He was tired. His body was tired, so was his mind, yet he could not find rest. Once, at the height of his career, the tiger had a similar feeling. At that time, however, it was more a feeling of being lost.
The tiger hardly remembered anything about his childhood. Apart from a few more or less caring people, he could not remember loving contacts. Brought up on the bottle in a zoo, he later was sold off to a circus. The little he remembered about his childhood in the zoo, its ending and the transport to the new home he remembered very vividly, too vividly. Laying in the dark, half awake, half stunned he felt the vibration of the transport underneath his body. At that moment, it seemed, life had left him before it even had started. When he finally woke up in his cage, he wished it would have ended, mainly due to a terrible hangover from anaesthesia. But he was alive and looking back to that time now, he could proudly say he was lucky to be. Because what he experienced further down the line, he would not have dared to dream at that time: success, fame, as much food as he could ever digest and everything else you could wish for, being a tiger. Before all of that, however, at his arrival in the circus, he found himself laying on litter and hard ground…