Release the Tiger Page 3

  Mia didn't say a word.

  "Yes," bellowed the manageress, answering a question only she seemed to hear.

  "Hello, I am Mia."

  "Let's not waste a minute. Let's go to the tiger's cage," said the spiky-haired lady.

  "OK," squeaked Mia.

  "Follow me." The manageress stood up. A large dog got out from behind the desk and followed her. Her fingers were still crossed. While she was walking, her spiky hair pointed downward. When they both left the trailer I could still see Mia, but shortly afterward, she disappeared.

  The manageress walked in a bouncy sort of way. She looked like a hedgehog. What do I know about hedgehogs? I can never tell them apart from porcupines. They can be prickly, and they can stab you, just like words sometimes do. I wonder what they do when it's freezing outside. Most animals just cuddle together for the warmth, but they can't, because they're so prickly and... oh, well...

  The large dog began dancing with Panda. They were stomping their feet and turning their faces to one side and then to the other side, in a Spanish flamenco rhythm. The manageress gave a short bark: "Arrow!" and the dog wailed and ran to her. They walked together, exactly 23 steps, until they reached the cages of the predators, the most dangerous animals. The manageress stood in front of the tiger's cage. Her dog stood right beside her. Panda, Chai, and Mia stood near her as well.

  "Go into the cage and talk to Leopard the tiger!" commanded the manageress.

  "Go into the cage?" asked Mia, her eyes wide open.

  A tiger is the scariest animal. Why should she go into its cage? Has she gone mad? I was ready to jump on the manageress. Mia felt something tugging at her pants. She looked and saw her cat Chai calling her.

  "What's the matter, Chai?" she asked.

  She saw Chai lie down on the ground and wiggle. The cat stretched her body, sending her arms and legs as far as she could. She turned sideways and rolled over on her back, and then turned to the other side. Mia scratched her neck and under her chin, and then she scratched her belly and all of a sudden she realized what her spotted tricolor cat was telling her:

  "Look at me. I look like a tiger. Me and the tiger–we're actually quite similar. And why is that? Because we're members of the same family. I'm just a little smaller, that's all.”

  "I know," said Mia happily. "Chai told me that at heart, a tiger is actually a little cat. He's a little cat that wants to be stroked and scratched and comforted. Don't worry, Nana." And before I had a chance to shout, "Mia, donnnnnn't!" she reached the tiger's cage.

  "I want to know," continued the manageress, "what's wrong with our tiger. He's always had such a wonderful show, doing all these tricks with his tamer, but lately, instead of jumping through burning hoops, he jumps sideways and lets his fur catch fire." She tried to catch her breath. "If it wasn't for his tamer he would have been roasted."

  The tiger stared directly at Mia. She wasn't afraid and looked back straight into his eyes. She didn't even blink. The tiger was first to lower his gaze. He looked a little shy. Mia moved closer. She reached into the cage and scratched the tiger around the ears and neck. The tiger closed his eyes in delight. He lay down on the ground, and Mia bent over, stroking his belly. She saw bits of burnt fur and caressed him gently while the tiger stretched his limbs like a little kitten. Mia noted that the only difference between him and Chai was in size, especially the size of the teeth.

  I was worried. I couldn't move. I stood there, about to faint. What if the tiger devours Mia? You can't trust tigers, can you? And this one... what do we even know about him?

  The tiger Leopard made a series of sounds, telling Mia the whole story. Mia replied with rhythmic silent whistles that only he could understand. Shhhh... Tesssss...

  The circus manageress, I, and a number of other workers could only see Mia holding the whistle in her mouth and blowing. We couldn't hear a sound.

  Mia whistled, and the tiger replied, and then again, and when they finished their conversation, Mia turned away.

  "Well?" the manageress shot her question like an arrow. "What did he say? Why did he jump straight into the fire?"

  "I’m sorry, but I can't tell you," said Mia.

  "What?!" the manageress was furious and began kicking small pebbles on the ground.

  "Leo asked me not to tell anyone."

  "You don't say... Leo..." She looked crazy. Her hedgehog-like hair began to twirl. "His name is Leopard!"

  The manageress pulled some very sharp pencils from her bag and for a moment Mia was afraid she was going to throw them at her like darts.

  "What did you say to him? I saw you whistling to him."

  "Yes, I did," said Mia and blew away the hairs that covered her face. "And I can't tell you what it meant."

  "You are wasting my time, girl. You were supposed to show me how you talk to the animals," the manageress was annoyed. "You came highly recommended by the headhunter. The clown gave me a flyer. I even heard a rumor spread by the acrobat."

  "I had no idea that the tiger was going to tell me a secret."

  The manageress threw all her pencils away nervously. She ran around thinking what to do with this annoying little girl. Suddenly a truck arrived.

  "Well, little girl," she curled into herself like a hedgehog, "you wasted too much of my time. I have to go to an important meeting. I suggest you find someone here in the circus that would be willing to testify in writing that they saw you talking to the animals, making them dance or even persuading them to jump through burning hoops. Do that and I shall hire you, got it? Step into my office. I have to give you an official letter."

