Ms. Jane Clayton never married. Though she did have children, ever so many, an even thousand. For fifty years, every year, she taught twenty new first-graders, all until her mandatory retirement at age seventy.
But that was years ago now, and all she had these days was just her one child, Mr. Snuggles, and he was all she needed.
“It’s time to watch our shows.” The old lady lifted her elderly yorkiepoo up from the floor and onto the sofa beside her. “Look, it’s Animal Planet, your favorite!”
“Yip. Yip-yap.” Mr. Snuggles gave a tiny bark as he stared at the elephants crossing the screen. His body was even tinier than his bark. He weighed just four pounds and stood at a mere eight inches. His crossbreed was designed to be small, and both his purebred parents, a toy poodle stud and a Yorkshire terrier bitch, had each been quite petite themselves.
“Shush now Mr. Snuggles. Shhh,” Ms. Clayton held her hand out with the palm down, “and stay.” Mr. Snuggles had been an energetic, playful puppy. He was eager to please and so easy to train, and Ms. Clayton certainly knew how to teach. After her “stay” command, the dog quieted and then sat at rigid attention on top of the couch pillow. Only his eyes moved, side to side, silently scanning the various animals as they paraded across his view on the television screen.
Ms. Clayton sat next to her dog. She stroked the fur on his trunk, rubbed his belly, then massaged the folds behind his ears. He was an old dog. His soft, curly brown coat had long since lightened to a wispy tan with tufts of silver and gray. His clear brown eyes had grown a bit cloudy. But his black nose was still dark and damp, and his pink tongue gave wet kisses, all just the same.
“Okay.” Ms. Clayton gave the “okay” command to break Mr. Snuggles’ rigid “stay,” and then she leaned over to allow him to bathe her mouth with licks from his short snout.
The two had aged well together. Dog owners and their dogs often grow to resemble one another, and these two were no exceptions. Ms.Clayton, always a short woman, had shrunk now to under four feet. Her own soft, curly brown hair had long since faded into a mix of tan, silver, and gray. Her once clear brown eyes had also now grown a bit cloudy. Over the years, she and Mr. Snuggles came to share so many similarities, though she had never expected them to share even the same diseases.
At first it was funny. Arthritis. Diabetes. Even some mild congestive heart failure. But then this mirroring turned tragic. Ms. Clayton was diagnosed with cancer, specifically B-cell lymphoma, stage four. One week later, she felt lumps similar to her own beneath Mr. Snuggles’ jaw and in his armpits and groin. After several trips to the vet, Mr. Snuggles also was diagnosed with cancer, also B-cell lymphoma, also stage four.
“We need to say goodbye soon.” Ms. Clayton teared up and sniffled. “It will be the last day of class for both of us. Very soon.” She kissed Mr. Snuggles on the top of his head.
Their television show ended and then an ad for the local zoo played. Mr. Snuggles was just as mesmerized by the zoo ad as by the animal show which preceded it.
Ms. Clayton considered how many animals there were at the zoo. Mr. Snuggles had never seen most of them, not for real, not off the screen. She imagined too how much her old dog would enjoy not just their sights, but also their sounds and smells. The commercial highlighted free admission on Wednesdays. And the zoo really was only just several bus stops away from their apartment.
“Our last day may be soon, Mr. Snuggles, but first let’s go on a field trip.” She stood up to refill his water bowl and scoop him a cup of chow. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the zoo!”
*****
Portland Metro Authority had an unofficial policy regarding companion animals and the elderly. Staff had modified “don’t ask, don’t tell” to “don’t look, don’t show.” And so the key to riding on a public bus, as an old lady with a tiny dog, was having a sufficiently large bag to hide your beloved pet. Ms. Clayton owned several.
The next morning, she strapped her largest canvas tote bag into the wicker basket which was affixed to the top shelf of her rolling walker. She first dropped her purse into the bag, then filled the rest of the space with a blanket, small pillow, water bottle, expandable bowl, and sealed container of cheese cube treats. She lifted Mr. Snuggles from his perch on the couch and plopped him down into the center of the bag. Ms. Clayton then grabbed her lunch bag and placed it on the bottom shelf of her walker, remembering also to tuck inside it the container with her mid-day pills, and the other one with Mr. Snuggles’ medications.
