'd go inside the pens to clean without containing the tigers first. Idiots. I don't mean to be uncharitable, but, really.
The husband and a co-worker gave me the grand tour. When we'd walk up to a cage, if the cat was interested in me, I'd ask, "Is it okay for me to approach the cage?" That was when the owner knew I'd had experience and wasn't taking the "bonding" thing lightly. After the tour we got to work in the fields building new fence.
The two men burped and farted and swore like guys on a construction crew. I don't think I'd have minded once I got to know them, but to start off like that was a little crude. At one point the co-worker found a bottle of vodka in his trailer and carried it out saying, "I found the cure to all my problems." I was unimpressed.
Then he told me a story about himself. I'd heard rumors about it, but couldn't believe anyone who worked with big cats could possibly be that stupid and live...but, he confirmed it. The story goes like this:
He and the owner were in a cage cleaning up after a pair of tigers. One tiger grabbed the co-worker's knee, the other his head. The two tigers then started to play tug-of-war. The co-worker's calf muscles were stripped off like peeling off the meat from a chicken wing, and his scalp was de-gloved. The owner managed to get the tigers off by hitting them with a shovel. The co-worker showed me the scars from the hundreds of stitches he'd received.
They never changed their cleaning procedures...they still went into the cages without containing the animals. Idiots.
Later that day the husband sent me up to the compound to get something, and on the way I visited with a couple of tigers who were friendly (some were not). Mike Tyson used to box with his Golden Tabby Bengals in Texas, and gave one of them to this guy outside Colorado Springs. This tiger was not friendly, and it explained why Tyson bit off what's-his-name's ear.
In any case, when the wife came home she asked how I was doing. I told her everything was fine and that I'd stopped by a couple of pens to visit. She hit the roof and chewed me out. So, I suggested to her that she and her husband get together and lay out the rules so that one isn't telling me yes and the other, no. That way, we're all on the same page. She then asked, "Are you trying to separate me from my husband?"
I left that day and never went back. I also began to realize that I'd alienated myself from all the refuges in the area. From certain events I knew I was supposed to do this, but God (or the Universe) had created situations that I'd found absolutely intolerable. Did God want me to open up my own? How on earth was I going to do that?? Did He want me to move to another area so I could go on with rescue? Was I kidding myself?
So many questions...and the answers were astounding.

Until Next Time,
Peace.

The Second Refuge

After the first refuge I was depressed and pretty burned out. I got help to understand what had happened and to let it go. Even though I wasn't physiologically addicted to alcohol, I was using it for unhealthy reasons, so I went to AA too. I didn't care what I had to do, I only knew I had to stop the downward spiral I was in. This was December of 1999.

In February of 2000 I'd heard of another refuge further away than the first. I didn't care about distances, I needed and wanted to hear, feel, smell and love big cats. Every time I heard a small car downshift I heard big cats. Tiger chuffs rang in my ears, and even though most can't stand the smell of a carnivore, trust me when I tell you it's an acquired taste. Once you've been loved by such a magnificent being, there's really no going back to living without it.

I can't remember how I found these people at the next refuge, but, they seemed nice and easy-going (which was paramount as far as I was concerned). They had 75 - 80 animals~Barbary Coast lions, tigers, leopards, mountain lions, bobcats, lynx, bears, raccoons, wolves, foxes, a little bit of just about everything. Abused big cats (or exotics) is a much bigger problem than most people realize. The cause is desperately underfunded and because most of these animals were illegal or confiscated in FBI raids, little is known about the problem.

The owner and his wife (his fourth or fifth one) invited me out to take a look. The wife and I hit if off right away, although I had some concerns about her emotional stability. She was chain smoking, shaking, telling me things about her marriage that I'd have been hard pressed to tell my best friend. I didn't mind listening, given her dedication to the animals, I wanted to put her at ease as much as I could. I'm actually not all that altruistic, I'm sure in the back of my mind was a little bird telling me that if I made friends with the wife, no one could accuse me of trying to get to the husband.

This refuge was a 2 1/2 hour drive to get there, and while the animals and I didn't bond like we did at the first refuge, I did fall in love with the Barbary Coast lions there and a few of their tigers. One tiger I'd befriended had been horribly abused by a guy that would wear a cowboy hat and sunglasses. Years later, one day a visitor showed up wearing a cowboy hat and sunglasses. Innocent sounding, isn't it? When he got to this tiger's pen, this 500 pound gorgeous animal went inside his den, curled up and was shaking in terror. Although big cats can heal given the right environment, they never forget.

