The
voice on the phone was crisp and wide awake. "This is Dr. Laohu.
Do you know who I am?"
"Of course," I said. "You're that famous tiger researcher at the Vancouver Zoo. Most people call you Dr. Tiger 'cause your name--Laohu--means tiger in Chinese."
Dr. Tiger chuckled. "You're not as sleepy as you sound. I'm sending you a fax right now. Do you see it?"
"Good
Lord," I said, looking at the fax. "Is this tiger in a leg trap?"
"That's right," said Dr. Tiger. "That tiger lives in Royal Bengal Tiger Reserve in India. Two days ago, a Forest Service field officer found this tiger in the trap. We need to tell the world what's going on there. And you're just the journalist to do it."
"Me? Why me?"
"You know your way around India. You speak Hindi. And you'll do anything to help save the tiger. Am I right?"
I frowned. He was right. But was I up to the job? I'd spent ten years as a journalist in India, photographing tigers in my spare time. When I left to pursue other assignments, I figured I'd be back soon. But I never returned to India--except in my dreams.
"Dr. Tiger," I finally said,
© Tiger Information Center