When I returned home I found my tiger’s footprints everywhere. I kicked fresh earth over the tracks and smoothed the ground. “The tiger’s print is most specific, it cannot be confused with any other animal, even a dog,” my father had told me. He showed the tiger’s two clefts in the rear of the pad. “The dog does not have these clefts. It is a simple track to follow.”
My tiger’s presence would also be detected by father’s hunting dogs. At a point so close to the dogs’ own territory, where they fed and had marked as their own, there would be mayhem roused by my tiger’s showing.
My only hope was for Father to come home exhausted after the dipping and seek rest. If this happened, then perhaps my tiger would only be chased on by the dogs.
“Dogs will not attack a tiger on their own.” My fathe