On with the story: The husband was lazy and I'm pretty sure the wife was an alcoholic, so when I got there, there was lots of work to do. Some of these cats had wounds on their feet and they were walking in their own feces...the only time the cages were cleaned was when I was there twice a week. Around March, the husband separated from his wife, and he took a serious fall off of a ladder and split his head open.

The wife sat by his side the whole time he was at the hospital and I came out to the refuge every day to take care of the animals. There was only one problem. The wife would forget to leave me the keys to the compound; my 2 1/2 hour drive there was wasted time, my 2 1/2 hour drive home really sucked. I didn't feel so badly for the owner and his wife, but I definitely felt for the animals. Yet, I could understand their hesitation at leaving me alone there.

Just a few months prior to my arrival, a volunteer had been showing a donor around the place and reached inside one of the tiger pens to scratch an adult male tiger in there. There were two tigers in that pen, they had been hand raised and taught that gnawing on arms was okay, but biting was not okay.

The volunteer was allowing this male to gnaw on her arm as she was talking with the donor. She turned her head away from the tiger to say something to the donor and suddenly she felt a pinch. Her reflex was to jump a little and the tiger's instincts kicked in.

The very next thing, there was screaming and running and blood everywhere, and the volunteer's dismembered arm twitching in the tiger's mouth as he tried to run away and hide from the screaming.

The owner came rushing into the compound and started hosing the tiger with water to get it to release the arm so they could try to retrieve it and hopefully have it reattached to what was left of the girl's arm.

They got her to the urgent care in the small town nearby, but they were unable to reattach the arm. The volunteer knew it was her own mistake, that the tiger was just being a tiger and convinced the state not to kill the animal. I've worked with that same tiger and all I could think was, "What an idiot." That tiger was aggressive to begin with, she had no business sticking her arms into its cage.

As it turned out, the volunteer wound up doing the talk show circuit for $10,000 a pop, the refuge had to relinquish its USDA license and was therefore unable to give tours. As expected, their donations dried up to nothing. To this day I still don't know how they managed to feed everyone. The volunteer didn't give one dime of her new found income to the refuge.

She did come to visit once in a while, she got a flat tire on the way there and changed it herself...with one arm. Pretty impressive, but she still should have tried to make up for what the refuge had lost in funds because of her.

So, the owner took to drinking, after the fall and brain surgery and everything. The wife left him. It got to a point where I would go there and he would be too hungover to work, and he would not allow me to go into the compound alone. I can't really blame him for that, but to have me drive a total of 5 hours for nothing was unreasonable (at best).

I wound up going out there less and less and eventually, stopped going.

But, I still missed my tigers, and as it turned out, all of this was leading me down a path I had yet to see.

The next and last refuge was interesting too, I'll get to that next time.

Writing this has been very therapeutic for me...finally telling my story as it was. Today, to celebrate my freedom and my tigers, I'm going to go to Skiatook Lake at dawn, do some Taiji on the beach and take a running jump into the ice cold lake. Heck, with that kind of start to the day, who needs donuts with their coffee???

Until next time,

Peace,

Tiger

A Bittersweet Memory

So, where was I? I was in love with the owner and figured if it was meant to be, it would be, and if he was just looking for something to bide his time, he'd have to do it with someone else. That someone else came to the refuge in June/July. She was one of those women with a syrupy Jawja aksaent. Everything she said was saccherine sweet, but the look in her eye was pointed...I saw her for who she was. The wife, knowing the owner was playing around, approached me one day and insinuated that it was with me. I didn't want to get involved in any political schemes so I looked at her and asked, "What are you talking about?!" She commented about certain people spending lots of time there and, well, she knew something was going on.

I'd get there early in the morning and this woman's truck would be there, she'd go into the office for a long while and come out with different clothes, basically announcing her standing in the compound. One day I noticed her clothes change and asked her about it. She said, "Ah speelled some tea." Uh-huh, right.

She knew the owner had feelings for me, so she used every opportunity to make a fool of me in front of the other workers, donors, she didn't care. The owner, when I confronted him with this laughed and said, "Yeah, it was a cheap shot." I begged him to leave me out of the political games, just give me my work for the day and leave me to my tasks. After that, he was on a mission to destroy me, as were the other workers.

