I wanted a pet tiger as a kid. Ok, a small part of me kind of still does. However that's the illogical part of my brain that I generally ignore. My logical brain knows it's a ridiculous pet and I'd have no clue how care for one and it might eat my dogs.
My step-father* had a 'pet tiger' for a while. He was a publican at a pub in England. One of his friends trained big cats for a circus, and had a young tigress who, while trained, was too young to perform, so he farmed her out to Bill for a couple of months.
The tigress used to nap behind the bar, and apparently she was very well behaved and no trouble at all.
One day a bunch of rowdy bikers came in, had a wee bit too much to drink and got troublesome. Bill asked them to leave. Bill was a scrawny little guy, probably weighed 100lb soaking wet, so you can imagine the response to that. So he demanded they leave. The response was 'Who's gonna make us? You??!'
'No, her!' With that he called the tiger, who hopped up onto the bar and roared.
According to Bill, they were out of there so fast they almost left a few of their number behind!
*Bill was a delightful, charming gentleman who could tell a tale or 20 on just about any subject. I suspect there have been certain 'stretchings of the truth' in some of his stories. He was, without doubt, a 'rogue'. This particular story I have no idea about, but I do know he was a publican at one stage.