General

The orange-gold of the tiger, with its black velvet artist stripes, was a proud sight amid the tall grasses and sunbathing rocks.

General

There is something about the tiger, a poem of liberty in its genes, a sense that it was born to roam and breathe clean air all of its days and nights.

General

The tiger was chocolate spread on marmalade, as if God had infused paddington bear with a kitty cat and made it every bit as splendid as its lion cousins.

General

Shining from those golden eyes was a knowledge of this wild place and a sense that it was all the home a tiger could ever wish for.