I was devastated. Between rumor and innuendo, working conditions went into a downward spiral. The owner was very exacting on certain procedures and the two old guys kept screwing things up, now blaming me for their screwups.

Then one day we had 25 or 30 volunteers come in from the telephone company. The owner's hydraulic hammer wasn't working; he started screaming, throwing fits. In the meantime, these poor volunteers were all standing around him, doing nothing; the owner had to do everything himself. I made the mistake of asking if I should get some hammers from the compound and he turned and screamed at me, tearing me a new one. Even in my worst relationships I'd never been denigrated to such a level. In front of everyone.

When it was time to go home that day, I left quietly. The syrupy bitch was in her car in front of me, and the owner was behind me, right on my bumper. I was hoping he was following me so he could apologize. When I pulled over, he just kept on going, smiling ear to ear, following the syrupy bitch. It was over.

In the meantime, this lion and I had gotten closer and closer...the more alienated from people I became, I spent more and more time with him, we truly loved each other. I felt so safe with him, I knew he would fight to the death to protect me.

In my last days at the refuge I had begun drinking heavily. Here I was, I'd given up my life and friends in Montana to help this "noble" owner in his cause, to be treated so badly and ultimately rejected. I wanted to stay drunk 24/7. There were oak floors in the house I was living in. In the grains of the floor, in my drunken stupor, I would see lions, sad and crying. I knew it was a reflection of my own state of mind, and I resolved to get some help in dealing with this. Working and driving 15 hours a day, six days a week, I didn't have much of a chance to make any friends who could emotionally support me through this. I felt so alone, it was just me and this lion.

In my last days at the refuge, the lion knew something was terribly wrong, he stopped eating. Years later, I found out he died within weeks after my departure. He never ate after I left.

People ask to hear the story of how I got involved with the tigers...now you know why I'm hesitant to share the story; it's a painful one. The upside is I got really good training from a very meticulous refuge owner. I was able to take those skills and dedicate them to my own animals, and I also make sure every volunteer knows how much I appreciate their efforts.

So even though this story is a sad one, because so much good came out of it, it remains a bittersweet memory.

Next story begins on Monday, the second refuge I worked in.

The First Refuge

I'm not going to mention any names here. In fact, to start this off I want to mention the untold sacrifices this particular owner has made for his animals. There was a lion that came in, the one pictured to the left; his calcium deficiency was so great, he couldn't even walk when he came to the refuge, the bones in his legs were almost like liquid, they were like our ear cartilage.

This owner dosed the lion with huge amounts of calcium and stayed in the pen with him, turning him over every hour so he wouldn't get bedsores. Every nickel he and his wife made went to the care of the animals, and when he and his wife separated, her income still went to their care. They had very little social life, but were honored members of the local community. They spent endless hours building, cleaning, feeding and attending to their animals' needs.

When I moved to Colorado, I'd hoped to work at this sanctuary for the rest of my life. I expected to be given the worst jobs (appropriate for a newbie in the field) with no pay for a long, long time. I would drive an hour and a half there, work 12 hours digging holes, planting trees, building fence, watering, feeding, carrying fire hoses all over the place, and then drive back home to get some rest for the next day.

At first, I'd go to the refuge and he wouldn't be ready for me to work, so I'd turn around and go back home. After a while he figured I was serious, so after a few weeks of useless trips, he put me to work.

There were a couple of older guys who'd been working there for a couple of years. They were nice and they loved the animals, but they did more damage than their volunteering helped. They'd run over fire hoses with the lawnmower shredding them to pieces, lose tools, break machinery...I'm reminded of Laurel and Hardy, it was comical after a while. The owner, having a short fuse, would throw fits, jumping up and down, waving his fists, like a cartoon. That got to be comical too.

After a few weeks the owner made me manager and the two fellows were all too happy not to have to report their mistakes to the owner. On the other hand, they'd worked there before me, so they were very jealous. And that, in the end was the better part of my downfall.

The owner, I noticed, would look at me for a long time. I would deliberately ignore him; even though he was separated, well, I don't take what isn't mine. I never encouraged him, but, (and this is the first and last time I'll admit this) but, I was falling in love with him. So, I just kept my head down and did the work he'd assigned to me.

