Chapter Three

Change of Heart

Hope, the black jaguar, begins to moan loudly when she hears our masters’ voices. Both men are walking down the dirt path beside our sleeping quarters. I, too, sit straight up in my cage and give them a quiet m–oww as they arrive. With leashes in hand, Jonathan takes Hope out of her enclosure, and David gets Sampson. They’re led away to the small dirt field where the men pause to discuss the day’s events. The two cats use the time to visit with each other.

I can hear Hope asking Sampson about his life before he was brought here. Sampson is one of the newer cats in the show, and I’m also interested in hearing about his past life. Is it at all like mine? Sampson has now sat down thoughtfully. He seems to be looking off in the distance as if he can see his past life somewhere beyond the field. The sunlight shines on his burnt orange colored fur and his mane is long and full. Eventually, Hope lies down near his feet with her head on her paws, listening.

“I lived the life of a circus cat. Those were tough days…traveling long distances from place to place, stuffed in small train compartments for days at a time. No life for a lion, for sure! Sometimes the heat and stagnant air were almost unbearable, and I felt I could not breathe! There was no way to stay clean since we were not allowed to leave the compartment on the train until the circus tent was all set up. We slept, ate, and went to the bathroom in that small space. Once the circus crew had everything prepared, we were moved but continued to be confined to our small cages. For all the big cats in the circus act, it was agony; the applause during shows was deafening, and show schedules were exhausting.

“The poor elephants fared even worse, as they were chained by one leg closely to a heavy pole or log. Bernice was one of the five huge elephants, or pachyderms (which means “thick-skinned”), and though she had been with the circus for more than fifteen years, her heart still mourned for her family back home in India where she was born. She shared her experiences with the circus animals, because many of us had no idea what living in the wild was like, and we were always interested in the stories she told. In some ways, an elephant herd is much like a lion’s pride, as they both have close family bonds. The babies are guarded with diligence by each family member, which includes the oldest mother, (or “matriarch”), sisters, aunts, and cousins. Bernice told me how her family would walk for miles and miles every day and knew the path so well because it had been used by many generations of elephants. The matriarch was the leader of the herd and she was the wisest of all the family members. The others trusted her and always followed her. Bernice had happy memories of when the family spent time at the watering holes. That was so much fun for her. The babies enjoyed playing in the water and spraying it over their bodies. Their magnificent long trunks are more than a nose that can smell. They are used to suck up water, grab hold of and bring food to their mouths, move things, and even dig. They even use their trunks to greet each other. They are not carnivores like we are, Hope; they’re herbivores and only eat vegetation, leaves, grasses, and that sort of thing.

“Anyway, as time went by, Bernice began to get infections in her feet, and she was in pain every day of her life. But that didn’t matter to the circus owner. He made her continue the rigorous daily routines, which meant standing on two feet for long periods of time and doing tricks. The men would hit the elephants with a bull hook to manage them, and many times I watched while they were hit so hard with it that blood leaked from their skin. Eventually, Bernice gave up hope, and one morning I awoke to see her being hauled away on a trailer. She had died in the night. That was one of the saddest days of my life. But now she is free. Bernice can’t be tortured any longer. The circus owner didn’t even mourn her death; he had already been training another young elephant to take her place. It was shameful, Hope, utterly shameful.

“As for the big cats, we were trained and forced to perform demeaning and unnatural tricks to entertain the public. Many times we were whipped when we didn’t follow the routine our masters planned for us. Once I was hit on my back with a whip so hard I could feel it burn my flesh. It hurt terribly, and I cried in pain. I cowered in a corner, hoping my master would see that I was sorry for making a mistake. I licked my wound, and eventually my flesh healed, but my spirit felt broken. That’s exactly what the trainers wanted to happen to us; they thought our broken spirits would cause us to obey them and do the shows properly.

“Some of the tigers in the show had been used for photo opportunities when they were young. People paid money to have their picture taken with a tiger. The tigers were chained tightly and handed from one paying customer to the next. When a tiger cub weighed around eighty pounds, or turned six months old, it was sold at an auction or to another circus or roadside show because, at that weight, the animal could be dangerous enough to hurt a customer—even kill someone! As for me, I was sold as a young cub to this circus and was trained to entertain. I had to jump through a burning hoop, and though I didn’t like fire, I feared the whip more. People found that trick wonderful; I found it humiliating and degrading. Jump through hoops, follow the leader, stand on two legs, and prance around!”

“Terrible,” Sampson says sadly. “Just terrible.”

I watch Sampson lie down as if he’s exhausted, and I feel exhausted, too, listening to what he and Bernice and the others in his past life endured. I wish I could be near Sampson now and rub my head against his to show him some affection. But I’m stuck in this small enclosure.

“So, Hope, what’s your story?” Sampson says, looking up at the sky now, on his back. “Were you part of a circus act before you came here?”

“Oh no, no, I was a pet!” Hope says and sits up straight. She licks a front paw and inspects it; it looks clean to me.

