Another Reason I Don't Keep a Pet Tiger

Go ahead, you tell him to get down off the furniture. Photo: Diamond Paint Art

“No, you’re not hallucinating; those squirrels are for sale as pets.” I always enjoyed it when visitors to Seville performed double takes in front of my neighborhood pet shop during its brief stint as squirrel vendor. “And they’re not cheap; they run $50 apiece.”
 
Instantly visiting Americans would look thoughtful, pondering how to turn their own pests into profits, wondering aloud, “What do you figure it costs to ship squirrels? Just asking.”
 
I used to joke about buying one as a companion for my dog, letting the animals exercise each other chasing around my apartment. But years earlier I’d learned the hard way why this was a truly terrible idea. When one bold, unlucky squirrel ventured into our Ohio home, our dog sprang into chase mode. Several days of furniture-crashing pandemonium ensued, ending very badly indeed for the squirrel. I wasn’t inclined to pay $50 to repeat that experience.
​

via GIPHY

(This is not actual footage, but it captures the spirit of the dog vs. squirrel incident.)

​No matter how cute they are, wild animals rarely make good pets. I recently ran across the article “Tragic Stories of Exotic Pet Ownership Gone Wrong,” and you won’t be surprised to learn that chimpanzees, pythons, and black bears can cause a lot more damage to your home (and to you and your kids) than a rampaging squirrel. Which is why I was somewhat stunned last week to learn that a neighbor here in Seville used to keep a pet tiger.
 
José María Lassaleta was an explorer, adventurer and zookeeper, and in the 1970s, after retiring as director of the zoo in nearby Jerez de la Frontera, he adopted an aging, ailing tiger and brought him to live in Seville.

​The arrival of the tiger as a household pet caused the biggest sensation since the Sultan of Egypt sent the Spanish Princess Berenguela a live crocodile as a courting gift in 1260. People lined up in in front of Lassaleta’s home on Amparo Street and cheered whenever the big cat sprawled out onto the balcony to take some sun.

Even old and ill, José María Lassaleta's tiger was impressive.

​My mind boggles at what it must have taken to manage a tiger at home. For a start, these are whopping great animals, weighing up to 660 pounds, and their idea of a nice, light supper is 80 pounds of raw meat. That’s a lot of hamburger to haul home every day.
 
Don’t worry, that cute white dog in the photo was never intended to serve as an hors d'œuvre. She's said to be the surrogate mother who helped raise the tiger and his littermates during their time with the Seville Circus. I’ve heard one of those littermates used to be seen riding around town in the back of a convertible.
 
Sadly (although perhaps fortunately for public safety) those tigers have long since gone to their reward, laws passed in 2023 prohibit owning such beasts, and their stories have faded into Seville legend. But the legacy lives on in Lassaleta’s seventeenth-century house on Amparo Street, now home to the marvelously atmospheric restaurant La Casa del Tigre (Tiger House).

​It's one of the coziest, most romantic spots in the city. The fare isn’t so much Spanish as vaguely international. We sat at the bar, where the stools are arranged in pairs placed a discreet distance apart. I watched in awe as two youngsters, having demolished a couple of jumbo gin cocktails, downed a bottle of wine with a substantial lunch and looked as if they were now heading bedward. Ah, the stamina of youth.
 
La Casa del Tigre was a cheerful antidote to the shock and gloom Rich and I were feeling over that morning’s announcement that Librería Verbo, one of Seville’s iconic bookstores, was closing. Housed in the vast, century-old Imperial Theater, the librería had held an abundance of books, author lectures, and chalkboards quoting Marcel Proust and Albert Camus. It was a cherished part of the intellectual life of the community, but it couldn’t outrun the new predator stalking this city: cultural deforestation.
 
It's a well-known tale. Apartments where families lived for generations are now Airbnbs. Neighborhood shops, including the pet store that once sold squirrels, have closed to make way for fast fashion and souvenirs. Food — that most sacred of Sevillano social traditions — is being sold from vending machines.

Bit by bit, the habitat sustaining the daily life of residents is being stripped away, and people are moving out. The shops they once supported can't survive. This week, Verbo became the latest casualty.

​Rich and I stopped in to bid a fond farewell to Verbo and then, before we could become completely demoralized, we set off to visit places, including La Casa del Tigre, that are still their goofy, quirky, oddball, only-in-Seville selves.

We didn’t have far to go. It was Thursday, and that meant a trip to the Mercadillo histórico El Jueves, Feria Street's historic Thursday Market, which has been selling second-hand treasures for at least 700 years.
 
True, a little gentrification has taken place recently. Instead of spreading wares on the ground, vendors use tables. A small monthly fee is required to participate, and spots are assigned, ending (or at least reducing) generations-long infighting and drama. Some stalls even take credit cards. But you’re still negotiating with colorful characters for goods without formal guarantees, and caveat emptor (buyer beware) at all times. I don't mean to brag, but our pickpockets are world class.

Even on non-market days, Feria Street is a fun place to shop for vintage clothes, second-hand books, fresh produce, electrical supplies, paint, hardware — all the building blocks of a vibrant urban life.

​And despite the inroads made by cookie-cutter corporate eateries and chain stores, pockets of quirky individualism and old-fashioned artisanship remain throughout the city.

​And yes, I shop in funky little family-run establishments whenever possible. I realize buying a few lightbulbs, a can of paint, or a used paperback won’t stop cultural deforestation. Places we love are changing before our eyes, not always for the better. The world is an unstable and scary place these days, and it’s easy to feel helpless.
 
We aren’t.
 
We may not be able to turn the tide of world events or keep a beloved bookstore alive as long as we’d hoped, but as author Laura McBride points out, we all make a difference, even when our acts go unacknowledged or seem, in the grand scheme of things, to be trivial.
 
“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged.” 

La Casa del Tigre is five minutes' walk north from the Setas (aka Plaza de la Encarnacíon). The Thursday Market is another five minutes north of that.

OUT TO LUNCH
This story is part of my ongoing series "Out to Lunch." Each week I write about visiting offbeat places in the city and province of Seville, often by train, seeking cultural curiosities and great eats. (Learn more.)​ 

WANT TO STAY IN THE LOOP?
If you haven't already, take a moment to subscribe so you'll receive notices when I publish my weekly posts.
Just send me an email and I'll take it from there.
[email protected]

LIKE TO READ BOOKS?
Be sure to check out my 
​best selling travel memoirs & guide books here.

PLANNING A TRIP?
Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in the search box below. If I've written about it, you'll find it.

Vending machine hamburgers in Seville? Say it ain't so!