Billy walked up and down the aisles of Fur ’N Feathers Pet Store, his ears filled with the sounds of the animals in every section. Parakeets chirped, lovebirds cooed, and parrots squawked. Puppies yelped, cats meowed, and if you had very good ears, you could even hear the sound of snakes slithering across the sand at the bottom of their glass terrariums. He was so involved in looking into every cage, that the sound of the store owner’s voice almost sent him flying out of his shoes.
“I can sense it,” she said to Billy. “Can you?”
Billy turned to her and was about to ask what she meant, but she put a finger up to her lips.
“Shhh, listen. I can hear the buzz of excitement. Everyone here is so happy you’re in the shop, and they all want to get to know you. Who would you like to meet first? Oh, why don’t we start with me? I’m Daisy Cole.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cole.”
“Call me Daisy — everyone does.”
From a perch over the cash register, a gray parrot squawked, “Daisy. Daisy.”
“See, I wasn’t kidding,” Daisy laughed. “That’s Robert over there on the perch. He and I have been together since he was an egg. Isn’t that right, Bobby, honey?”
Robert didn’t answer in words. Instead, he burst into a rollicking chorus of “You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog.” Daisy laughed.
“That Robert, he’s a big Elvis Presley fan,” she giggled. “He’s got great rhythm for a parrot, don’t you think?”
Billy didn’t really have much of an opinion about that, since he didn’t know any other singing parrots to compare him with.
“Is this your shop, Daisy?” he asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“Oh, this isn’t a shop, this is a play space for all my creature friends. Now, how can I help you?”
“Well, my name is Billy Broccoli, and I’ve recently moved into the neighborhood.”
“Don’t tell me, you’re looking for a puppy for your new house.”
“Soon, maybe, but not today. I need something in a smaller size that would help teach this person I know to be responsible to others.”
“Can I assume we’re talking about a brother or sister?”
“Definitely, absolutely, without a doubt, no. This guy is no relation to me. I think of him more as a project.”
“Well, that’s a very thoughtful thing for a friend to do.”
“I didn’t say he was a friend, either. He kind of just floats around my house being a pain in the neck.”
“So he’ll need a soothing pet, one that will keep him calm. I have just the thing.”
Daisy clopped down the aisle in her red patent leather clogs. At the sound of her footsteps, all the animals started to yelp, bark, meow, squawk, chirp, or whatever else they did … and scampered up to the front of their enclosures. They were happy to see Daisy, and she was thrilled to see them, too.
“Hi, Freddy! Hello, Andrea! I love you, too, Buttercup!” she sang as she walked down the aisle. Her enthusiasm was boundless, and as Billy followed her, he found himself feeling warmth for every animal he saw, including the snakes … which would normally have given him a large dose of the creeps. At the end of the aisle, Daisy stopped at a glass tank, where a dark brown creature with a white stripe down its back was standing perfectly still on a green branch. She turned to Billy and smiled.
“Meet Berko,” she beamed. “He’s a fat-tailed gecko.”
“Doesn’t it hurt Berko’s feelings when you call his tail fat?”
Daisy laughed again, and when she did, Robert the parrot imitated the sound of her giggle exactly, which set off all the other animals. It was like a laugh factory in there.
“Fat-tailed gecko is the name of this species,” Daisy explained. “They store their fat in their tails. If they lose their tail in a fight, they grow another one, but often it looks more like a head than a tail.”
“Sounds borderline disgusting,” Billy said. “And the reason I’d want this guy as a pet is why, exactly?”
“Berko is very calm. He sleeps through the night, and as you can see, he has such soulful eyes. Sometimes I wonder what deep thoughts are running through his sweet little lizard brain.”
“Maybe that a fly would taste delicious right about now,” Billy suggested.
“Actually, it’s probably a cricket he’s craving. Berko loves crickets, don’t you, Berkie, honey. Yes, you are mommy’s little hungry lizard.”
Billy bent down and stared into Berko’s soulful eyes, trying to see even one deep thought rolling around in there. But all he saw was his own reflection staring back at him from Berko’s shiny black eyeballs.
“Hey, Berko,” he began. “How would you like to come home with me?”
Berko shot out his tongue. Apparently, he didn’t quite understand how long it was, because it smashed into the glass and bent at a ninety-degree angle.
“Easy there, buddy. I’m not a cricket.”
“Berko was just giving you a high-tongue-five,” Daisy said. “It’s his way of saying yes. He’s such a positive little gecko.”
Billy looked closely at Berko, wondering if this was an animal the Hoove could get along with. He didn’t seem to require much care, which was a good thing, because the Hoove was going to have to ease into responsibility. Billy knew the Hoove certainly couldn’t start off with a pet like a rabbit, which required a lot of care, especially cleaning up those pellets that seemed to fall fairly frequently from the area under their cute little cotton tails. And Daisy had said that Berko was very calm and slept through the night. That worked well with Hoover Porterhouse’s Rule Number 26, “Never disturb my beauty sleep.”
“How much is he?” Billy asked Daisy. “I only have twelve dollars and forty-three cents.”
“That is amazing,” Daisy exclaimed, clapping her chubby hands together in delight, “because this particular gecko is on sale this week for exactly that amount!”
“What about his tank?” Billy asked.
“If you promise to take good care of my little Berko, I’ll throw that in for free. Plus, two delicious crickets that will last him for one week.”
“I can’t thank you enough for this deal,” Billy said to Daisy.
“I’m always happy to find a good home for one of my little darlings,” Daisy said. “You have to promise to come back soon and tell me how Berko and your friend are getting along.”
