9780008390662

tennis ball
The way I understand things, it’s like this. We live on a lonely ball called
Earth, and humans have basically been throwing it against the wall for so
long that the poor ol’ ball is falling apart.
It’s like me with a tennis ball, chewing away until it’s nothing but pieces of
slimy rubber that taste like, well, slimy rubber.
And that means there aren’t as many places left for wild animals.
Seems there are good zoos and bad zoos and good sanctuaries and bad
sanctuaries, just like there are good dog families and bad dog families. The
good places are trying to keep wild species healthy and safe. They don’t want
endangered animals to go away forever.
They also don’t want the Earth to turn into a slimy, dilapidated tennis ball.
Although honestly, slimy rubber doesn’t taste half bad.
You should try it sometime.
The thing is, I would give anything to see my dear pal Ivan deep in the
jungles of Africa, where he was born. Or to see Ruby running across the
savanna with a herd of elephants, her big ol’ ears flapping in the wind.
I’d give up a mile-high pile of bacon cheeseburgers to see that happen. I
really would.
But it ain’t happening. I get that, and so do they.
When you’re an animal, it helps to be a realist.