I filmed much of it, hoping to give him a memento of one of Roy’s jumps besides the light scarring on his mangled right knee. But Roy behaved like a kitten, not even attempting an attack, just trotting mellowly and politely along the trails, responding with affection whenever Mick drew close. (Roy, like all cats, showed he liked you by bumping his head against yours—not fun if it’s an English soccer fan, only marginally more so with a puma.) At the end of the afternoon walk, Mick said goodbye to Roy, ending his heroically long six-week stint with him. Mick’s eyes were watery as he walked away, but I didn’t feel like even gently mocking him. In truth, I was perplexed by his apparent love for this ill-tempered animal. I had loved many animals in the past, more than I could count, but apart from the benign contact of pets (none of them larger than Bunty the sheep) it had always been at a distance. I knew that the lions and elephants I’d observed daily in Botswana might kill me if I approached them, but they would never hurt you out of malice; they don’t recognise that we feel, so they can’t intentionally inflict pain or fear.
What do You think about How To Walk A Puma (2011)?