She donned her large floppy sun hat, the straw one with the daisy, and put on her matching double-breasted trench coat.
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” She removed the bus pass from the pocket in her coat and strapped its lanyard over her neck. “Mr. Snuggles, that also includes a journey to the bus stop.”
She had refused to use a walker up until just last year. Her arms were strong from her many years as a first-grade teacher — there had been so much daily lifting of the children — but her legs had weakened as the arthritis in her knees progressed.
And thus she pushed forward with this walker now, slowly, out her front door. The pattern was simple. Place one foot in front of the other, take a small step, push the roller walker forward on its front wheels, squeeze both hand brakes, stop, then repeat. In this way, slowly and steadily, she plodded from her front door, down the hallway, to the elevator, the front door, the sidewalk, the bus stop, and on to the number eight bus.
Ms. Clayton sat alone with her walker in the accessible seating in the middle of the bus. Although she had buttoned the four large top buttons of her large tote bag, Mr. Snuggles’ snout still poked out every few minutes to sample the smells along the route. And also the tastes, as after every few stops, Ms. Clayton would sneak him a few treats. Twenty blocks and a half hour or so later, the bus completed the last stop on its route. Ms. Clayton, with Mr. Snuggles hidden in her tote bag, exited off the bus to the entrance plaza for the Oregon Zoo.
*****
Free admission brought much larger crowds than typical for a Wednesday morning. It was bustling. Ms. Clayton moved slowly along the long entry line with her walker and her large tote bag. Mr. Snuggles managed to stay calm, and quiet, despite the noise from so many young boys and girls; most there with their various parents and grandparents. There were also crowds of older children clearly on school trips with their teachers. The line snaked its way slowly across the front facade of the gift shop. The store had long folding doors opened up to the plaza, allowing easy access to shelves and shelves of souvenir plushies for purchase. Ms. Clayton noted a row of the most adorable gray wolf pup stuffed animals. Each had similar coloring to Mr. Snuggles, all with the same size and proportions. These lovies came wearing souvenir “Oregon Zoo” sweaters and large ornate price tags on strings wrapped around their necks.
“Oh Mr. Snuggles, if you could only see these dolls of your cousins. But shhh. Keep hidden.” She patted the sides of her large tote bag and pushed Mr. Snuggles’ snout back down from between the top buttons. “We’ll see the real thing soon enough.”
As she advanced in the long line towards the zoo entrance, Ms. Clayton read the large “No Dogs Allowed” sign. She had expected this, and so Mr. Snuggles was presently hiding inside her biggest bag. But she had not expected the elaborate security line. So much had happened in the many years since her last school field trip to the zoo when she was still a first-grade teacher. The world had become more cautious. She watched ahead of her as guards in this new security line checked inside each person’s bags before they allowed them entry into the zoo.
The elderly move slow and speak slow, but this does not mean they think slow. Especially not Ms. Clayton.
“That’s okay, you go ahead of me dear; I need to head out of line for the bathroom.” She turned to the young mom behind her and left the line with her walker. She first headed towards the bathroom and then, after several yards, veered away and looped back around to the gift shop. She then very specifically purchased two of the gray wolf pup plushies.
“Mr. Snuggles, the best place to hide is in plain sight.”
Ms. Clayton was an experienced elementary school teacher; she knew everything there was to know about attention, misdirection, and redirection. She was an expert in both strategic visibility and strategic invisibility.
She found a private corner near the bathrooms and removed her large tote bag from her wicker basket. She placed the first wolf pup stuffed animals directly into the basket. She next removed both the tiny “Oregon Zoo” sweater and the string with a price tag from the second wolf pup stuffed animal and then discreetly tossed this now naked second doll into the garbage nearby. Finally, she lifted Mr. Snuggles out of the tote bag. She dressed him in this second tiny “Oregon Zoo” sweater, removed his collar and replaced it with the string and its dangling ornate price tag, and then lifted up Mr. Snuggles to place him right next to the nearly identical gray wolf pup doll. They were twins. Of a sort.
“Stay.” She firmly placed her palm forward and down in front of Mr. Snuggles’ snout.
He froze his body in the sitting position obediently. Mr. Snuggles and his twin doll both sat prominently in the wicker basket affixed to the top shelf of Ms. Clayton’s roller walker.
