The Last Zoo, a short story Read online

I didn't regret it immediately. The kid actually helped some. It was a big park and even with hardly nothing in it, there was always something to do. And annoying though he was, Max was at least some human company. The first week passed, and I was feeling that maybe it would be OK. Then, my check arrived.

  Someone had noticed that I'd signed the “interim director” line on the kid's form. Someone in the accounting department. The check was more than double my usual amount. I stood by the front gate mailbox for a long time just staring at that paper, trying to decide how to feel about it. I needed the money, hell yes. My son was overseas in that God-awful never-ending desert war, and I was helping out my daughter-in-law and grandkids with whatever I could spare. But I didn't take money that didn't belong to me. All of Mr. Sato's change stood in a jar by my desk. I did use some of it from time to time for the zoo, but I had every expenditure noted in case anyone ever checked.

  But this was a whole other thing. If I cashed a check intended for an interim zoo director, and the mistake was discovered—that might just be my last check. Then again, if I pointed out the mistake, that would surely stir up something. The accounting folks might decide to tell the higher-ups, and I might be tossed out anyway, without this money I was holding right here in my hand. Keep your head down, I said to myself. It had worked for me so far. Only I wasn't sure how best to apply it in this case.

  Mr. Sato found me there still staring at the check. “Hey! You should see what the kid has done!”

  With a bad feeling, I put the paper in my pocket and followed Mr. Sato over to the Elephant Yard. At first, everything looked all right: big empty raked ground except for the pigeons roosting in the oversized shelters. Then I saw the new sign. A computer-print out was slid underneath the glass of the old lion sign:

  Columbia livia: Urban Pigeons or “Rock Doves”

  Seen here in their natural habitat, the ubiquitous “rock dove” has adapted well to modern cities. Pigeons mate for life and produce a type of “crop milk” to feed their young. A highly visual species, they could be capable of abstract thought. Some can even identify all 26 letters of the alphabet.

  I had to admit it sounded factual enough, though I think that's the first time I'd ever seen the word “ubiquitous” on one of them educational signs.

  “You ever hear of such a clever boy?” Mr. Sato punched me in the shoulder. “He found a way to bring animals back to the zoo. They’re already here!” The old man obviously thought the whole thing was hilarious.

  I went to find Max.

  On my way, I passed more signs. There was one under the old oak tree for the squirrels, another for the chipmunks that had taken over the gopher mound. Then one for the sparrows by the old concession stand. I couldn't find kid, so I went back to my office, and I saw that Max had put a sign next to the bowls I left out for the feral cats. That really tore it.

  I finally found the kid in one of the empty labs with his laptop, making a sign for raccoons. Raccoons!

  “What the hell do you think your doing?” I asked.

  “Just trying to shift the zoo paradigm.” Max didn't look up from his computer screen.

  “Pair of what?”

  “The paradigm. I'm trying to change how people see zoos and themselves and really the whole world around them.”

  “That's lovely,” I said “Now you go take every one of them damn signs down.”

  “Hey Franky, relax. You already signed the paperwork. Did you read it carefully? I'm allowed to 'develop several exhibits as a way of generating new resources for the zoo.'”

  I could tell by the way he used air quotes that he was sure he was right. I went to look at the form any way. There it was in the smaller print, of course. I should have worn my reading glasses, and I should have never signed that form! I took my check out of my pocket again. If the kid was going to get me fired, I might as well get paid in the meantime. In for a penny, in for a pound. That's something Mr. Sato might say.