“How can a big jaguar be a pet?”

I’m wondering the same thing as Sampson. How could a big cat be someone’s pet? Hmm. With my ears perked and pressed against the cage bars, I strain to hear the details.

“I had a home, for a while at least. A human family bought me from a breeder, so I was taken away from my mother when I was only a few weeks old. Don’t ask me anything about my family, because I can’t remember. But as I grew older, I was allowed to roam free at a large ranch. People came and went; seldom was I chained. I was fed well, and sometimes I stalked and caught my own prey. There were rabbits and other small animals that would enter the large fenced ranch, and they became my dinner.

“I now believe that I was a guard for the property, as it would be a very bad idea for a stranger to climb over the fence or dig underneath it when a jaguar is about! My owners also enjoyed having an exotic animal to show off to visitors. Then I was taken away and brought here. Word is, my owners might have been drug dealers and were put in jail. I didn’t do anything wrong, and yet I feel I’ve now been put in jail, too, since I’m unable to roam freely about the ranch where I once lived. You know, Sampson, I’d rather be killed living out a wild life than die of old age living out someone else’s dream.”

We’re all quiet and somber now, while our masters continue to chat. Though I know the love they have for all the animals here, they have no idea what sad stories have just been told. I sit at the corner and edge of my small enclosure, looking out at the traveling crates lined up and ready to be loaded on the trailer. None of these animals are living a natural life and it’s sad to me. There are other animals besides the big cats that are included in the shows each day. There is an ostrich, a llama, a donkey, and a wolf, and they each have a small enclosure of their own. The only real predator and carnivore in that bunch is the wolf. The other animals are herbivores and a predator’s prey. In other words, in the wild they would all be food for a big cat.

It’s time to get loaded up for the short trip to the arena and then it’s showtime. Once the vehicle has stopped and cages are removed from the truck, we have to wait our turn to perform. While we wait, there’s nothing much to do but sleep, which naturally I love doing anyway. I’m retrieved by my master and, as usual, I’m ready to go! The chain is hooked to my collar as we walk a short distance to the exhibition area. I jump on the rock that lies in the middle of the stage and yawn widely, showing off my huge sharp, white canines. As I shut my mouth, my eyes catch sight of a brightly colored headpiece placed at a slightly crooked angle on the head of a lady. The hat is the color of blood. It has no scent of meat, but I can feel my mouth begin to salivate—the thought of food is regularly on my mind. The sight of red makes me hungry. In the wild, if a lion isn’t sleeping or lounging about, he’s eating! Big cats are predators, as you know.

Something else keeps my attention on this lady with the blood-red hat. Instead of moving on to the next show, she stays at our “African Safari” exhibit long after the other people leave. My master begins to chat with her, and she’s telling him something about keeping big cats for use in show business. I hear him call her Stephanie, and the look on her face is very serious. “Jonathan,” she spoke. “When will people quit using these beautiful wild creatures for amusement and entertainment? We both believe they deserve a better life and since you already rescue animals and are working on teaching others about their plight, why don’t you just open your own sanctuary and give them a place they can call home?”

My master is silent. I would say thoughtful. He looks at the floor, deep in thought. I pull at my chain not knowing what I’m supposed to do now. Usually, Jonathan walks me right back to my holding crate, but he is still standing in the same spot.

Eventually, Stephanie moves on, and I’m taken back to my crate until the next show, which will be two hours from now. Something unusual has happened today. I can sense something changing in Jonathan’s heart. He’s left me now and gone on to get the next animal for the show.

“Hi, Elvis, how was the show today? Get any popcorn?”

“No. But there was something very different about today.”

“And what was that, Elvis?”

“There was a special person in the audience today. It was a lady with a big red hat, and she spoke to our master for some time after the show. I noticed an emotion well up in him that I haven’t seen before.”

“Well, I hope he feels better tomorrow,” Natasha says.

“I do, too!” Hope adds.

“Well, we have two more shows to go today, so we’ll see,” I said.

§ § § § § §

The days have continued to be the same as always: short walk to the holding crates, ride to the arena, and sit. Do three shows, back to the crates, load into the trailer, ride back to the enclosure and into the night rooms, eat, and sleep.

Until this morning. Rather than going to do the show, we’re being taken to a new place. The drive is much longer than I’m used to. The transport truck is coming to a stop, but there is an unusual silence. There are no crowds of people, only two other vehicles and some buildings along with many medium-sized, fenced outdoor enclosures. There’s a lady waiting here, and she claps her hands in delight when our master opens the door of the truck and gets out. They greet each other with a hug, and though I’ve seen her before at some of the shows, I feel I may be seeing much more of her now. It’s just instinct, but I feel a bond between her and my master.

Her name is Tina, and I’m happy for her to take part in our care. She looks very friendly, and being pretty doesn’t hurt much either! The sun is slowly setting now and all of us animals are in new enclosures. Mine is pretty nice; I have more room to walk around. I’m looking forward to what tomorrow brings, but for now, it’s time to sleep.