Theo Meets a Tiger

      Theo's fascination with "big cats" begins while he's watching a documentary. He doesn't watch much TV, but when a tiger walks across the screen as he stalks his prey, Theo is mildly curious.

       "He's one of your ancestors." 

        The rule with Theo is to keep things simple. No elaborate stories. He doesn't have the patience. 

        Of the 38 species of cats on this planet, most are small cats. Theo doesn't realize it, but the tiger is the most similar to the small cats. They share about 95.6% of the same DNA, which is remarkable when you think about it. Or is it so remarkable?  

     

       There are differences. Size, of course. Small cats purr. A tiger roars, and his roar can be heard for 5 miles due to the specialized structure of his vocal chords. Tigers also love to be in the water and will often bathe in a stream or river to cool off. The shape and color of their eyes (tigers only have hazel or copper eyes) are different, too, but that's about it. 

        Is Theo really a miniature tiger in disguise?

        We set off for the zoo to see a tiger in person, up close and personal. An Amur tiger lives at the Philadelphia Zoo. As we approach, the tiger is doing what tigers tend to do--sleeping when they're not marking their territory. Tigers choose an area, then mark the perimeters with their scent by scratching their nails vertically across tree bark. It's their calling card. It's their way of saying this is where I live. If tigers share a territory with other animals, this helps the others know when it is safe to enter so there are no surprise encounters.   

         Tigers also follow a regular schedule for checking their area, to refresh their scent and/or patrol the grounds.

        "Look, Theo. He's doing what you do all the time."

         No comment.

         Theo stands watch at our patio door for any intruders onto the patio area. Squirrels, birds and especially other neighborhood cats. He'll literally pounce at the glass to scare them off, then run around the house, looking out of all the windows, to see where they run off to. 

         Tigers also like to perch in high places. They will climb a tree or a mountain to get a good view of the surrounding area. They want to be able to see everything. 

         Theo, Mico and Sienna do the same thing. They prefer to be up high--on the back of a chair, on a table, on top of a door--looking down, observing, getting the lay of the land. They particularly like looking out the upstair windows. They can see everything from their perch.

          "I don't know Theo. We're going to have to start calling you "Il Tigre," Italian for "the tiger."

         Theo doesn't think that's funny. 

         Tigers and cats both have 30 teeth. They groom their fur on a regular basis. Tiger cubs wrestle, bite, and paw each other. They stalk each other before pouncing in preparation for when they're adults.

         Theo fits the bill. He hides behind a chair and will jump out as Mico unsuspectingly saunters by. He'll jump over Mico and land right in front of him, just because he can. They'll race after each other, up the stairs, and when they get to the top, stand there and stare at each other. Sometimes they then groom each other. Sometimes they wrestle on the rug.

         I point out to Theo what I've observed. He shrugs. 

         Tigers also use the slow blink at each other. It's their way of calming the other tiger down or offering reassurance. 

         "I've seen you do that," I say to Theo. 

         I'm looking for a concession. I want Theo to admit he is more like a tiger than he thinks. But he won't go there.

         Finally, as we're leaving the exhibit, Theo comes face to face . . .  with a tiger? 

         He stops, crouches, and then blinks. Then he realizes the tiger isn't moving. It's a cardboard cutout of a tiger. Yeah, Theo goes over to sniff him just to make sure.

         That's as close as Theo will ever get to a real tiger. God willing. Because there's no doubt in my mind, if they ever did meet face to face, Theo would be just another tasty meal to a hungry tiger, ancestor or not.

          PS The tiger is an endangered species. Of all the "big cats," the tiger is the closest to extinction. Only 3,500 tigers remain in the wild. There are no wild tigers living in the United States. Approximately 5,000 tigers are captive in zoos, sanctuaries, and private facilities. 

          

          

        

        

Animals in Danger

        We're on our way to the zoo. It's part of the payback for convincing Theo (our gangster cat) to help us during the missing Mico sink drainer incidents. Snacks were involved, of course. But a trip to the zoo to see the "special animals" is part of the deal, too. 

      The conversation went something like this:

      Theo: I want to see them, see. 

       Dan: Yes, of course. We'll take you to the zoo so you can see them face to face.  

       Theo: And save them.

       It's hard to know what's rolling around in the mind of a cat. Sometimes it's obvious--that plaintive meow usually means he wants a treat. Other times, his desire to save them makes no sense at the time. 

       We are within driving distance of the Philadelphia Zoo. It is one of my favorite places to go. I love animals. All kinds of animals--especially the big cats and the giraffes. And the monkeys.

        This time, however, we are going to see the "special animals." Or in adult speak, some of the endangered species. In danger of becoming non-existent. Whose habitat is threatened. 

         You have to go inside a building at the zoo to see them. You walk down a hallway which seems to me like you're walking down death's row. I am acutely aware of what these animals face. Their chances of survival. Theo is with us, but I'm not sure how much he understands. Dan has him in a special carrier so our curious and concerned cat can see these animals up close and personal. 

          We arrive at the first exhibit. The Pied Tamarin is described as being bald, beautiful and in trouble. They live in the forests of Brazil, in forests which are being destroyed. Species in Danger in red ink catches our attention. 

                   We try to explain to Theo that if the forest trees are knocked down, these little guys will have no place to live. He seems to understand. He's looking very intently.

             "Like the squirrels," I point out. He knows what squirrels are. 

          We move on. The Francois langur hails from China and Vietnam. A new baby Quy Bau was born in 2020 and has thrived. Baby Lei was born in 2021. Zoos help with breeding so endangered animals survive. We catch the family on video acting a lot like monkeys.

            Theo enjoys watching the langurs swing around in their cage, but as we move on, he gives me a soulful look. 

           The Rodrigues fruit bat is another species in danger. These bats roost together during the day, but during the night they disperse and seek out the juice of ripe fruit such as mangoes and figs. Contrary to popular folklore, they do not suck blood. They are also endangered, of course. 

           At first, they're difficult to spot, but I can tell the moment that Theo sees his first fruit bat. It is a sight to see as he slowly opens his large wings to stretch. 

           "Are bats like birds?" he asks.

           The easy answer is best. "Well, they can fly like birds."

 

       We figure one more "special animal," before we move on. All the White Faced Saki Monkeys don't have white faces, only the boy monkeys. They are usually calm and quiet until they aren't. They can puff up their fur and bounce up and down on branches when they're doing their territorial call. They live in South America.  

              

           It's time to go and we begin to head toward the door, but Theo squirms in Dan's arms and manages to drop to the floor.  

 

           "Theo, what is it?"

           Theo is a cat of few meows. He looks over at the White Faced Saki Monkeys. "We need to save them, see?"

           Now I get it. He thinks these Saki Monkeys are literally the last ones . . . I turn to Dan and squinch up my face. How do you explain to Theo that the problem of endangered species is much bigger than saving one family of White Faced Saki Monkeys? 

           As we ponder our dilemma, Theo moves over to their cage. He cases the joint, looking for a way to jump up. He sniffs every nook and cranny. 

           "These monkey are safe," we say. "But other Saki monkeys need some help."

  

           He shoots us that look, the kind that teenagers give their parents when they think they're full of it. I expect him to meow, "Whatever."

          "We can send food." (Make a donation.)

          Dan hoists Theo up so he can get closer, and he presses his face against the glass. 

          We leave the building with mixed feelings. On the one hand we're so proud that our furry boy cares. On the other hand, the three of us wish we could do more.

           Later, back at home, I wax philosophical at Theo. "We know what's going on. Now we can let other people know."

           "It's not fair, see?"

           And Theo is absolutely right.