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Sita's Story

Sita's Story

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Published by NZLionman2009

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Published by: NZLionman2009 on Apr 19, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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This is my daughter’s story. My oldest child. I’m going to tell it. From my point of viewand hers. I want everyone to remember her. Remember her who she was.As my daughter, as a Princess and as a sister.As Sita.
The Beginning
“My tongue was rough against Sita’s fur. My second baby. My first daughter. I cleaned her happily, andfor the first time this year, being a good mother, to my newborn cub. She squeaked as I finished cleaningher. She silenced though as I picked her up and put her inside the box. Sita seemed happy with therearrangements and so was I. I lay down in the back of the box, behind her but close to her. I fed herhappily, sleeping all the while, sleeping through the night.”
“I don’t remember my first days in the world but my Mother does. Ican speak from my first few months and I enjoy learning about my beginningfrom the only person who would know. My Mother is a Mother with a happy daughter.”
“That’s what she would always say to me; whenever she asked me to tell her the story of thebeginning of her life my Sita would always say that. It made me love her even more the more she said it. Imiss her so.Sita’s markings were nothing like mine. They were wilder. More free. Her teeth were sharp littlethings, and so were her claws. I had a beautiful daughter. She had individuality. For her markings werenothing like her father’s either. But they were like her brother’s. My son. My oldest child. He died whenhe was a week old; I rolled over in my sleep and suffocated him. I remember him. She reminds me of mylost son. That’s why I wanted to be a better Mum to my baby girl. She was a stunner and I love her.She couldn’t see at the time, but she could move. She walked around the pen without knowing. Iguided her and watched her in a motherly way. In a loving way.I was very, very protective of her. Sita was my world. Whenever the owner of the park came tosee I would protect her in case she was taken away from me. Craig tried to lift her not long after she wasborn, to find whether she was a she or if she was a he. But I wouldn’t let him. As soon as I saw her in hisarms I pulled her down and licked her, Craig backed off then.In time, at the end of her first week on Earth Sita opened her eyes, her sparkling blue eyes. Shehad grown and she recognised me. Soon we had a close, very, close bond.”
“My Mother has told you the first week of my life. Wait until you hear the rest!”
“I’ll tell her story to anyone who will listen. I won’t stop. That’s why I’m here putting our story,her story in words, from the pads of our paws, hers and mine in the soil of the ground, so you can read itand remember Sita how she was.When Sita started to recognise me I could see what she could see. Happiness. We were happy.But we didn’t know that Craig was considering taking her away from me, to hand raise my baby.My trust was gaining in him. I let him hug Sita and hold her. But Sita still didn’t have her name.We were all learning what her personality was like. Timid and gentle, but strong and wild.Playful. That was how she got her name. Sita.Sita was to stay with me, not to be taken away. We were both learning, learning to be a family. Asmall one but a good one.By the time it was decided she was to stay with me Sita was up and about. Running around thepen and everything. I was learning how to discipline her and play gently with her.The more we played the stronger our bond became and soon Sita was going outside.She wasn’t taken outside very often but she loved every second of it. She was learning what theoutside world was like and how to act. But before long, the pen we were in for her birth was too small forus. We moved into my fist pen. The pen. Our home.This was where things got a little out of hand.”
Tiger Princess
“Sita was a tiger princess. Heir to the throne of the Orange Bengal Tigers. There was just the twoof us. But she’d be queen of Tigers. We were hopefully going to have more tigers like us in the park.When we moved into the pen, Sita’s second home, Sita was unsure and it was up to me to showher.Her blue eyes still shone in the light of the sun and she loved water. We were sprayed every daywith water from a hose or the rain.Sita wasn’t sure about our neighbours either.
Next door, in one of the pens was her father. A Royal White Bengal Tiger. The King of the tigers.Tygo. Sita, like me, carried the white gene and if she mated with either male that was on our other side,who like her father were both Royal White Bengal Tiers there would be a chance of a white tiger cub.On our other side were three Royal White Bengal Tigers. Not related, they’d just been handraised together.Rewa. The Queen of the Royal White Bengal Tigers was the only female. She was a wind upmerchant alright. She wound the boys up. Abu was one of the males. He won the fights with the othermale Jahdu, who always, always seemed to get hurt. I just hoped they wouldn’t fight too much in front of my baby.We had visitors to the park one day, Sita was about four months old. She still had blue eyes. Shehad grown too. Just below the top of my legs I think. Perhaps a bit smaller.At the end of the visit I was lay down beside the bars, playing with my daughter when Craig andthe two men came to see us. Me and the newest resident in the park.I accepted their company quickly and let them pet me through the bars, but Sita. She waspractically stood on me. She wanted to be centre of attention. They accepted her quickly and she didn’tstop until they left. It definitely showed who she was.Time moved on. Sita grew and her eyes changed to brown, they glowed. She was wilder, biggerand stronger, and more affectionate.She was bold with our neighbours and didn’t run away when they came to the bars or whenJahdu and Abu started fighting. She roared in return now and rubbed herself against the bars when shedared.She was what I thought her brother would be like, but a female version. A very beautiful version.Soon she was eight months old and still growing. Craig went to Africa then. A whole monthwithout him, a whole month of madness.By madness I mean madness. Sita was crazy, wild, confident, the most since she was born. Westill held a close bond but she was ahead of time.Sita used me as her prey when she started to learn to hunt. She would pounce on meunexpectedly. Off the box, from around the corner. Everywhere. It was too bad Craig couldn’t see her.I put her in her place though, pushing her away, or down whichever was easier. If she’s jumpedon me off the box I’d automatically lift my paw and push her down. She learnt in time.When Craig returned with two loin cubs I was pregnant again, Tygo was the father again. Wehad to call the vet to check, but I didn’t notice, and neither did Sita, we went on living our life.Instead of the hoses to soak us Craig had ordered three troughs, one for each pen. Sita inspectedours, the round, big thing, that’s what she called it. But she wasn’t sure about it. One look and I knewthat it was water. I went over to help and show Sita. I climbed in with my daughter after me and we had aball in the trough, and Sita had her first swim.

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