The One and Only Bob (The One and Only Ivan #2)(10)

Cave humans were sitting around a fire, wearing mammoth fur and grunting about how there was nothing on TV because TV hadn’t been invented yet, and some wily wolf thought, Whoa, they’ve got leftover mammoth meat!

And he probably whimpered and cowered and did a tummy display and looked pathetic enough that Mr. Oog finally tossed him a bone. And soon enough, a few zillion years later: voilà! Man’s best friend.

After all that time, there’s a thing, like a magnetic attraction, between dogs and humans. We’ve studied them for so long we can read every twitch and sigh.

S’pose it was easier than chasing down mammoths.

And I get it. I do.

The behind-the-ear scratch. The food in a fancy bowl. The bed by the fireplace.

Gotta admit that Julia’s pretty fun to hang out with. And I’m grateful, really I am, that her family took me in.

Still, I don’t need them.

You need someone, eventually they let you down and you end up feeling like a real doofus.





the park


As Julia walks, I sneak peeks out of her backpack, like I always do.

We pass the meerkat family, poking out from their den holes like the Whac-A-Mole game they used to have at Mack’s mall. I see the flashy flamingos, with their one-legged balancing act. And the terrifyingly beautiful tigers. Even their cute cubs give me the willies.

Families, I’ve noticed, take a lot of different shapes. Jim and Joe, the penguins, adopted an abandoned egg, and they are the sweetest doting parents you ever saw. I see it with humans at the park, too. Families of all shapes and sizes and colors and genders and yep, they all seem to do just fine.

We round a corner past Sea Otter Alley. Oliver and Olivia are floating calmly on their backs, holding each other’s paws. It’s pretty adorable, I have to admit. But me, I don’t need the trouble that comes with family.

Babies puking. Toddlers whining. Spouses nagging.

Talk about a design flaw.





change


The park’s pretty big. Lots of twisty paths and fascinating smells. All the parts have names. There’s the African Aviary. The Outback. Penguin Cove. Lemur Land.

It’s like puzzle pieces of the world—a little Africa here, a little Asia there.

Dogs, you can find us pretty much everywhere. Our territory is Earth. As long as we’re hooked up with humans, that is.

Along the shady paths, volunteer guides will answer your questions. They’ll tell you about how animals used to roam one part of the world or another until things changed.

Things change.

That’s one thing I’ve figured out. Don’t ever assume a little patch of the planet belongs to you.

Things change. Boxes go flying.





my inner wolf


On our way, we always stop by the wolf habitat. Julia loves wolves. Probably because they remind her of me.

You have to look hard, maybe squint a little, but if you try, you can catch a hint of my inner wolf.

It’s in the eyes, mostly. Also in my distinguished profile.

I dream I’m a wolf sometimes, and when I wake up, I’m panting and my fur’s on alert and I’m feeling Yeah, the world could hurt me, but I could hurt the world right back even harder. Like there’s a dangerous, hard part of me chained inside, struggling to go free and just, I dunno, get even.

Then I go see what’s for breakfast.





kimu


There’s a gray wolf at the park who makes me a little jittery.

Jittery, as in I sometimes worry he might like to eat me.

His name is Kimu, and we struck up a conversation when a mutual acquaintance of ours, a mockingbird called Mitch, introduced us one day.

Like Nutwit, Mitch likes to taunt me because I’m domesticated. Gives me a lot of grief about how free he is, soaring stringless over the whole town.

“I’m not the only one who’s pampered,” I said one day. “I mean, look at Kimu. He’s not exactly running wild.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. And when I looked at Kimu’s I could kill you with one quick bite expression, I really regretted them.

“In any case,” I said, moving the subject along, “I’ve lived wild. It ain’t a picnic for a dog.”

“What was it like?” Kimu asked. He moved closer to the edge of his domain. He had a strange odor, intense and scary and a little bit intoxicating.

“Well, I was just a pup,” I said. “Abandoned by the side of the highway.”

Kimu was listening intently. “Must have been tough.”

“All I could think of was food, water.” I didn’t like the catch in my voice. “Owl got me.”



“Those guys are fierce,” Kimu said. “Can’t hear them coming.”

“I know, right?” I relaxed a little.

“I hate owls,” said Mitch. “Hate them with a passion. They eat birds, you know.”

“So do wolves,” said Kimu, giving Mitch a meaningful look.

“So you were . . . wild once?” I asked Kimu.

“Never. Born and raised in captivity. Suzu, over there? She was. She’s told us stories that would curl your fur.”

“Honestly, it’s nice to have a roof over my head. It’s tough out there, man. Really tough.”