  Mia said nothing. She had no idea what an official letter was. Once again, she found herself trying to understand what those grown-ups were talking about. The manageress took one of her sharpened pencils and wrote:

  Date...

  To whom it may concern:

  Is the girl known as "Mia the prophet" really a prophet?

  Anyone who is willing to swear they saw Mia making animals dance and predicting their actions is kindly asked to sign hereby (under oath) so that I might hire Mia to perform in the circus.

  Sincerely,

  The Circus Manageress

  Mia had no idea who "whom it may concern" was. She didn't know who to take this letter to. She thought maybe an official letter is something you leave in an office, but the manageress said, "Make sure someone sees you talking to the animals."

  "Someone like ‘Whom’?"

  "Yes." The manageress tried to climb into the truck.

  Mia went out to look for Mr. or Mrs. Whom.

  Before leaving, Mia turned to the manageress and said,"Forgive me for saying so, but you're in a very bad shape."

  "You cheeky monkey," said the manageress. She couldn't help herself and added, "How do you know?" and Mia answered,

  "Your dog is fat."

  What the Tiger

  Said to Mia

  The manageress went away, and Mia went looking for Whom, although she didn't want to prove anything anymore. She didn't want anyone to tell the manageress how good and talented she is. She didn't even want to join the circus anymore. The things Leo the tiger told her made her very upset. She began to think that maybe life in the circus was not all that glamorous. If that’s how they treat tigers–she didn't want anything to do with it.

  Mia bumped into a huge man with tons of muscles, and asked him,

  "Excuse me, are you Mr. Whom?"

  "No," he replied from the sky. "I am the bodybuilder."

  "Do you know where I can find him?"

  "There is no ‘Mr. Whom.’ It can be anyone."

  "How come?"

  Mia was very confused. She decided to look for Mr. Given the headhunter and discuss the whole matter with him and maybe reconsider their contract. She wanted to go home, to her mother a
nd father, and where was grandmother when she needed her?... She needed me to hug her and explain to her all those tricky words that kept appearing in her contract with the headhunter, in the clown's flyer, in the rumor, and even in the official letter. But I lost Mia somewhere between the tents. I was looking for her near the elephant cage.

  Leo kept howling. Mia could not ignore his wails. She knew he was very miserable.

  He told her about his life in captivity. How the circus people wouldn't give him food until he agreed to walk on a giant ball, how they beat him in order to make him jump from a platform near the top of the tent through burning hoops and perform in front of strangers he didn't even like.

  The one thing that kept Leo going was the cage cleaner. He was the only one in the circus that really loved him. Most people were afraid of the tiger, and that made them unpleasant.

  "I hate performing," said Leo.

  Mia used her silent whistle to play a relaxing tune for Leo, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about. She was going to take care of him. She wasn't about to let things go on the way they did. "If you hate performing," the tune seemed to say, "you shouldn't be made to do it."

  Although Mia managed to calm the tiger, she still didn't have any idea how to help him. She kept whistling hopeful tunes for Leo. These tunes were promises she knew she had to keep.

  Leo hardly ate anything. His eyes were empty, his ears hung down. He spent his days lying around doing nothing. There was no doubt: He was depressed.

  Mia wandered around the tents and trailers. In a distance she noticed a dwarf. She saw a ballerina dancing on the back of a white horse, but that did not make her happy. Her thoughts were locked up in the cage, right next to Leo the tiger.

  She knew Leo was waiting for her to do something.

  Don't worry, she thought. I will save you. I won't leave you behind. I will release you, Leo.

  The Pantomime Artist

  Mia decided to look for friends who could help her release the tiger. At a distance she noticed a lady that was pretending to struggle in order to get out of the shower. It was the pantomime artist. She pushed the imaginary glass door with her hands, and smiling with embarrassment, she moved as if she were really stuck in a real shower booth.

  Mia thought she might find it easy to communicate with her. Pantomime artists don't use words. They use their body, their gestures, and their facial expressions. Their language is similar to the language of children.

  "Your act is very realistic," said Mia.

  The pantomime artist bowed, holding her palms together as if saying, "thank you."

  "What's your name?" asked Mia.

  The pantomime artist stretched two fingers.

  "Your name is Two Fingers?" wondered Mia.

  The pantomime artist pretended to laugh. Mia realized she meant that her name was made up of two syllables. The pantomime artist pointed at herself.

  "Me? Your name is Me?" struggled Mia.

  The pantomime artist was excited. She smiled. Once again, she showed Mia two fingers.

  "Me-Me? Your name is Mimi?" Mia and the pantomime artist smiled.

  The pantomime artist changed her expression. One of her eyes seemed to be crying. Mia thought that maybe her previous act was not funny at all. The pantomime artist felt locked up in the imaginary shower, just like Leo was locked up in his cage. Her cage didn't have bars of steel. It had other bars. The bars that kept her locked inside were in her soul. Mia realized she was a very sad lady.

  "I want to tell you a secret," said Mia. "I didn't want to say anything to the manageress, but we have to help Leo the tiger. It's not right to abuse animals like that. The tiger should be free. He should go back to the jungle. He’s depressed. It's not fair, it's not fair, and it's so not fair!" she was almost screaming.