In the mornings when I'd get to the refuge I'd circle the compound saying good morning to all the animals and do a check on their well-being. After a while they expected me and the more mischievous ones would play their tricks on me.

One lioness would hide in her den, and come racing out "surprising" me. I'd jump back and pretend to reprimand her shaking my finger at her. Then she would rise up and put her great paws on the fence, I'd put my hands over her paws and we'd both do a big back stretch together. Further on there was a tigress who would hide in her bathtub and lunge up at the fence, drenching me with all kinds of nasty things...algae, poops, tadpoles...everything in her tub. I didn't mind at all, in fact, it made my whole day. Then she'd come up to the fence and we'd snuggle for a while until the owner had his morning meeting.

The lion pictured above was especially dear to me. At first he would give me his shoulder, I would scratch and massage it, then I started to make my way into his great mane. He let me get closer and closer to his ears every day. Then one day I noticed he had some sleepy feathers in his eyes, so I went to rub his eye to remove them. Too soon...he snapped at me with a hefty growl. He didn't try to bite me, it was just a warning. A few weeks went by and he trusted me more and more, then one day, he let me get into his ears, and the next, he let me clean off the sleepy feathers in his eyes.

After that, every morning he would come out of his den and lie down in front of the fence, resting the top of his enormous head against the fence and I would massage his forehead until he fell asleep. I was a member of his pride now. Lions don't care what species you are, they just care if you're male, or female. He was my master, and I was his contented little lover. And I did love him from the core of my being.

He had lionesses on each side of him. One time, they were both in heat. I was standing there in front of his pen; he looked at one lioness, then the other with deep meaning. Then he looked at me pitifully and heaved a great sigh as if to say, "So close and yet so far."

I will finish this story tomorrow,

Until next time:

Peace,

Tiger

A Beginning

I was living in Montana, newly divorced, looking for ways to recover from a bad marriage. I was 35 years old, seeing the ugly side of 40 already, and not very happy about it. Most people my age were all settled into their jobs, their marriages and young families; I didn't have any of those advantages.

Over the years I'd noticed I was pretty good at picking stocks, so I studied hard and took my Series 65 exam to become an investment advisor. Having lived in the ghetto for a few years, money was pretty important to me if I wanted to stay out of cockroach infested apartments, desperate screams in the night, police that would never show up when called. Yep, I wanted to make some money.

I noticed though that both myself and my clients, once we had some money, it didn't change what we felt was missing in our hearts. Having met my financial goals, I decided to dedicate my life to service, to ease suffering in the world. I'd seen enough of it in my life and really wanted to do something insignificant, but profound. I began to question whether or not I was going through the typical mid-life crisis in the winter of 1999.

One night I was channel surfing and caught the end of a news broadcast about a guy in Colorado who had 22 big cats. He'd been laid off and needed money quickly, otherwise his animals were going to be killed. (As it turns out, he does this every six or seven years). The story really touched me, so I called his bank and wired enough funds to feed the animals for three months, giving him time to get his feet back on the ground.

He was very appreciative and invited me to come to Colorado to meet the animals I'd helped save. I went and fell in love.

The big cats, unlike people, were honest about who and what they were. They'd offer me their shoulders and throats to scratch, but they also let me know they'd have me for lunch in a heartbeat. I respected that honesty immensely.

When I looked into their eyes I saw God. I saw majesty, wisdom, love and yearning...everything I wanted to be, everything I already was.

I went back to Montana with a huge headache. My life had changed forever.

I waited three weeks and went back...I didn't want to make a life changing decision based on a mid-life crisis need to be needed. When I went back to Colorado, my feelings were validated; I'd finally found my purpose in life.

I went back to Montana and put my horse ranch up for sale and moved to Colorado in May of 1999.

Until next time,
Tiger

Introduction

Hi,

My name is Laurie Desjardins, but everyone calls me Tiger. The most obvious reason is that I rescue tigers, but there are other reasons as well which I'll go into some other time. I am also the inventor and manufacturer of ZenSticks, a new concept in mind/body/spirit alignment, focus and relaxation. I'll be updating this quite often, there are lots of tiger stories to tell and tons of really cool pictures. I'll also be writing about how my customers use their ZenSticks. Since it's such a new product, we're really just scratching the surface. You can check them out now at http://sleepingtiger.org

So, HELLO, and welcome to my world! :-)

Until next time,

Peace,

Tiger