Zoos

Dear Stephanie,

My favorite part of a zoo is the reptile house, the part where they keep the nocturnal animals.  There are often mammals and birds and amphibians here as well, but it’s almost always in the reptile house. I love that you never know what’s going to be in those cages, even when they are labeled. 

The best part is looking into the cages, all full of anticipation and trepidation. I’m always terrified that some grotesque hairless mammal or many-legged amphibian will burst from its hiding place to smash up against the glass like the alien from Independence Day. Of course this never happens.

But the mystery of the nocturnal animals always draws me to that dim and deserted part of the zoo. The few people there speak in hushed tones and move slowly from display to display, murmuring to their companions and sometimes tentatively pointing to something at the back of a cage, always wondering how these creatures can live without the sun.

I can’t remember the last time I actually saw a nocturnal animal at the zoo, but I prefer it that way. The real thing can’t be better than the mystery.

Love, 

Gena

Breaking into Westminster

Dear Jenny,

I’m not sure if you are asking about how I would break into Westminster the castle or Westminster the dog show.  Breaking into a dog show would be much more amusing than a royal residence, in my opinion, so I’ll just assume you meant that.  I suppose my reasons are irrelevant, but let’s say I’m doing it to steal the dog that wins Best in Show.

First, we should discuss how to gain access to the backstage area. I assume that this area is fairly secure, so we shall have to pretend to belong.  The easiest person to impersonate would be a dog owner, because I won’t have to know how to do anything but look posh. To pretend to be a trainer or groomer would be much harder, as I would actually have to interact with a dog at some point (I’m not the best with animals).  So, wearing a pastel suit, sensible heels, and pearls, I would find myself backstage.

Obviously, I would have to wait until after the show to steal the winning dog. This part was a bit trickier for me to figure out. I think I would have to have several accomplices for this part, especially one who has access to show dogs. Once the winner was announced, I would contact my partner to tell him which breed one, and he would rush me another dog of that same breed. During the celebration after the show, a second accomplice would attempt to steal the winning dog.  As he fled, I would intercept him carrying the decoy dog, and pretend to recover the winning dog. He would escape with the actual winner, while I would return triumphant with the fake. This part will obviously work better with a smaller dog.  After I had returned the dog, I would make my excuses and leave quickly to claim whatever reward I was promised for kidnapping a show dog from Westminster.

I hope you enjoyed this hypothetical scenario, even if it is painfully obvious that I know nothing about heists. Please don’t ever ask me to actually steal anything. Thanks.

Love,

Gena

Monitor Lizards

Dear Joanna,

Did you know that monitor lizards can count? According to Wikipedia, they can count up to six, as well as work together to steal eggs from other lizard’s nests. I don’t know about you, but I find this terrifying.

I keep imagining I’m on vacation in India or Australia, anywhere the lizard makes its home, sleeping peacefully on crisp white sheets in a hotel by the beach. I jolt awake, not know why until I see the lizard at the bottom of the bed.  It advances slowly, keeping its black, empty eyes trained on mine. Its claws are leaving tiny triangle tears in the sheets. The moonlight turns its brown scales into a suit of pearls.  I try to move: kick it away, jump out of the bed, anything. Nothing works. I’m paralyzed, trapped in a bed with deranged foot-long lizard. 

I can’t look away as it reaches my left hand, slowly takes my thumb into its mouth, and with one savage twist, rips it off. I scream. It doesn’t stop the lizard from counting my fingers as it slowly eats them one by one.

Needless to say, this makes me very glad I live in Chicago, fat away from the natural habitat of the monitor lizard.

Love,

Gena