You have a WHAT in your basement?

Warning, this is going to be a bit of a rant. Get out now while you can.

I was reading the news a few days ago, and noting the absolute lack of anything interesting happening, when an article caught my eye. "Tiger Pet at Sixth Avenue!" trumpeted the headline, no doubt the highlight of one eager-beaver journalist's day. This was big news to a country where the story of two snot-nosed kids who went missing for two hours was flashed on the news highlights ahead of Yasser Arafat’s death. Sheesh.

Being a total nutcase about animals, and absolutely fascinated by the concept of exotic pets, I naturally have to go and read this article. There’s a version of it here

Reading it, the thing that really got to me was "Who the hell are the ACRES jokers??" Offering $1000 for someone to squeal on their neighbor? Animal activists like them give animal lovers a made name. Looking out for animal welfare is all well and good. But I have this horrible feeling that these people have no clue what they’re talking about.

The self-styled President said of the supposed sun-bear ""The guy who tipped us off said his friend's bear was well-kept in a cage. It can't possibly be well-kept because these Malayan sun bears, being good climbers, are supposed to be sleeping in trees," said Mr Ng

What a monkey! Yes, sun bears are excellent climbers, but it’s yet unproven that they lounge about on their KingCoil tree branches when they sleep! Even in the zoo, when the sun bears decide to catch some zz’s, they’re usually tucked away in the cave, possibly so they can avoid having tourists ogle them while unconscious. ("Look Herbert, it’s snoring! And you can see it’s weenie!")

And it was just the self-righteous tone of this ACRES society which made me feel all worked up. These seem like people who think, "Isn’t this so noble?!" and feel immensely gratified by the media attention they receive after that. The news at nine showed a bunch of four people trying to look casual (but glamorous of course, darling!) handing out what I can only suppose are ‘Have You Seen This Tiger In Your Basement?" flyers to befuddled residents. (The reason that they’re not more than five is because they ‘might constitute an unlawful assembly" You’re an unlawful assembly if you’re going to do something UNLAWFUL. Idiots!)

Asked how they were going to locate this fictitious tiger, the ‘President’ sagely said "Tiger urine smells very pungent. I think we can smell it."

So now he’s Lassie too?

Is he going to stand around outside people’s houses (no warrant, no entry!) and inhale deeply, hoping for that elusive whiff of Captive Tiger Pee? Will his spidey senses start tingling of a random waft of ammonia crosses his SuperNostrils? ("Sir, you have a tiger in the house! I can smell it!" "No, I just drank too much Hoegaarten last night.")

God spare us from idiots like that.

I like one uncle’s response best when asked about the plausibility of someone keeping a tiger in Sixth Avenue. "Aiyah, I don’t think so lah! Got maid, sure will talk one what!" Yeah, uncle got it right in one. Never doubt the efficacy of the Lucky Plaza grapevine. ("If Sir ask me to clean up tiger shit one more time, I quit and go back to Manila!")

Assuming that they find this tiger, what will they do when they find it? Will they liberate it and put it in the backseat of their car and drive off to release it into its native home, the wilds of Malaysia, where some rubber tapper will probably shoot it for it’s pretty and valuable hide when it goes over to ask for its evening meal of kibble? And how do they propose to take the poor thing away from it’s loving owner? I can just imagine the scene: see: four ACRES bleeding hearts in the basement of some CEO’s Sixth avenue house standing in front of the massive tiger cage.

"Gimme that tiger!"
"Okay."
Click. Ka-chunk. Door opens.
Pause.
"RUN! RUN YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!"

Note in the scenario above that must be not more than four ACRES bleeding hearts because five might constitute an unlawful assembly. These people remind of a story by Mercedes Lackey called ‘Last Rights’, where a bunch of bleeding hearts decide to liberate a bunch of poor defenseless dinosaurs. Go read the story here here :

Someone very dear to me once told me to levy idiot tax on idiots. I could be lighting up my Marlboros with thousand-dollar bills at this rate.

On a more serious note, keeping a tiger as a pet is no joke. Look this place to see how they do it.

Anyway, I gotta go and earn my living as a legal eagle, born and bred in captivity. Anyone want to liberate me?

The Slinky Cat sharpens her claws on only the best furniture.