Zoo Stories, by Alward Edbee.
Saturday morning I took Ray to the zoo. When you're a zoo member, you can go an hour early. In the cool. Before the lassitude settles over everything like a plague of flies. Before the class trips come out.
The bad news about early morning zoot trips. The little bunnies in the petting zoo aren't awake yet. And they have little baby bunnies, too. I'm not that big on bunnies, mind you; for some reason I'm more comfortable around domesticated carnivores and omnivores than I am herbivores. Nevertheless, when your loved ones go all gooey over the things, you forget about all the french recipies for rabbit that you know. The good news. The gorillas are up. One of the female sat near the window and played with Ray. Ray would shake her head "no," and the gorilla would shake her head "yes." Want to know why gorillas are cool? They'll play with your kid. On the other side of the glass, of course. Plus, if you're really good, they'll pick their noses for you. A good part of having fun at the zoo is watching animal do things in public that humans have, uh, decided was bad taste.