The spots on the jaguar's coat rippled smoothly with genetic perfection. Her enormous paws left impressions in the dirt as she moved, noiseless like a skilled intruder. She did not notice me, behind bars, grabbing chunks of cold meat for her breakfast.
The palm trees didn't yet hold the silhouette-like qualities of the day. They were still indistinguishable from the sky. The sun had not yet risen, but our jaguar didn't know time. She slept when she wanted, ate when food was available, and only complained in the depths of summer. I'd never seen her glowing eyes in the dead of night; because I worked here during the day I never saw her purest form.
The meat fell apart in strings where the tendons had grown with the bones. I watched her pace as my slimy, gloved hands smacked down the flesh from a tray in one hand to a dish on the ground. I left the enclosure, locking it, double checking, before I unlatched the gate between where she lived and where I once stood.
She ate with