'Sorry!' I mutter, unsure why I'm apologizing.

Sasha blinks at me then quickly rouses herself, reaching for the ignition. 'We're going to be late!'

'Are you all right? Do you want me to drive?'

'I'm fine!' she says, briskly perpetrating a tire-scuffing U-turn.

I open my mouth to emit a plat.i.tude, something like, 'Don't worry, Sasha, I know you're scared but I'll be your real-life guardian angel.'

Instead I find myself saying, 'Did you know that one in four people experience some form of mental illness in their life?'

'What did you say?' Sasha winds up her window to silence the rushing wind. 'One in four people what?'

I can't believe I said that out loud. 'Are allergic to cats,' I lie.

'I wonder if there are any statistics about the number of cats that are allergic to people?' Sasha muses, with a certain poignancy to her voice.

I laugh. 'I wonder.'

'I mean, it's possible, isn't it? Maybe that's all it was. Just an allergy.'

'All what was?'

Sasha's face clouds over again. I'm losing her.

'Sasha?'

'It's ... I ...' she flounders and fails to find the words to express her angst.

I can't finish her sentence for her. I have no idea what she is trying to say. But I'm sure she'll feel better once we get there. Actually, I'm not sure of that at all, but I can hope.

Finally we spy the sign: TIGER TIGER. A NON-PROFIT RETREAT FOR RETIRED ANIMAL ACTORS.

'Hey we're going to see celebrities before Zo, how weird is that?' I try and make a joke.

Sasha slams on the brakes so hard my seatbelt locks and gives me a diagonal garroting. I've had smoother rides in a b.u.mper car.

'They won't like me,' she blurts, experiencing a resurgence of nerves.

Before I can a.s.sure her that everyone warms to her once they get over wanting to believe that she's a vain 'n' vacuous ice queen, she adds, 'Animals don't like me.'

I want to laugh but decide against it.

'What makes you say that?' I ask.

'It's true. They can tell-' she halts herself.

'Tell what?'

Sasha looks as if she's about to retreat into her catatonic state. No pun intended. I have to do something.

'Gosh look at that!' I say, praying for something to leap into my sight line so I can follow through.

'What?'

'I think I just saw a ...' I scrabble out of the car as if I'm tracking something in the foliage.

'Oh my G.o.d, yes!' Sasha joins me. 'He's looking right at us!' She shrinks behind me.

I can't believe she can actually see my imaginary distraction. Where is it? Suddenly I lock sights with a pair of golden eyes. Benevolent rather than predatory, they seem to be saying, Oh, it's you!

'That's Ryan,' a voice comes from behind us. 'Our VIP guest. He's a liger that's half lion, half tiger.'

Now his expression seems to be saying, I know, I don't get it either.

We turn to find a cozy-looking brunette. 'I'm Carrie,' she smiles, warmly shaking our hands.

I can see the relief on Sasha's face: thank goodness there's going to be someone nurturing around.

'It's actually pretty good timing you being here this week,' Carrie continues. 'I have to go to San Francisco to try and raise some funds-'

'When do you leave?' Sasha panics before Carrie even finishes her sentence.

'Day after tomorrow. I'll be gone a coupla days so Ty will welcome an extra pair of hands.'

Sasha's fretful look returns.

'How about I give you a little tour of the place before it gets too dark?'

I nod on Sasha's behalf.

'We'll start with Freddie. He's the devil himself, it'll be all downhill after that.'

I try to give Sasha a comforting look but I'm feeling a little nervous myself now.

Here kitty, kitty, kitty...

Chapter 15.

'We're not too picturesque yet,' Carrie warns us as she raises the horseshoe clip on the gate and grinds it open. 'This is actually a disused water plant. Go ahead...'

She motions us through the wire fencing and suddenly we're met with a writhing ma.s.s of leopard spots, like an animal print Magic Eye. I blink, trying to correct my vision.

'I've never seen so many cats in one place!' Sasha tries to take it all in.

'We've got sixteen leopards, a mix of Northern Chinese and Asian, the Asian are the smaller ones ...' Carrie points over to a pair hanging back from the group. 'Those two were in a Brooke Shields movie called Born Wild.'

'Oh wow!' I haven't seen it but I'm sure it's an impressive thing to have on your resume.

'They're all entertainment cats, born and bred in captivity.'

'Is that a panther?' Sasha enquires.

'Black leopard,' Carrie corrects her. 'You can see his markings better if the sun shines directly on him.'

We squint at his self-patterned fur, just about making out the dark chocolate spots.

'Is he going grey?' Sasha notes the tufts of silver over his nose.

