The look in the tigers’ eye was one of misery, as he slept near the entrance of the makeshift cage in the city zoo.  As I peered at him through the bars I could tell he had had it hard. I wondered what had happened to him to give him this tormented look.  Had he been abused by his captors or lost his mate?

I watched as the zoo-keeper fed the poised beast. The tiger took the leg of meat and sunk his sharp fangs into it, tearing it apart. He then proceeded to lick the bone and then he washed himself. This didn’t change the fact that he was a prisoner being peered at by passers-by. He was once a great hunter, self reliant, self sufficient, and free to roam the wilderness as he pleased. 

That’s the look that’s in his eye, yes, it is hopelessness. He's yearning to break free, to live a life without control. He’s not a spectacle to be glared at. He is a proud and strong creature, created by the same God that created us all.  He needs not to be chained and confined. He needs to run free, catching his own food.