The ending of the story “Tiger Mending” is a big shock that I had not seen coming. Just like the woman I had expected some human to be causing the pain and anguish of the tigers. The thought that the tigers did to themselves never even occurred to me. I honestly had many different emotions going on. For one I was relieved that a human hand had not been the source of the tigers suffering. Yet knowing that they do it themselves had as the writer put it been “unsettling”. Not only was it unsettling, but it made my heart hurt. Why would a living thing hurt itself, and to the point of needing to be mended? It is a scary thought that not only humans, but animals as well do things to hurt themselves and it cannot be explained. Is it like that of a human, do they do it for attention, affection, out of boredom maybe? Or is it something beyond that? Is it something that we as humans cannot understand and connect with? Is it a learned behavior, or instinct? It makes me ill that they damaged themselves beyond their own repair, and then after all of it seek out help to repair the damage that they themselves have caused. I cannot help but see it through human eyes. Do they need that love and attention, a way to have a bond with something outside of their species? It is odd that an animal could have that sort of human instinct, I have never heard of such a thing before, especially from such a wild animal in which we are told to fear. Also, throughout the story she gives a very mellow feeling to the story, this makes the ending more surprising. When she first agree to do the job it was surprising to me that she was not at all interested in what it was, she just agreed to it, like sewing was something that calmed her, and as long as she was doing it, it didn’t matter where or what particular task she would be doing, so long as she got to sew. In the beginning when the tigers first start coming I had the thought, that they were being tortured by humans. It amazed me that she felt she had to know what was happening to them in order to fix them properly, I suppose when you love something that much you want to know why exactly you are doing it to feel accomplished. I am not exactly sure how I would have felt upon seeing them rip themselves open, I would be torn between disgust and pity. When finding out what was happening to them I did not feel like a curtain had opened to a window and I could clearly see. It was a completely opposite feeling, such as a heavier drape had been hung over an already dark and mysterious window that I could not look through. I was unsettled, but more confused than anything.