can’t quite believe this. The lion leaps on the wooden platform in his cage. He looks proud of himself.
“Yuck,” Harrison says. “Chickens never do that.”
“He’s marking his territory,” Just Carol says.
“We’re his territory?” I ask.
“Apparently so,” Just Carol answers.
Mary-Judy laughs in a friendly way. “Welcome to the zoo, ladies and gentlemen,” she says. She shakes her short-haired head again. The way she does this, it seems as if there’s something missing from her head. I wonder if she used to have long hair. “That’s okay, guys. It’s happened to all of us one time or another. It’s my fault for not warning you. Someone here wearing perfume?” Mary-Judy looks at me.
I shrug. “Just a little,” I say, edging myself away from Just Carol. Pistachio is wiggling like crazy. The smell is making him nuts. I hope he doesn’t sneeze. I wonder if it will look suspicious if I walk out the door. I edge toward it.
Mary-Judy nods her head and puckers up her mouth. “That’s why. Junior here likes perfume. He’s particularly fond of the real musky ones. We always tell our keepers not to wear scents, because you never can tell what an animal will make of them. Especially one of our cats. You wouldn’t believe some of the things perfume is made of—squashed beaver testicles, whale vomit… and who knows what those kinds of scents signify to a lion.”
Mary-Judy is clearly enjoying herself now. She walks to the back wall, where there are pulleys marked with numbers. She grabs ahold of number 3and hauls it down. The pulley makes a noise like rusty metal threading rusty metal and pulls open a door, which leads out of one of the lions’ cages into the big exhibit area outside. The lion darts out, even before the door is all the way open. The way she moves, I know this is what she has been waiting for. Mary-Judy lets the pulley go back up, and the door comes down again, closing off the bright square of sunlight. The pulley door gives me the creeps. It reminds me of a guillotine I saw in a book at school.
Now Mary-Judy walks to pulley number 2 and does the same thing. When all the lions are out, she is all business again. “Carol, I think I have a couple of clean shirts hanging in my locker. Why don’t you have Ant and Harrison put those on. I’m going to check the birds. I’ll meet you at the African exhibit. We’ll clean here after break.” Mary-Judy picks up the bucket of rats and the bowl with the fruit and worms, then she waits for us to leave the night house first. When we are out in the bright sun, she wraps the heavy chain around the door and locks it with the kind of padlock Harrison uses on his bike.
7
K IGALI
H arrison and me didn’t really get much pee on us, but we’re not about to turn down the chance to put on khaki shirts that say Ziffman Park Zoo on them. These are the kind only the real keepers get to wear. Of course, I have to cover mine with Pistachio’s jacket, which is the only part of me that actually got wet. I roll the sleeve up where it got a little pee on it and try not to get grossed out about it. I wonder what Your Highness Elizabeth would do if she got lion pee on her. This makes me laugh.
When Harrison comes out of the rest room, he looks almost like a real keeper. Harrison is kind of small, so the sleeves are way too long. I help him roll them up, then we crowd in front of the scratched-up old mirror attached to the inside of Mary-Judy’s locker and admire ourselves.
Just Carol sticks her head in the locker room. “All right, you’re both gorgeous. Now come on, you two. We’ve got a lot to do before lunch.” I jump when I hear her voice, afraid for a second Pistachio is out ofmy pocket. But he isn’t. He is curled in a little ball against my hip. I wish again I’d left him home.
When we get to the giraffe exhibit, there are pigeons everywhere—on the ground, in the mangers, under the wheelbarrows, and clustered in the doorways of the
“Yuck,” Harrison says. “Chickens never do that.”
“He’s marking his territory,” Just Carol says.
“We’re his territory?” I ask.
“Apparently so,” Just Carol answers.
Mary-Judy laughs in a friendly way. “Welcome to the zoo, ladies and gentlemen,” she says. She shakes her short-haired head again. The way she does this, it seems as if there’s something missing from her head. I wonder if she used to have long hair. “That’s okay, guys. It’s happened to all of us one time or another. It’s my fault for not warning you. Someone here wearing perfume?” Mary-Judy looks at me.
I shrug. “Just a little,” I say, edging myself away from Just Carol. Pistachio is wiggling like crazy. The smell is making him nuts. I hope he doesn’t sneeze. I wonder if it will look suspicious if I walk out the door. I edge toward it.
Mary-Judy nods her head and puckers up her mouth. “That’s why. Junior here likes perfume. He’s particularly fond of the real musky ones. We always tell our keepers not to wear scents, because you never can tell what an animal will make of them. Especially one of our cats. You wouldn’t believe some of the things perfume is made of—squashed beaver testicles, whale vomit… and who knows what those kinds of scents signify to a lion.”
Mary-Judy is clearly enjoying herself now. She walks to the back wall, where there are pulleys marked with numbers. She grabs ahold of number 3and hauls it down. The pulley makes a noise like rusty metal threading rusty metal and pulls open a door, which leads out of one of the lions’ cages into the big exhibit area outside. The lion darts out, even before the door is all the way open. The way she moves, I know this is what she has been waiting for. Mary-Judy lets the pulley go back up, and the door comes down again, closing off the bright square of sunlight. The pulley door gives me the creeps. It reminds me of a guillotine I saw in a book at school.
Now Mary-Judy walks to pulley number 2 and does the same thing. When all the lions are out, she is all business again. “Carol, I think I have a couple of clean shirts hanging in my locker. Why don’t you have Ant and Harrison put those on. I’m going to check the birds. I’ll meet you at the African exhibit. We’ll clean here after break.” Mary-Judy picks up the bucket of rats and the bowl with the fruit and worms, then she waits for us to leave the night house first. When we are out in the bright sun, she wraps the heavy chain around the door and locks it with the kind of padlock Harrison uses on his bike.
7
K IGALI
H arrison and me didn’t really get much pee on us, but we’re not about to turn down the chance to put on khaki shirts that say Ziffman Park Zoo on them. These are the kind only the real keepers get to wear. Of course, I have to cover mine with Pistachio’s jacket, which is the only part of me that actually got wet. I roll the sleeve up where it got a little pee on it and try not to get grossed out about it. I wonder what Your Highness Elizabeth would do if she got lion pee on her. This makes me laugh.
When Harrison comes out of the rest room, he looks almost like a real keeper. Harrison is kind of small, so the sleeves are way too long. I help him roll them up, then we crowd in front of the scratched-up old mirror attached to the inside of Mary-Judy’s locker and admire ourselves.
Just Carol sticks her head in the locker room. “All right, you’re both gorgeous. Now come on, you two. We’ve got a lot to do before lunch.” I jump when I hear her voice, afraid for a second Pistachio is out ofmy pocket. But he isn’t. He is curled in a little ball against my hip. I wish again I’d left him home.
When we get to the giraffe exhibit, there are pigeons everywhere—on the ground, in the mangers, under the wheelbarrows, and clustered in the doorways of the
Similar Books
