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