Tawny The Tiger

Of all the friends Billy Batson has made in his life as Shazam — and he has made many, from the Wizard to the Justice League to his whole foster family — there is one friend who is, perhaps, the most unusual.

His name is Tawky Tawny.

And he is a tiger.

Not a metaphorical tiger. Not a person nicknamed Tiger. An actual, real, orange-and-black-striped, four-legged, whiskered, padding-around-on-paws TIGER. With one small but very important difference.

Tawky Tawny can talk.

He was born long ago in the deep green jungles of India. He grew up as ordinary tigers do — hunting, drinking from cool rivers, padding silently through the bamboo. Then, one strange afternoon, a magical encounter changed his life forever. A wandering wizard, or perhaps a passing god (the story has been told many ways), bestowed upon him human intelligence and the ability to speak.

Tawny took to civilization the way you might take to a long-awaited holiday.

He learned English. He learned French. He learned how to read books and how to hold a teacup with his big striped paw. He had a tailor in Calcutta make him a beautiful suit — green tweed, with brass buttons, and a matching vest. He acquired a walking stick. He acquired a top hat. He bought a steamer ticket and crossed the ocean to Fawcett City, where he had heard there was a young hero who might be in need of a friend.

That young hero, of course, was Billy Batson.

When the two of them first met — Billy in his hoodie, Tawny in his tweed — there was a long surprised moment of looking at each other. Then Tawny tipped his hat. "Good afternoon, young man," he said, in a voice as warm and rich as cocoa. "Tawky Tawny, at your service."

Billy stared. Then, slowly, he grinned.

They have been the dearest of friends ever since.

Tawny is a gentleman of impeccable manners. He bows when he enters a room. He pulls out chairs for ladies. He says "please" and "thank you" and "if you would be so kind." He drinks Earl Grey tea in the afternoons at Fawcett City's finest tea shops, where the waitresses know him by name and bring him little plates of cucumber sandwiches without him having to ask. He is a beloved regular at the Fawcett City Library, where he reads philosophy and poetry, and where the librarian saves the newest novels for him to borrow first.

He is also, when it matters most, a true companion to Shazam.

Tawny accompanies Billy on many of his adventures. His tiger senses are extraordinary. He can hear a heartbeat through a wall. He can smell smoke a mile away. He can sense danger in a room before Billy has finished walking into it. His low growled "Billy" — quiet, urgent — has saved Shazam's life more than once.

But it is not Tawny's senses that make him precious. It is his perspective.

Tawny has lived in two worlds. He has been a tiger in the wilderness. He has been a gentleman in the city. He knows what it is to be feared by strangers, just because of how he looks. He knows what it is to be misunderstood. So when Billy is struggling with something — a hard choice, a feeling he can't name, a moment when being a hero feels too heavy — Tawny is the one Billy goes to.

They sit in Tawny's little book-filled apartment. Tawny pours tea from a porcelain pot. He listens — REALLY listens, with his big golden eyes patient and steady. And then, eventually, he offers a few quiet words. Usually only a few. But always exactly the right ones.

"Remember, Billy," he might say, "even a tiger must sometimes choose stillness over speed."

Or: "The world will not always understand you. That is the world's problem, not yours."

In a fight, Tawny is a thing to behold. He prefers, always, to talk first. He believes that even the meanest villain has, somewhere deep inside, a heart that can be reached with the right words. He has talked more than one bad guy out of a robbery simply by sitting down opposite him with a cup of tea and asking, very kindly, "What is troubling you, my friend?"

But if words do not work — if there is no other way — Tawny becomes what he was born to be. A tiger. He moves like liquid orange fire. His claws and his teeth are weapons enough to give any villain a moment of serious second thought. He never enjoys the fighting. He always weeps a little, afterward, in the privacy of his apartment. He is a gentle soul. But he will protect his friend.

For Billy, Tawny is more than a sidekick. He is a brother. A teacher. A reminder that magic is real and that the world is wider and stranger and more wonderful than anyone expects.

On lazy Sunday afternoons, you can sometimes find them together — Billy in his sneakers, Tawny in his green tweed — walking slowly through the Fawcett City park. Tawny will be telling a long meandering story about a poem he just read. Billy will be laughing. Pigeons will be hopping out of their way. Children will be staring openly, and Tawny will smile and tip his hat at each one of them.

The world is a more colorful place because of Tawky Tawny.

And as long as he is in it, Billy Batson — Earth's Mightiest Mortal — is never, ever alone.