October always reminds me of my late husband because it was our favorite month – not only because it was part of autumn, our favorite season,
but also because it was the month of both my birthday and our wedding
anniversary. So we designated it to be our “fun” month every year. Part of the fun
included taking a week off from our jobs and either traveling somewhere for the
week or staying close to home and venturing out on day trips every day.
The only problem we had when it came to day trips,
however, was my husband and I often had different ideas about what we
considered to be fun.
For example, I love zoos. I could spend hours just
watching the animals. But for some reason, my husband always thought
zoos were about as exciting as spending the day cleaning out the roof gutters. So
he was less than thrilled the first time I convinced him to take me to
Southwick’s Zoo in Mendon, Mass., about a 100-mile drive from our house.
The weather that October day was perfect – sunny and
crisp with bright blue skies.
“Isn’t this great?” I said to my husband after we paid
our admission and stepped into the zoo area.
He frowned as his eyes scanned our surroundings. “Have
you noticed how many steep hills this place has? If I have to climb all of
them, I’ll be grunting so hard, some wild African boar might break out of its
pen and attack me, thinking it’s a mating call!”
I suppose he did have a reason to be
concerned. After all, his idea of a strenuous workout was raising and
lowering the footrest on his recliner.
“I see benches everywhere, though,” I said. “You can just
sit down and rest whenever you feel tired. There’s no rush.”
As we walked past the wallaby and kangaroo exhibits, I
“oohed” and “aahed,” but my husband barely gave them a glance. He was too
busy staring at the next bench and judging whether or not he’d be able to make
the distance to it.
When he finally plunked down on one of the benches, I
noticed a nearby booth with a peephole in it and a sign below it that said,
“Red Bat.”
“While you’re resting,” I said, “I’m going to go look at
the bat!”
I climbed the steps up to the booth, cupped my hands
around the peephole so I could get a good look, and peered in. There,
hanging on the wall, was a baseball bat…painted red. I couldn’t help it, I
started to giggle.
I ended up giggling a lot while at Southwick’s…at
everything from the silly antics of the monkeys to the “Do Not Feed Fingers to
the Animals” signs on the exhibits.
But what made me laugh the most was something that
happened in the reptile house after I'd quietly walked in and stood
looking at one of the snakes. I was the only person in the building, other
than two female employees, who didn’t even notice me.
One of the employees disappeared into the back room and
then called out, “Hey, Jane! (or whatever her name was) Quick! Come back
here! You’ve GOT to see this!”
The other employee went out back, then immediately rushed
back out, rolling her eyes and shouting, “Why on earth would I want to see two
animals having sex?”
“Because it’s been so long since you’ve had it, I thought
you might have forgotten how!” the other one said, cracking up laughing as she
emerged from the back room.
At that point, I laughed, too. Both women’s heads
snapped in my direction. Never have I seen such deer-in-the-headlights
expressions.
“Oh, God,” the one who’d made the comment groaned in
embarrassment. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t think anyone else was in here!”
I still was chuckling when I left the reptile house and headed over to the next bench where my husband had parked himself.
“All set?” I
asked him. "Let's go check out the deer forest.”
Online, the deer forest had been described as acres of
peaceful forestland where the deer roamed freely and guests could sit at picnic
tables and enjoy the day just watching the animals or mingling with them.
“If it's more than 10 feet from here,” my husband said,
“I'll never make it. You can go. I’ll just sit here and wait for you.”
“I’m not going to go sit all by myself at some table in
the woods!” I said. "You've had time to rest now, so you'll do just
fine. Come on, let's go."
To my dismay, the climb to the deer forest was longer and
steeper than I’d anticipated. I could tell by my husband’s huffing, puffing and
profuse sweating, there was a strong possibility he wasn’t enjoying the
hike.
“Look, water buffalo!” I said brightly in an attempt to
distract him from his complaining as we passed by the African Plains exhibit.
“And zebras!”
He grabbed onto the fence and clasped his chest. “Where
the heck are the deer?” he wheezed.
“Up there.” I pointed to a gate at the top of the hill.
He groaned. “Then just leave me here to die with the
water buffalo.”
But I refused to budge another inch without him. When we
finally made it to the deer forest, he plopped down at the first picnic table
we came to, even though it wasn’t in the most scenic spot in the
area. Then we waited to see all of the deer.
Fifteen minutes later, we still were waiting.
I walked over to one of the nearby deer-food machines and
got a handful just in case a deer finally did decide to show up. The minute I
turned the crank on that machine, deer magically appeared from everywhere,
popping out from behind trees and leaping over bushes.
ME, IN MY GLORY!
By the time we left the deer forest, I was covered with
deer hair and drool, but I was smiling. My husband was smiling, too – not only
because the walk back was all downhill, but also because we finally were
leaving and heading home.
I had a great time at the zoo. In fact, I already
was planning a return visit.
“Can we go back to Southwick’s next October?” I asked my
husband later that night. “I really enjoyed myself today.”
He grimaced. “I’ll let you know once my calves, knees,
back and eyebrows stop hurting.”
We did return during future Octobers…two more times. But
as a trade-off, I had to go with my husband to two model-train shows, which
were his choice of fun.
Granted, the train shows were interesting, but I think
they would have been a lot more exciting if they’d have added a few live
animals to the exhibits.
Just sayin’…
Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.
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