'Yeah a couple of them are getting old now and osteoporosis is setting in.'

It's then that we notice the stiff arched spines like a humpbacked bridge and wince in sympathy.

'This one looks in his prime, though,' I say, pointing to the sleek individual who's keeping a keen eye on us.

'That's Freddie.'

'Freddie as in Kruger?' Sasha gulps spotting his flick-knife claws.

'He went out on the road with Janet Jackson for her Rhythm Nation Tour.'

'Really?' Zo would love this! I wonder if the cats have evening get-togethers and swap celeb stories under the stars.

'Freddie runs this camp.' Carrie sounds suitably respectful. 'He's top cat.'

'The indisputable leader of the gang' plays in my head.

'Why is that one separate?' Sasha nods over to a black leopard with a mangled ear, restlessly prowling and hissing, clearly peeved at being barred from the party.

'With leopards there can be only one leader,' Carrie explains. 'Freddie and Malachi like to tango if we'd left them in together one of them would have died.'

As if to prove her point, Malachi flares up and hurls himself at the caging. My heart goes out to him, it just doesn't seem fair. 'Can't you divide up the rest of the leopards so they get a gang each?' I suggest.

Carrie smiles and shakes her head. Malachi skulks into his shabby wooden hut and then sticks his head up through a rip in the roof.

'We build them nice boxes but they just tear them apart.' Carrie shrugs, moving on.

'Here's Ryan again.' Carrie bows to the liger. He gives us a regal nod which seems to say: Charmed, but please don't put on any airs and graces on my behalf.

I love him! Even at this early stage in the tour I know he's going to be my favorite.

'How come he's a liger not a tion?' I ask hoping it's not too stupid a question.

'Actually it's tigon that's when you've got a tiger father, lion mother. Ryan is the other way round, hence liger.'

'I seeeee!' I nod. 'He's a big guy, isn't he?'

'Eight hundred pounds.'

'What?' I reel.

'Just as well he's not a lap cat, huh?' Carrie laughs, leading us to the next cage. This is Tyson.'

I gulp at the sight of the stocky, power-packed tiger. 'You wouldn't want to mess with him!'

'No you wouldn't,' Carrie confirms. 'He used to belong to Mike Tyson!'

He's not the only bruiser in the pack. Several of the tigers appear pumped-up and ready to rumble while others are slender and demure. I'm intrigued by how much their coats vary in color from soft golden syrup tones to burnt orange sunsets and, most dramatic of all, pure white with licorice stripes.

'That's Syntar, our white Bengal tiger,' Carrie sounds suitably proud.

He's stunning. I'd defy anyone not to get tingles looking into those sapphire blue eyes.

'He's been used a lot for calendars and photoshoots but only facially the back end of his body has a yellowy tinge that's no good for full body shots. Not in Hollywood, anyway.'

Sasha takes a step forward. She knows what it's like to be admired only for your looks, to be scrutinized and then dismissed for the slightest flaw. They'll get along great. Beauty and the Beauty.

We continue down the open-air corridor pa.s.sing large cages either side with just the odd paddling pool, tree stump or potted plant breaking up the yards of sandy earth and wire meshing. I'm just wondering how many of these cats would trade what essentially is a s.p.a.cious squat for a penthouse at the zoo when Carrie opens another gate and we step out into a dusty wasteland backed by distant mountains. Other than a row of clapped-out cars, a tractor and a random scattering of rusty tools, it's just flat, dry earth as far as the eye can see.

'We've got two acres up at the back here. The idea is to build a free-roaming area with trees and waterfalls where the cats can take it in turns to run and play.'

'Like a day out at the park?' Sasha suggests.

'Paradise Park!' I suggest a name for it.

'Why not!' Carrie smiles. 'We're trying to raise the funds to get it landscaped.'

'You should charge more for your tours is it really just $5?'

'Yeah, but until it's prettied up there's not much to see,' she admits, tugging up a tangle of weeds. 'Listen, you girls must be tired, I'll introduce you to the rest of the cats tomorrow.'

Carrie turns to lead us back to the house.

'What's through here?' I point to a gate with a NO ENTRY sign. 'If you don't mind me asking.'

Carrie hesitates then reaches for the padlock. 'These are a few of our special friends,' she says, voice softening. 'The ones that have been rescued. They're not so used to being around people so we keep them in a quieter area.'

'Oh we don't have to-' I feel bad for being so nosy.

'It's fine, just don't make any sudden moves and if they turn their a.s.s towards you and lift their tail, make sure you jump to the side it's like skunk spray and it goes back a good few meters so there's no point in running backwards!'