Ms. Clayton placed her lunch bag inside her tote bag and stuffed the tote bag on the bottom shelf of her roller walker. To any casual observer, she was now an elderly lady who had purchased two small plushies.
She reentered the line, paraded through security — Mr. Snuggles proudly held his “stay” command — and thus the two began their adventure at the zoo.
*****
Ms. Clayton was determined to show Mr. Snuggles the elephants first, and so she passed rapidly through the insect zoo and the aviary, rapidly for an octogenarian with a walker. The dog had no reaction to the insect zoo—these animals were small and sealed inside glass enclosures. However the aviary was another matter entirely. He did not break his “stay.” He held his body rigidly as they passed through, but his tail wagged, his ears perked up, his nose wiggled, and his eyes darted back and forth with wonder.
The crowds had thinned out on the path to the elephants, and so Ms. Clayton finally broke her “stay” command. She reached in front of Mr. Snuggles’ nose, snapped her fingers, and spoke the release word, “Okay.”
The path looped up a small hill to a viewing platform abutting the elephant enclosure. There were two large open grass areas, each with a large shady tree at its center, separated by a mud pit and a bathing pond, both fed by a simulated waterfall.
“These are real elephants.” Ms. Clayton waved her hand at the three elephants below. The mother was rolling in a mud pit. The father and baby were blowing water at one another with their trunks.
“Yip yap.” Mr. Snuggles gave a short bark before he was struck mute. He wagged his tail and ran in a small circle inside the wicker basket. With his front paws, he lifted his body up to the edge of the basket. He stiffened. His tail froze upwards. His ears perked forward. His nose pulsed out of his small snout, in and out, sniffing the air with each deep breath. He stared at each elephant, then Ms. Clayton, then back to each elephant, then Ms. Clayton again, and the loop continued. For an hour.
For the hour after that, Ms. Clayton moved them next door where there was an even larger African savanna enclosure, one mixing giraffes, zebras, and ostriches all together. She remembered back to her yearly school field trips to the zoo and to the amusing astonishment of her first graders. But their amazement seemed mild now compared to the awe and wonder in Mr. Snuggles’ present mien.
They visited the polar bears and then the penguins, and this is where she found a hidden corner of grass for Mr. Snuggles to relieve himself. After these Arctic exhibits, the zoo path opened up into a central cafe with outside seating overlooking a pond of flamingos. Ms. Clayton sat with Mr. Snuggles at a remote table and unpacked their respective lunches. She ate her tuna fish sandwich, placed a cup of dog chow into a small bowl on the floor, and shared her water, pouring some into a second small bowl on the floor as well. Mr. Snuggles was unusually hungry and thirsty, but he was tired too, so he mostly ate and drank quietly at her feet.
After she finished her lunch, Ms. Clayton opened her portable midday pill container — there was her blue arthritis pill, her red diabetes pill, and her green heart pill. She opened Mr. Snuggles’ midday portable pill container — there was his blue arthritis pill, his red diabetes pill, and his green heart pill. Both the containers and the pill colors matched—though Mr. Snuggles got to enjoy his pills stuffed into small cubes of cheddar cheese, whereas Ms. Clayton simply swallowed hers whole. So many pills for so many times during each of so many days. But there comes a point where enough pills are enough, and enough life is enough, and that was when Ms. Clayton had recently resolved that neither she nor Mr. Snuggles would be taking any additional pills, whatever their color, and whatever their purpose, chemotherapy or otherwise.
“Mr. Snuggles, there’s so much more to see.” She lifted her dog back into the wicker basket on the top shelf of her roller walker, placing him in line next to the stuffed wolf pup. Ms. Clayton next praised the dog in slow singsong cadence, “Carpe diem,” patted him on his head, “Memento mori,” rubbed a bit behind his ears as they perked toward her, “De Brevitate Vitae,” and then gave him a last cube of pill-less cheddar cheese as a treat. “Though I guess the children all say ‘YOLO’ now?” She packed her empty lunch box and large tote bag into the bottom shelf of her walker and finally restarted her slow ambulation down the zoo path.
*****
They were on their way to the chimpanzee habitat in the primate house, but first they would pass through the gray wolf den. Ms. Clayton was pleased to discover that her favorite mural nearby had not changed at all; it had even been touched up in the many years since her last visit with her students. She stopped along her route to show Mr. Snuggles the image.
