Secret Tampa Bay Bonus Content: Lions and Tigers and Servals, Oh My!

 

Originally I planned to include this chapter about Big Cat Rescue. Jen and I had gone on a tour there previously - it's located in Citrus Park just about ten minutes from where we live. Unfortunately, in response to both the COVID-19 global pandemic and, as I was told by staff there, to a certain Netflix show, the organization decided to close its doors for tours out of concern for both animals and humans. Consequently this was one of the chapters I opted to trim from Secret Tampa Bay, as I felt it made more sense to focus more on things and places that people can see for themselves. Perhaps one day it will reopen to the public. Until then, you can visit the cats virtually and via my description here.

Lions and Tigers and Servals, Oh My!

Where can you find Tampa’s most unique and exclusive retirement community?

Founded in November of 1992 just miles from Downtown Tampa, Big Cat Rescue is one of the world’s largest accredited sanctuaries for exotic cats—including lions, tigers, leopards, lynx, servals, bobcats, cougars, ocelots, and caracals—who live out the rest of their nine lives peacefully on 67 sunny acres in the Citrus Park neighborhood.

A nonprofit 501(c)3 charity, Big Cat Rescue is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries and includes full-time homes for big cats as well as rehab and medical facilities, a rotational “vacation” area, and a “kitten cabana” for socializing and supporting smaller cats.

Residents at Big Cat Rescue come from a wide variety of backgrounds and circumstances, some abandoned or abused by owners, others retired from performing acts or rescued from being made into fur coats. Still others, whose names have been changed, are there as part of what might be called “the feline witness protection program,” having been seized during raids or drug busts and now awaiting trial … as evidence.

Some of Big Cat Rescue’s more famous inhabitants include Zabu the white tiger, Kali the tiger, Cameron the lion, and of course Pharaoh and Tonga—the only two white servals known in existence anywhere on earth.

In addition to providing a home and care for its animals, Big Cat Rescue is involved in championing legislation to end the ownership and trade of exotic felines in the private sector. The bill, known as the Big Cat Public Safety Act (H.R. 3546) is currently in the US House of Representatives.

Other local animal encounters include the Suncoast Primate Sanctuary in Palm Harbor, Golden Spirit Alpaca Ranch in Odessa, Gypsy Gold Farm for horses in Ocala, and ZooTampa at Lowry Park.

Paws and Appreciate What: Big Cat Rescue Where: 12802 Easy St., Tampa Cost: In person tours are not currently being offered.   Pro Tip: There are numerous ways to get involved and support Big Cat Rescue’s mission, from donations to email campaigns to volunteer and internship positions. Visit its website for more information.

Valhalla Can Wait

“Hey…. Pssst… Hey, are you awake?...”

It’s the voice of my friend Steve, cutting through the pre-dawn darkness. As kids, during any sleepover, I was usually the one, lying on the red fold-out seat, who could talk until the first shades of deep purple spread like a bruise across the sky, whereas Steve would be asleep and snoring like clockwork within a half hour lying down. Death, it seems, has reversed our roles and it is now my friend who possesses the sort of boundless late-night energy that he did not have in life.

“Hey… are you there?... Wake up.”

I mumble something along the lines of, “do you know what time it is?” but consciousness is seeping in, under my eyelids. Somewhere in the back of my brain an engine sputters a few times and finally kicks on to those two words.

Wake up.

Mmmuumph, hmm, what? I must have dozed off, my index finger still between the pages of a book I was reading. At some point during the night my wife must have turned off the lights and a small warm, furry creature, Tinker Bell, has relocated from being in the crook of my armpit to laying on her back with my left ankle as her pillow.

Some thirty years on from my childhood, it’s a lot harder to keep my eyes open. Sleep is no longer the enemy it was back then. It’s taken the form of a Valkyrie, ready to lift me gently from my body and carry me off to some version of paradise. The temptation to drift back off is so strong, all the more reason I have to ball my hands into fists, dig my fingernails into my palms and summon all my resolve. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, rise and stumble down the hall to my office, managing to bang my shins only a couple times before sitting back down in front of the computer, to stare at a blank page.

I consider anew just how easy it is to go back to sleep. Even as I start typing and working on an upcoming presentation, a big one, I know in some ways though I’m already sleep-walking again. That story of how grief became a catalyst and how I came to reawaken to the wonder of the world around me, after nearly three years has been refined and told so often that I could recite it in my sleep. Which means that I am probably doing just that - the story of waking up has itself become a sort of lullaby mantra, luring me back into a different version of the same trance I fought so hard to break free from.

I’ve made a start though. A good start. I’ve put three books on the shelf and I’m into a fourth. Wrote a ghost tour and working on others. But it’s neither the time nor the place to plant a flag, it’s just the first basecamp and the summit is a long way off in the distance. A start, even the very best of starts, is still just a start. Time now to stop starting and start in on the second act. The climb gets steeper from here, the oxygen gets thinner and there are fewer footsteps to follow.

The Valkyrie isn’t going anywhere. Over my shoulder, I can sense her disapproval of my efforts – she thinks I should just call it a night and be satisfied with what I’ve accomplished. And with what's left unfinished. She doesn't say any this, of course, she doesn't have to - she’s the strong, silent type. Though she is in virtually every way the inverse of my friend Steve, she is no less a member of my party; with me now for the duration of the journey.

Time to delve deeper, to push myself harder, to stay awake and stay focused. There are strange lands yet to traverse and wonders waiting to be revealed before I’m ready to cash in whatever cred I’ve earned as a seeker.

Valhalla, at least for now, is just going to have to wait.