Grab a light bulb and make like a William Blake poem.
or a giraffe.
Maul the first person I hear say “flying spaghetti monster”.
I have a bad feeling that I’m about to get shot. A tiger in the city isn’t going to last too long.
The zoo is about a mile away from here. I have no idea if their “escaped animal” kit is full of nice tranquilizers, or high powered rifles. All I can think of is to head to the zoo and hope it is the former.
If I make it through the capture, it’ll be pretty funny when they realize they now have an extra mystery tiger. I’d imagine I can pass a few weeks eating yummy steaks and messing with the zookeeper’s heads. Eventually I need to make my situation a bit clearer, so I can start at least seeing my family again.
I’ve got another one:
I’m going to have custom tailored red polo shirts and black slacks and screw every cocktail waitress that will have me.
Refuse to eat the young man so he can still marry the (admittedly jealous) princess.
I’d be totally and completely shameless - suck up to humans whenever possible, do basic math equations, roar out various songs. Eventually I’d reveal myself as human, but not before getting a lot of press coverage.
To be honest, though, it would probably be pretty torturous if you still had a human mind. Knowing all the conveniences and intricacies of modern life, yet not being able to really participate in them. I’ve often looked jealously at my cat lounging on the radiator cover when I have to get out of bed on Monday morning, but never for long - if you had human intelligence, that kind of lifestyle would drive you insane.
I’m thinking break into a house, find something portable like cardboard, find something I can do fingerpaints with like ketchup, and mark out the best message I can. “Paws up don’t shoot,” maybe. Or maybe my name. Put the cardboard outside the window I broke in through, or maybe hold it in my mouth facing front so someone approaching me will see it. Do my best to communicate that I’m intelligent and not planning on eating anyone.
I work my hardest to become a celebrity.
Grumpy cat became famous for frowning. I’ll become famous by sneaking to Bondi beach and writing “Gimme Tuna” in the sand.
On the offchance there is a shark around, I’ll doggy (kitty?) paddle to it on a surfboard, then dice it up with my claws and drag it to shore. Youtube is now mine.
Edit: I can has global adoration?
Smooches
I’m WAY too far from any unpopulated areas so I head to the nearest park and sit my ass down and wait for the nice people from the zoo to come for me lest I get shot.
Maybe do some tricks to pass the time so people will see I’m friendly.
Then when I’m at the zoo and no longer a threat I start making contact, tapping out the prime numbers with my paw until someone notices, scratching out messages, pantomime, whatever it takes.
As a kid some sixty years ago, I had the impression from the book’s illustrations that Sambo and his family were African blacks: which had me thinking, “this is wrong – they don’t have tigers in Africa.” I became aware much later, that the author was based in India, and wrote the book in an essentially Indian context: maybe I or that particular illustrator, or both, had things mixed-up?
Well, first off, I don’t think I stand any chance of getting to somewhere that tigers can really hack it in the wild. On the upside, locals aren’t the type to freak out and shoot wildlife for no reason, so I’d probably edge carefully and quietly back towards the suburbs, hoping to get caught and put in a zoo.
The Toronto Zoo is pretty nice, do they have tigers already? Looks like yes, which brings up another question; just what species of tiger am I?
Anyway, once I’m in the zoo, I’ll probably be thinking of some ways to amuse the visitors more than ordinary tiger antics.
rawrrr.
Say hello to Suzie for me
First thing going through my mind: if somebody calls the cops I may get shot by some trigger happy jackass even if I’m not acting threatening. I should hide.
Second thing: if somebody finds out I’m a thinking tiger, I’m bound to be subject to experimentation or worse.
Third thing: I would suck as a wild animal. I don’t like the wild, I’m bound to catch any illness big cats get, I’d be besieged by poachers trying to sell my gonads to Chinese businessmen, I can’t kill a fly… I need to get to a zoo.
So, I’d try to get somewhere where I don’t look too threatening, like inside a house, or something. Act innocent and expect that somebody’s got enough brains to call the zoo. Use my smarts to become the alpha of the pride, mate with female tigers, teach my intelligent offspring to hide their brains and prepare the eventual overthrowing of the hairless apes. Thus, the reign of the Homo Felidae starts.
But tigers don’t have prides…
I’m a tiger now? That’s Gr-r-reat! Think I’ll make a deal to be a mascot for Kellogg’s.
yeah well, you try finding a therapist willing to make house calls in some cursed jungle!
You’d have self-esteem issues also!