Tonight, I lie here in my bed--my stomach filled with lamb and delicious homemade yorkshire pudding, my bed occupied by a snoring tabby cat (please refer to earlier posts to read more about apneatic cat). And I suddenly I have this brilliant idea: I'm going to find the ever-evasive Tasmanian Tiger.
People--mainly Australians--joke. When Natalie and I have told them we're going to Tasmania, they often respond with something along the lines of, "Oh really? Well keep an eye out for that Tassie Tiger,eh?" They laugh a little. Chuckle. Giggle, even.
Little do they know...
...Call me crazy (although I'd prefer the term "zealously determined"). I don't care that the last Tassie Tiger known to man was the good ol', yet poorly mistreated, "Benjamin" of the Hobart Zoo who died in 1936. I don't care that most believe this half-rodent, half-tiger look-a-like to be extinct--that it's some myth of the past. I know there's a Tassie Tiger out there somewhere, perhaps hidden among the many, many, many eucalyptus trees...and I'm going after it. Note: We are on an island, after all; there are only so many places a tiger can go.
Stay posted for updates on my latest quest. I promise not to disappoint.
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