A large saber-toothed tiger menaced downwards from atop a grassy knoll; it froze in an offensive posture, with lowered head, arched back, raised rear legs, and opened mouth exposing its notoriously large canines. In the field below, a group of prehuman ancestors circled together with a small pack of allied wolves. The group was mounting a defense, with the cavemen mostly throwing rocks and the various wolves snarling upwards. A bigger leader in the front was wielding a torch, and the largest wolf stood beside him growling upwards with open fangs. Several paragraphs printed on a sign beneath the mural detailed the coexistence and subsequent coevolution of humans and dogs. As these prehumans became humans, so too did their allied wolves become domesticated dogs. The pact between man and dog is thus as old as man and dog themselves. “You see, Mr. Snuggles, what we are today came from what we were then.”
The mural gave way to a large glass wall which bounded a small corner of the gray wolf den and then a much larger corner of their outdoor enclosure. It was one of the largest habitats in the zoo. Ms. Clayton could see a long low rambling field, dotted with various dirt mounds, trees, and shrubs. There was a wading pool in the center, and above it, a large boulder overlooked the entirety of their domain. Two wolves sat atop the boulder, but luckily a third also rested down in their den, right behind the glass there, directly in front of Ms. Clayton and Mr. Snuggles.
This third wolf rose from its nap and stepped slowly toward the glass barrier. Ms. Clayton lifted Mr. Snuggles down to the floor on their side of the glass. The two canines stared at one another. Their ears folded back. The hair on the back of their necks rose in synchrony. “Yip yap.” Mr. Snuggles gave a sudden short bark and ran in several quick short circles on the floor in front of the wolf. “Yap yip.” He bowed down with his front legs, lifting his rump up high with his hind legs. The wolf’s ears perked forwards and the hair on the back of its neck relaxed. He bowed down too, imitating Mr. Snuggles’ play bow. The two darted back and forth in small semicircles in front of each of their sides of the glass barrier between them. They stopped and started these mirrored bursts, with brief rests, over and over. Then Mr. Snuggles tired first, whereupon he lay curled up by the glass, the wolf again mirrored his posture, and the two canines then panted happily across from one another for quite some time.
The edge of the glass wall folded into a long gray curved concrete wall, and Ms. Clayton read the updated information posted about the exhibit. The three gray wolves were a small pack of brothers rescued as pups. They would not be released back into the wild; rather, they were part of a breeding program to ensure the genetic diversity of future pups, an important part of conservation efforts.
“Mr. Snuggles, it’s time to say goodbye to your new friend.” Ms. Clayton re-read the final paragraph. She suspected that the two wolves on the boulder were the alpha “Romulus” and the beta “Remus.” And so their smaller brother would have been the one in the den. “Let’s say goodbye to your new friend ‘Seth.’” She lifted Mr. Snuggles up from the floor and placed him back into the wicker basket on the top shelf of her roller walker.
The zoo path tunneled up and out from below the enclosure and the curved concrete wall gave way to a green metal fence which ran along the remaining outer perimeter. A thick metal wire was strung across the top of the fence, between each of the poles, and a yellow rectangular caution sign warned visitors that it was electrified. As they neared the final edge of the habitat, the wolf “Seth” gave a howl from inside the den, his siblings on the boulder responded in unison, and then—Mr. Snuggles howled too!
“Yowwwwww, yow-yowwwwww!” Mr. Snuggles snout raised upwards to the sky and erupted with a loud, high-pitched vibration. It was his first ever howl, and both Ms. Clayton and Mr Snuggles were equally startled by this newfound ability.
“Mr. Snuggles, leave it. Settle. Sit.” Ms. Clayton giggled, then gave him another small cube of cheese. “Stay.”
The dog sat stiffly in the wicker basket, next to his twin wolf pup doll, as Ms. Clayton continued down the path.
****
Mr. Snuggles needed to hold his stay for a very long time. Ms. Clayton had to move along with her roller walker, quite slowly, down a very long, winding path to the quiet center of the zoo. The remote primate house there held the zoo’s chimpanzee habitat.