  The pantomime artist froze. She turned herself into a statue.

  "I’m talking to you. Do you hear me? Do something. Don't you love Leo?"

  The pantomime artist didn't move.

  "I vowed to set him free. Do you know how I did it?" tried Mia. She was hoping to get a reaction from the pantomime artist. But the lady didn't move. She was frozen. Like ice cream. Like a chocolate Popsicle.

  "Some people take a vow by promising something out loud," said Mia. "But not me. I don’t use words."

  The pantomime artist started moving a little, like a doll. She made tiny movements and stopped, as if her battery were running low. Mia was happy to see her move. Even a little.

  "I do it the way Native Americans do it," said Mia. She took out a safety pin from her pocket and pricked her thumb. A tiny drop of blood appeared. Slowly but surely the tiny drop got bigger and bigger.

  Panda the dog was tense. She stood up and glued herself to Mia's leg. She looked worried. Crazy Chai started moving restlessly.

  Mia grabbed the pantomime artist's thumb and pricked it with her pin too. A drop of blood appeared, but the lady didn't show any sign of pain. Mia crossed their thumbs together so the two drops of blood could mix. She gave the pantomime artist a deep and serious look. Her deep love for animals was in that look, her concern for Leo, her cry for help, her search for friends who could help her set him free. For a long while the pantomime artist didn't move. Nothing seemed to concern her. She stood still like a statue made of stone. But then a couple of tears appeared in her eyes, one in each eye. Mia hugged her. She held her like a little sister.

  The Bodybuilder

  Mia was excited. After sealing her new friendship with the pantomime artist in blood, she was ready to free the tiger. She was disappointed to discover that the pantomime artist remained standing still like a chocolate Popsicle. It didn't look like she was going to take part in any courageous operation. No wonder she is doing pantomime, thought Mia. She lost her voice. She is trapped in her inner cage. She is tortured and suffering even more than the tiger, because she doesn't even dream of being free. Mia felt her shoulders drop, as if someone had placed a heavy bag on her back.

  Mia knew she had to keep looking. She needed another partner. Mister Given, the headhunter, watched her from a distance and saw her approaching the bodybuilder. He was content. He was sure she was trying to convince him to sign the official letter she had to show the manageress. The headhunter was still hoping Mia would join the circus, so he could get a nice cut from the money she was about to earn. He noticed Crazy Chai staring at the bodybuilder, hoping he would pet her. He saw Panda the dog having a nap in the shade. The thought of them starting to feel at home there made him happy.

  Mia noticed that the bodybuilder was walking a little slower than everyone else. His muscles were shiny, covered with oil. He was looking sideways, making sure everyone noticed him. Lucky he hasn't got a tail–laughed Mia. He would have probably showed it off like a peacock.

  The bodybuilder was arrogant, but Mia thought he was the strongest person around, and that should come in handy when trying to free a tiger from a steel cage.

  "Hello, Mister Bodybuilder," said Mia.

  "Can you tell me my future?" asked the bodybuilder. "Can you tell me if I shall be the most famous bodybuilder in the world?"

  "You are," said Mia, "but on one condition." She knew what the best way to treat an arrogant person like him was.

  "OK, what's that?" he was excited.

  "You should help me free Leo," said Mia Mor.

  His excitement disappeared.

  "Oh... you need to get everyone else's approval for that," he began scratching his head, making sure not to muss his hairdo. "If I try to do it myself, I might lose my job."

  "How are you going to get everyone to agree?" asked Mia.

  "Oh... it's not me who's going to... you will have to do that." He showed off his right arm's muscles. "I suggest you arrange a petition," he said.

  "A petition? What's that?" Mia was confused.

&n
bsp; "It's like showing off your muscles, only in writing, on a piece of paper," he explained. Mia didn't understand.

  "How do you do that?" she asked.

  "It's a way of showing how strong you are with words," said the bodybuilder and flexed his muscles again.

  Mia felt very tired. She didn't like all those grown-ups with their complicated life.

  "Do you have a piece of paper?” asked the bodybuilder.

  Mia handed him some paper and a pen, and this is what he wrote:

  * * *

  A Petition

  We call upon

  Each man and child

  To gather quickly at our side

  Each dancer, clown, and marching band

  We stand together and demand:

  Free Leo the Tiger!

  * * *

  "What should I do with that?" asked Mia.

  "You set up a stall and ask each person that comes by to sign their name," explained the bodybuilder.

  "And what happens then?" insisted Mia.

  "The more signatures you collect, the more power you have. The manageress will have to do whatever we demand." The bodybuilder was thrilled.

  "Will you be the first person to sign my petition?" suggested Mia.

  "No. I shall be the last one to sign. Good luck."

  "Don't you think your signature would help me convince the others to sign too?" Mia was rearranging her ponytail again.

  "No no no! I shall be the last person to sign.” The bodybuilder seemed anxious and didn't want to talk to her anymore.

  Mia spent the following hours talking to the cage cleaners, the tamers, and the clown. She even tried to convince the headhunter to sign her petition.