Never forget the scene in one of the The Administration books where the boys have a zoo day! I doubt a paraphrased excerpt can do justice to nine novel's worth of characterisation but...
The panther paced across the front of the cage immediately behind the glass. Not the whole width—barely a third of it, in fact. She had worn a path in the grass, turning each time at precisely the same spot, moving with a tightly contained energy that he found painful to watch.
Prowling—that was the word traditionally linked to big cats. She should have prowled, but she didn't. Warrick had spent a long time in front of the cage when he'd been here with Dillian, trying to work out why the word felt so wrong, and eventually decided that prowling implies an interest in the world around. The panther showed no awareness of anything beyond her endless turn and return.
Unlike many of the other cages, there was no sense of being watched back. It was possible to map many things onto the flat, yellow eyes—restlessness, rage, boredom, despair, madness, a desperate determination never to surrender to stillness and death—but nothing that touched the viewer, nothing that connected to anything outside the animal's own mind.
"Why's it doing that?" Toreth asked eventually.
"She came from somewhere where she was kept in a very small cage, with insufficient stimulation. The repetitive behaviour is called stereotyping. A stress-reducing response, or so I understand."
"So why is it still doing it?"
"Probably because she hasn't noticed yet that things have changed. It was all she'd ever experienced, according to the exhibit entry." He offered his hand screen to Toreth, but he was still watching the panther. "She arrived at the other place as a young cub, and after that she was always kept alone in the same cage."
"You feel sorry for it, don't you?" Toreth asked.
"More fool you. I'll tell you something—if you went in there with it, I bet it'd stop stereotyping pretty fucking sharpish." His hands slid up, circling Warrick's neck loosely. "It'd tear your fucking throat out."
Warrick forced his shoulders to relax. "Yes, I expect it would."
"That'd teach you not to feel sorry for things that don't fucking need it."