Far in the distance, his chateau stands next to the lake and forest. Beyond that, his wounded tiger is lying down in its massive enclosure, in pain.
Gulping, I stretch my cold fingers in my fine gloves. More thunder rumbles and raindrops start to fall. I look up, and the rain starts to really come down. “Oh God, no!” I say as Harry walks back down.
He avoids my eyes, leaps over the car’s door, and puts the Jag in gear.
Harry pushes through the gears as we streak along the private road and through the rain. We drive quickly up to the front of the chateau, the steady rain coming straight down.
William walks quickly towards us, and he instructs a staff member to drive the Jag into the garage.
Harry and I walk to a man with William. The man carries surgical gloves, and he and Harry exchange a glance.
“How do you want it, Harry?”
“Fast and hard,” my man says as if some warrior.
I try to process the madness and keep up. It’s hard. Who on earth can demand pain like that? Unless there’s a reason and he cares more about his tiger’s pain than his own.
“Tusk is abnormally strong, and you and I have seen him grow since he was a cub. We’ve all monitored his health well, and we’ve done it for years.”
“I understand. Please. Get to the point.”
“The thing is, Harry. It looks like a year, maybe two back, he had some stomach issue. And that started to develop, spread and complicate, unseen. No one’s fault, just jolly bad luck.”
I reach for Harry’s gloved hand, but he pulls it back.
He then crosses his arms, walling the pain in the falling rain. Trying to be alone.
“He won’t make it, Harry, and surgery won’t do a thing. Five major organs have been penetrated. He is, for lack of a better way to put it, riddled with the disease.”
I watch Harry’s jaw tighten, and he looks across his lake. My heart breaks for him, but also for the beautiful large creature I started to love.
“I advise we increase the dose, and well, give him a send-off.”
“No chance?” Harry asks as if now in some distant place.
“No chance, Sir.”
A lone tear runs down his high-boned cheek. Harry nods long and slow, and he looks to the old British vet. “Thanks. Can you do me one last favor?”
“Anything!”
“Take everything you have and leave. I need him alone.”
“Harry, are you?—”
“Tusk is my responsibility, and the pain stops now. I will dispatch him, and fast.”
The old vet, Harry, and William exchange cold emotionless looks. The vet then nods, getting it.
“William, get the Land Rover ready. You know what else.”
“Sir,” William says, walking off in the rain.
Harry walks inside the chateau fast as if he has an inevitable job to do.
“Babe?” I say, running and trying to catch up.
Inside, Harry walks through the marble lobby. Under the great winding stairs, he enters the coat and boot room. He then steps up to a wall.