It was an enormous and high glass walled enclosure with an open green mesh netting as a roof. An additional lattice of thick metal wires loosely covered the roof netting, and yellow rectangular caution signs were mounted high on each wall warning of electrification. Sunlight filtered through the roofing and dappled the grass floor beneath. A stream ran diagonally through the center and opened to two bathing pools on either corner. Real trees and shrubs mixed with obviously artificial vegetation to create a small faux jungle. There were several boulders and two large hollowed-out logs. The foliage was thicker along the two far walls, and thinner along the two nearer walls, which abutted the walking path for visitors.
Signs posted along the path explained that the adult chimps had been rescued from several circuses. The population was an extended family of ten: two adult couples, several juveniles and babies, and one grandmother. A chart detailed the family tree and each chimp’s name. The grandma was called “Mrs. Chita.”
“Okay,” Ms. Clayton turned to Mr. Snuggles, then snapped her fingers and gave the command to break his “stay.” “These are my cousins, just like the wolves are your cousins.”
Mr. Snuggles looked up through the glass wall. The many chimps inside were large blobs for him, and so he was able to track their movements on their big climbing structure. This assembly was tall, rising high up to the ceiling, and wide, hovering over most of the grass of the enclosure. Various platforms were mounted at different heights, and several ropes hung down to mimic forest vines. There were poles, beams, tires, swings, and toys of all sorts, everywhere.
Several juveniles played on the top platform; they alternately swung down to the ground, then chased each other back up to the top. Mr. Snuggles was captivated by their movements. His tongue rested out and his breathing was quiet as his eyes and head darted in sync to the frolicking of these younger chimpanzees.
Ms. Clayton worked to spot each of the ten chimps in the troop. Below the juveniles, one mommy was bathing her baby in a pond, the other was sleeping with her baby on the boulder. The smaller male groomed the larger male on a different boulder. One of the two large hollowed-out logs had been cut and placed against the viewing glass. Inside, an older female chimpanzee arose from her nap and hobbled over to the glass wall to stand in front of Ms. Clayton and Mr. Snuggles.
Her fur was black, like the others, but peppered with gray, especially around her face and her limbs. Her skin was wrinkled and sagging, especially around her face, near her eyes and mouth. She looked up at Ms. Clayton and shook her head playfully. The old chimp relaxed her mouth and opened her lower jaw, revealing several missing teeth.
“Hello dearie. I am honored to meet you again.” Ms. Clayton could not help staring into the elderly ape’s eyes. “You must be Mrs. Chita.” She had read the sign specifically warning visitors not to stare into any chimp’s eyes, but Mrs. Chita had looked first. Ms. Clayton was just meeting her glance.
“It’s been a long time since I last saw you. I was here with my own troop, first graders, I suspect the baby you were nursing then is one of the daddies here now. Do you remember me?”
The elderly ape’s light amber eyes gazed deeply into Ms. Clayton’s pale blue. Mrs. Chita placed her right hand over her heart and then flattened her left hand onto the glass wall in front of Ms. Clayton.
“You move slow, like Mr. Snuggles and me. I guess you have arthritis now too.” Ms. Clayton mirrored the movements. She placed her left hand over her own heart and then extended her right hand onto the glass wall, laying it over Mrs. Chita’s left hand. The palms matched precisely, however her human fingers were much shorter and her human thumb much longer.
“We’ve both seen too many seasons, haven’t we?” Ms. Clayton spoke softly. “But we carry on, as best we can, don’t we?” Her voice betrayed a slight quiver.
Mrs. Chita blinked a few times, then nodded her head as if she were listening.
The elderly woman and the ancient chimpanzee stood like this, across the glass wall from one another, holding hands, sort of, and sharing a gaze, kind of.
At some point later, Mr. Snuggles looked downward from the climbing structure and was startled to see Mrs. Chita.
“Yip yip yip.” He barked briefly, ran in a few small circles. with his tail tucked under his legs, and then pushed his head into Ms. Clayton’s belly.
She removed her hand from the glass to calm her dog.
The elderly chimp limped back to the center of the hollowed-out log. She lay back down in the center atop a mound of straw, splayed out her legs, and scratched her arms. All the while, she kept her eyes fixed on Ms. Clayton. She smiled—at least Ms. Clayton thought it was like a smile—“Mrs. Chita” had relaxed her mouth like before and opened her lower jaw—and then she waved.
Ms. Clayton waved back as she turned with Mr. Snuggles to continue on the path towards the final section of the zoo.