Daisy transferred Berko, his water dish, his green branch, and a plastic rock cave into a smaller glass tank, and then walked up and down the aisles so that Berko could say good-bye to all of his creature friends.
“Everyone wish him well,” she called out, and hearing that, Robert burst into a chorus of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” Berko wasn’t going to San Francisco, but try explaining that to a parrot.
As Billy walked home carrying the tank, he wanted to explain to Berko what he was about to encounter. Of course, he knew a fat-tailed gecko wouldn’t understand what he was saying, but he thought maybe Berko could pick up something from his tone of voice.
“The Hoove is a ghost,” he said slowly and patiently as he walked down Moorepark Avenue, past the dry cleaners and Hugo’s taco stand. “He can have a bit of an attitude, so just be really friendly and give him time to adjust to you.”
Some of the customers at Hugo’s were giving Billy strange looks, so he stopped talking. When he reached his house, he took Berko in through the back door so he could go directly to his room undetected.
“Hoove,” he whispered as he kicked the door open with his foot. “Are you here? I’ve got an amazing surprise for you!”
Billy looked around and didn’t see anything but the new blue walls and an open window. As he put the tank down on top of his desk, he heard the whistling of “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and one second later, half of the Hoove appeared perched on the windowsill. It was as if he was split right down the center. He looked at Billy with one eye, which was the only one that was visible, and spoke out of only one side of his mouth.
“It’s about time you got back,” he said.
“Why is there only half of you?” Billy asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s these paint fumes. I know you think that all I have to do is whistle ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad’ and I materialize. But it’s not that easy. It takes concentration, and I really think these fumes are interfering with my ability to focus.”
“Well, it’s highly weird looking at only half of you.”
“Hey, half of me is better than the whole of most people.”
“If you do say so yourself.”
“I just did. So what’s the big surprise?”
“You’re going to thank me, Hoove, for what I am about to do for you. I have a plan that is not only going to get you ungrounded, but could just get you an A in Responsibility to Others.”
“I could use an A. Spill it, Shorty. What-cha got?”
“This,” Billy answered, reaching into the tank and gently lifting Berko out of it. He put the little gecko in the palm of his hand and started across the room so the Hoove could get a clear look. When he got to the windowsill, he held his hand right up to the Hoove’s face. He wanted to get close because he wasn’t sure if having only one eye visible meant that the Hoove could only see half a gecko.
Instantaneously, the other half of the Hoove appeared, and the look of sheer horror on his face said it all. Screaming, the Hoove zoomed off the windowsill and rocketed across the room, zipping right through the closet door. Billy and Berko swiveled their heads in unison.
“Get that thing away from me!” the Hoove yelled from the closet. His muffled voice sounded more scared than Billy had ever heard it before.
“It’s just a little gecko,” Billy called. “I got it for you to take care of. To show the Higher-Ups that you can put someone else’s needs before yours.”
“I’m not taking care of that thing. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
“What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I’m allergic to lizards.”
“You mean they make you itch or give you red bumpy things on your upper arms?”
“No. It means I dislike them intensely.”
“Come on out, Hoove. This is Berko. You’ll like him.”
“Is he a lizard?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I don’t like him. And I never will. As long as he’s out there, I’m staying in here.”
Billy felt frustration rising in his voice, but he tried to remain calm. He knew that if he exploded at the Hoove, his plan would fail completely. He tried to take the logical route.
“Listen, Hoove. There is nothing scary about this gecko. He gets along well with others, he’s a good sleeper, and enjoys an occasional cricket.”
“That’s it,” the Hoove shouted from the closet. “Not another word, especially about chewable crickets. Thank him very much for coming, he was a real sport about it. And give him my very best wishes as he goes back to whatever cave he crawled out of.”
Billy looked down at Berko, who seemed so sweet and innocent. The poor little guy had no idea what had just happened. And Billy had no idea how he was going to explain to Daisy that he wasn’t going to be able to keep Berko.
“Hoove, I really think you should get to know him,” Billy coaxed. “He has very soulful eyes.”
Without waiting for an answer, Billy opened the closet door and found the Hoove tucked inside the pocket of his navy blue winter parka. Only his head and one arm were hanging out — the rest of him was snuggled neatly inside.
“Here,” Billy said, thrusting Berko in front of the Hoove’s startled eyes. “I dare you to look at him and tell me you don’t love him.”
Berko stared up at the Hoove and flicked his tongue out in a friendly gesture. A look of total disgust flashed across the Hoove’s face, and suddenly, a tangy orange smell filled the closet. Berko’s nostrils flared as he took in the scent. He must have liked it because instantly he squirmed out of Billy’s hand and sprang over to the parka, landing right next to the pocket that held the Hoove. Billy tried to grab him, but Berko was too fast. He scurried up the fabric, climbed over the edge, and disappeared into the depths of the pocket.
“Yowee kazowee!” the Hoove bellowed. “This lizard is setting up camp in my underwear! Either he goes or I go.”
“Get back here right now, Berko,” Billy called. “This is no way to make a good first impression!”
“First impression, second impression, last impression,” the Hoove said. “There is no good impression. That is final. I have spoken.”
And with that, he zoomed out of the parka pocket and took off across the room, flapping his arms and legs as if the little lizard was still attached to him. He was in full-fledged panic mode.
Billy knew that he had lost the argument. There was no doubt that the Hoove was permanently finished with the gecko conversation and had nothing more to contribute other than flapping limbs and a sour orange smell that filled the room with tangy displeasure.