The Origin Story

The story I buried for fourteen years.

It has been hard for me to talk about this.

It’s something I’ve carried inside for years — a place in my soul I’ve kept covered up for reasons that once felt like protection.

Was it real?

Would I get in trouble?

Would people question me?

Would I end up under a microscope?

None of that matters anymore.

2000 — The Beginning

I was seventeen when I began volunteering at the Calgary Zoo. Bright-eyed, naive, and completely in love with the work. I started in the Canadian Wilds section, volunteering at least three days a week for nearly four years.

2004 — Hired Into Animal Care

They hired me into Animal Care. I stayed mainly in Canadian Wilds but began cross-training in other areas — Destination Africa, the Commissary, and finally Eurasia Cats and Bears.

2008–2009 — Tigers, Leopards, and Bears

By this time, I was regularly working with Amur tigers, snow leopards, sloth bears, and other Eurasian species. Then, management changed.

That matters.

July 10, 2009 — My 26th Birthday

That evening, I had two “Keeper for a Day” participants — members of the public who shadow keepers on their sections. During evening feeding in the Amur Tiger building, a serious incident occurred. A catastrophic containment breach.

One of the participants recorded the entire thing.

To protect the zoo’s reputation, I asked them to delete the video. I reported the incident.

No one asked for a statement.

No one offered debriefing.

No one said a word.

I stayed employed for 19 more days — silent, shaken, processing what had just happened in complete isolation.

Then, I resigned.

The Silence — 14 Years

For fourteen years I lived with it. The sound of metal. The smell of rust and ammonia. The click of the fencer. All buried under panic attacks, nightmares, and forced composure.

Then, I started talking.

A conversation with a former colleague and another individual — a first responder to a tiger incident that made national news shortly after mine — changed everything. It helped me see my own story through a different lens. So I began to excavate what I had buried.

The Excavation

For the last two years, I’ve been reclaiming my memory and my evidence. I’ve:

• Tattooed a tiger on the arm that held the chute.

• Publicly shared my story.

• Filed a WCB Alberta claim.

• Contacted peers and witnesses.

• Tracked down the missing pieces.

And then I found out something I never expected —the Keeper for a Day had restored the video.

They had kept it all these years.

In September 2025, I finally saw it. The thing I had replayed in my mind for sixteen

years. The nightmare, the sound, the proximity — the truth.

Now

Now I navigate the aftermath: the assumptions, the gaslighting, the denial, the diversion — and the excavation.

I can finally honor myself and my story. I can hold the situation in its raw truth. I can look at everything that was said to cover it up and shine light into that dark corner.

It’s mine now.

All of it.

So if you think I’m joking about the fire that now burns — you haven’t seen anything yet.