“Let’s go see the big cats, Mr. Snuggles, especially the tigers!”
*****
It was both late fall and late afternoon, and so the sun was setting by the time Ms. Clayton and Mr. Snuggles neared the tiger enclosure. Lights flickered on along the walkways, and spotlights now illuminated the exhibits. An announcement played on overhead speakers that the zoo would be closing in half an hour.
With Mr. Snuggles sitting alertly in the upper basket of her roller walker, Ms. Clayton ambled their way up the disability ramp to the viewing area overlooking the tiger habitat. It ended in a circular turret that offered an unobstructed view over and above the enclosure. She settled her walker on the edge of this observation platform as she and Mr. Snuggles looked downward together through the dusk.
The tiger’s domain was a large hexagon whose outer perimeter was bordered by thick high metal fencing, angled inwards, edged on top by two rows of electric wires. Below this fencing, the ground sloped on all sides, filled in with lush foliage and underbrush. A slim green pipe angled downwards from the middle of the viewing turret into the center of the enclosure; there, it opened to trickle water into a small pond. Two small trees framed one side of the pond; on the other, double doors opened to a cavelike den. A large boulder rested next to the pond and, atop that, rested the mighty “Sabor,” the zoo’s large Siberian tiger.
“Mr. Snuggles, that’s a tiger.” Ms. Clayton smelled the strong odor of wet earth, and the even stronger odor of wet cat. She could only imagine what other odors her little dog smelled.
Mr. Snuggles propped his forelegs on the edge of the wicker basket and leaned over the turret. He flared his nostrils, wiggled his nose, and breathed deeply and rapidly. The dog was clearly mesmerized.
All was silent for a time.
Then they watched as the tiger stood up to a rigid stance atop its boulder. It similarly flared its nostrils, wiggled its nose and breathed deeply and rapidly. Perhaps the tiger smelled Mr. Snuggles as much as Mr. Snuggles smelled the tiger. It stared now directly upwards at Mr. Snuggles, and also Ms. Clayton.
The tiger roared — suddenly — loudly and violently.
“Grrr. Yip yap.” Mr. Snuggles growled, then barked back.
Ms Clayton felt what happened before she understood it. A tremendous wave of nausea passed through her body. She winced. Her heart raced. Her breathing froze.
Mr. Snuggles had leapt forward to protect her. But he had fallen off the viewing platform and down into the center of the enclosure. There was a splash in the pond. Ms. Clayton watched as her little dog emerged from the water, paddled to the edge, and crept onto the shore beneath the boulder.
“Yowwwww, yow-yowwwww!” Mr. Snuggles raised his second ever howl in alarm.
Some decisions are not decisions at all. Ms. Clayton locked the brakes of her roller walker and pushed the top wicker basket onto the floor, converting her walker into a step stool. Her legs were weak and her knees arthritic, but her arms were as strong as ever. Fifty years of teaching first graders, lifting them at recess, hugging them at pick up and drop off—this had given her very strong forearms indeed. She grabbed her large canvas tote bag and dumped the contents. She rushed up the two steps of her walker, then looped the canvas tote bag up and over the slim green water pipe extending down from the turret. With one hand grasping at each handle, she lifted her body up with both arms, then dove off the turret. She was ziplining down the water pipe.
Ms. Clayton hollered. She started with a high, piercing shrill note, then raised it and dropped it, alternatively, rhythmically, all in an unexpected rapid trill as she descended.
There was a second larger splash in the pond. Ms. Clayton then emerged and crawled to the shore herself. She and Mr. Snuggles stood together now, beneath the boulder with the large Siberian tiger “Sabor” growling down at them from above.
All three were startled next by a third even larger splash. The slim green water pipe above the pond had crashed downwards. Water gushed from the pipe’s outlet back at the turret and poured downward onto the electrified wires on top of the fence. Sparks flew and flared everywhere along the fencing. A large boom sounded in the distance and instantly all the lights in the zoo turned off.
Some of the sparks had lit a broken tree branch near Ms. Clayton’s feet. The dusk was growing darker, the zoo power had blacked out, and so this was now her only light source. Ms. Clayton grabbed the flaming tree branch with both hands and waved the torch upwards at the tiger.
