I wonder where all the tigers went. Why are there no others like me? Why are there only bunnies, geese, and pigs to stare and be scared of me?
Sometimes I let my imagination go free. I like to think that my father was the Emperor of China, and my mother was the Empress. That would make me the Empress of China one day. One day, when I'm older, I can leave this place.
I imagine that they ruled fairly and justly, and that the whole nation prospered under their rule. But that they were betrayed, yes, betrayed by the multitudes of bunnies and geese and pigs that were jealous. Jealous of their success.
Jealous of their beautiful stripes.
Jealous of their beautiful claws.
Jealous of them.
Jealous of the Emperor and Empress of China.
So they were killed by the great mobs, and they must have been about to kill me, but one of their friends, yes, a trustworthy friend of my parents, took me away from them. They ran and ran, clutching me in their arms.
Clutching me, the Empress of China.
But they knew that they were being followed, that the mobs of bunnies and geese and pigs would never stop following me. So he dropped me off here, in this place, while he ran off in another direction, attracting the mobs to him.
That is what I like to think sometimes.
That I'm the Empress. Empress of China.
And then come the dark days when I can't muster the courage to get out of bed in the morning. On those days, I let the truth set in. But I don't want it to. I don't want to accept it. I don't want to accept that my parents were too poor to take care of me. I wanted them to be the Emperor and Empress.
That way I would be an Empress. I could be Tigress, Empress of China.