Written on 25 April 2019
During a particularly brisk stroll through the walled gardens at Hever castle, Alfred spotted a tiger cub, around the size of a staffy or a rather large Maine coon, feasting greedily on the carcass of a dead seagull.
He imagined just for a moment taking the tiger home to Gillingham with him. Raising him in his one bed bungalow. Cuddling with him on the sofa. Feeding him fish fingers and marmite sandwiches. Truly loving him. And, once he was fully grown, setting him on his enemies. Taking them out one by one. Like a tiger ninja and his wiley stealthy human compadre.
Then he corrected his dosage of anti-psychosis meds and went back to observing the peonies.