“Get back!” she shouted. “Go on. Get!” Ms. Clayton was old, very old, and such old age is only for the brave. Nothing scared her now. Death stared her in the face every day, she mused, what is one more set of eyes, feline or otherwise. She whooped and hollered at the big cat as she brandished her torch forwards, with Mr. Snuggles growling by her side.
The cat roared again, then snarled from atop its boulder. It crouched downward, into a stalking position and bared its fangs.
A single stone suddenly arced through the darkness from behind Ms. Clayton and Mr. Snuggles. It hit the tiger in the face. Next another stone came, and others, and then a shower of small rocks battered the tiger. It backed away atop the boulder, retreated down the edge, and finally slunk into its den near the pond.
Behind her, Ms. Clayton heard a cacophony of human-like shrieks and dog-like howls. She turned her head quickly and flourished the burning branch behind her. The darkness abated to a mix of familiar shadows—three wolves and three chimpanzees. “Mrs. Chita,” her two sons, and the three gray wolves—they had all heard Ms. Clayton’s holler and Mr. Snuggles’ howl. And they had all answered. Each had escaped their enclosures after the power went out. The troop and the pack had then united behind Ms. Clayton and Mr. Snuggles in this oldest of alliances.
“Mrs. Chita” thumped at the ground and grunted. Her two sons then rushed, one to each of the large doors of the tiger’s den, pushing them closed as the beast cowered inside. Ms. Clayton moved forward and slid the base of her flaming tree branch between the two door handles, thus locking the den tightly.
Then Ms. Clayton exhaled.
Then she collapsed.
*****
Ms. Clayton awoke surprised. These days, she was always surprised at waking up, but extra surprised to be doing so on a gurney near the entrance to the zoo. She felt a pinch in her forearm and looked down to see an IV, then up to see a bag of fluids. She also felt an itch in her nose. There was a small rubber cannula puffing oxygen into her nostrils.
“This is silly, I just fainted.” She turned to the EMT who was checking her pulse. “Young man, I’m afraid that I have to politely refuse your care.” She pulled the IV from her arm and removed the oxygen tube from beneath her nose. “I am DNI and DNR and I do not wish any further treatment or to go to the hospital.”
The medic began to protest until an older man in a business suit waved him away.
“Ms. Clayton, we haven’t met. I’m Mr. Burroughs, the lawyer for the zoo.” He was holding Mr. Snuggles. “I believe this is your dog?”
Mr. Snuggles hopped from the man’s arms and into Ms. Clayton’s lap on the gurney. He yipped, twirled around in several small excited circles, then licked her face.
“Ms. Clayton, this afternoon has been a disaster at the zoo. A short circuit in the electric fence grid blew our generator, all the power went down, and of course all the electric fencing too. Several animals escaped their enclosures. You were found unconscious in our Siberian tiger enclosure, with your dog nearby. We’re still sorting it all out.”
A different EMT brought her roller walker to Ms. Clayton. It had her wicker basket, and also her large tote bag, with her purse, pill containers, and lunch bag inside.
She propped herself off the gurney and in front of the walker, then she returned Mr. Snuggles to his wicker basket up top.
“The situation is very embarrassing to us and we’d like to keep this incident quiet.” Mr. Burroughs continued, “We have some unusual video of you and your dog entering the tiger enclosure.” He removed a clipboard with a pen and a form. “We’re willing to offer you a ‘release’ in exchange for signing an ‘NDA.’ This means that the zoo agrees not to pursue any trespassing or vandalism charges against you in exchange for you signing a ‘non-disclosure agreement’ in which you agree not to talk to anyone about what happened here today.”
Ms. Clayton nodded, smiled, then signed the form. After which both she and Mr. Snuggles were politely, but also promptly, escorted off the zoo property and over to the bus stop.
She placed Mr. Snuggles into her large tote bag and the two rode the next bus home. During the ride, Mr. Snuggles stuck his snout out of the bag and Ms. Clayton gave him a little kiss.
“Shhh.” She also snuck him a small cube of cheese. “Settle down, now.”
As Mr. Snuggles stilled himself, Ms. Clayton exhaled a long elated sigh.
Across from her accessible seating and posted above the bus windows, the old woman admired a large framed banner with photos of seals, dolphins, and sharks. It was an advertisement for the local aquarium.
She grinned, then whispered into her tote bag.
“Tomorrow, Mr. Snuggles, let’s go to the aquarium.”
