Fenella

Citizens of the town of Holmfirth, Yorkshire, felt last week that the war was getting really too demanding. The town was gladly carrying its share of Britain's military and economic burden. But many townsmen wondered whether, on top of this, they had to go on putting up with their fellow townsman Wilfred Overend's idea of a good time.

Citizens poking along in the gloom of the blackout were scared stiff when they smelled pungent jungle smells, saw wild eyes glinting in the darkness, felt sinuous, furry flanks sliding past their legs.

Actually it was only Wilfred Overend walking his tigress, Fenella. Wilfred roundly declared that Fenella was entitled to exercise, night or day, that she was no more dangerous than the average dog. But by last week most of Holmfirth had decided that, if Wilfred had Fenella, they would take chocolate. The Urban Council had put the matter in the hands of its lawyer. Said one councilman: "I understand this tiger is going to have young in the spring. Then we'll have a whole street full of tigers!"

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