What do you do when Fate shows up in your rose bed with three-inch canines and retractable claws Robert–not Bob!–Stevenson wakes up one morning in his Vermont home to find a Bengal tiger sitting in his rose garden. Is the tiger real? Or has the illness that has invaded every other part of Robert's body finally and quite literally gone to his head? Real or imaginary, there is no dismounting once you get on the tiger's back.
