DON’T STEP ON MY TIGER

I recently wanted to add a comment to a blog which responded by asking me to identify myself. The comment box asked for a little known unusual fact about me. I responded with a 118 word narrative to find that this became my comment on the blog submission . It was completely off base, but I rather liked it so I post it here.

DON’T STEP ON MY TIGER.
When I was very young, I had a pet tiger. He did everything with me. I was fond and protective of him and annoyed when people stepped into his space. That’s until my parents banished him. They said that it was unhealthy for a child to have an imaginary friend. A little later I remember their look of horror and behind-door whispering when I brought home my first art class creation. It was, of course, a clay model of a tiger. He sat with his tail sticking straight up into the air. I treasured him but when we moved houses he disappeared. Now, an old lady with Parkinson’s, I can hallucinate him back into my presence. No-one complains.