9780008390662

puppy eyes
It’s midmorning, still pretty early. There aren’t many visitors around yet.
“We’ve got a meeting in twenty,” George tells a couple workers, Hank and
Sonia, who groan. “Just a quick one. Going over contingency plans one last
time, in case there’s any flooding.”
During the last hurricane, a small part of the park flooded, mostly near
Reptileville. George helped move cages. He came home smelling like
cottonmouths and copperheads. It was all I could do not to barf.
“Weather service just issued a tornado watch,” Hank says.
“I thought we were having a hurricane,” Julia says.
“We are. Gus. But sometimes tornadoes are spawned during hurricanes,”
George explains.
Julia frowns. “But a watch means ‘maybe,’ not ‘for sure,’ right?”
“Yeah, but I want you to head home,” George says, “just in case.”
“Please, Dad? Just ten minutes?” Julia says. She’s using the special voice she
reserves for moments when she really, really wants something from her
parents.
I guess kids manipulate their moms and dads the same way dogs manipulate
humans.
“I don’t know—” George begins.
“I promised Bob.”
I figure that’s my cue to pop my head out and look adorable. So I do.