make no sudden moves

I’ve ridden around the grounds of the park in Julia’s backpack enough to know every inch of the place. I’ve even chatted with many of the residents. But now everything is topsy-turvy. I keep finding myself in places I don’t want to be.

Like the wolf exhibit.

Near the entrance, a sign lies crushed on the ground. It has a picture of a gray wolf with an arrow pointing one way, and another arrow with an emperor penguin on it.

To my right I see a piece of hay, stuck deep in a tree trunk like a pencil in a cupcake.

To my left, water gushes from a pathside ditch. A broken pipe.

The boiling sky has settled into a solid blanket of gray, and the rain’s quieted to a steady drizzle. Still, I smell more bad weather menacing in the distance.

Tossed into a bush is a large informational display with a photo of two gray wolves. I don’t see any fence or barrier or intact wall. And it dawns on me that grumpy wolves and tiny dogs might not make the best of pals, especially under these trying circumstances.

Just as I start to leave, a wolf on the sign seems to move. To blink.

Oh.

He isn’t part of the sign. He’s next to the sign.

It’s Kimu.

“Hey,” I say.

No answer.

Something tells me I should hightail it outa there. Something else is saying, Make no sudden moves.

I hate it when my brain disagrees with itself.

I split the difference, crouching meekly. Doing the whole submissive dog thing.

Kimu locks his gaze on me. I try not to make direct eye contact. Lotta animals find that threatening. But his eyes are mesmerizing. Glowing amber and way too smart.

He moves again.

Two paws appear.

Big paws. Nothing like my feeble, shrimpy feet.

These paws are the size of hamburger buns.

Hamburger buns with lethal claws attached.