Bob had a funny face. At least, that was what some of the other children at his school told him. Sometimes they used more hurtful words than “funny”. Sometimes they called Bob “Blob”.

Bob was born with his funny face. He had lived with it for all of his ten years. In fact, he came from a family of funny faces. His grandpa, who he lived with in the old man’s tiny flat, had a funny face too. You could trace the funny faces back for generations.

The boy knew his funny face made him stand out at school, and often it made him feel shy.

Grandpa would tell his grandson, “Be proud of your funny face, young Bob. You come from a very long line of funny faces.”

But Bob didn’t like it one bit. Sometimes he thought having a funny face was the worst thing in the world.

The boy’s favourite place was the local zoo. Grandpa would take his beloved grandson there every year as a special treat on Bob’s birthday. Together they would marvel at all the animals, and Grandpa would make up funny stories about how they got to look the way they did.

“The elephant has a trunk so she can tap other animals on the shoulder when she’s lost and needs to ask for directions.”

“The giraffe has a long neck as she’s very nosy and likes to look over garden walls.”

“The orang-utan grows his hair long because he’s a big fan of rock music and likes to headbang.”

“The zebra is black and white because he can’t make decisions and didn’t know what colour he wanted to be.”

“Penguins are birds who can’t fly themselves as they prefer to travel by aeroplane so they can enjoy the in-flight meal.”

The zoo was full of animals with funny faces just like Bob’s, so he always felt at home there. His grandpa had long been retired, and barely had enough money to put food on the table, so the pair could only afford to visit the zoo once a year.

This year, however, when Grandpa emptied his piggy bank, it was bad news.

“I’m sorry, Bob,” said the old man, as he looked at the three tiny copper coins and one chipped button on the table. “I won’t be able to take you to the zoo this year for your birthday.”

Bob hid his disappointment. He didn’t want to see his grandpa sad. “That’s OK. We can always go next year.”

“Yes. There’s always next year,” replied the old man, as he avoided the boy’s gaze.

Bob loved his grandpa, but life could be hard because they had no money. All Bob’s clothes were a size too small, and his shoes were falling apart.

So on the day of his eleventh birthday, Bob took a detour on his walk home from school, and headed to the zoo. There was a tall tree overlooking the grounds, and Bob climbed it. That way at least he could see his animal friends on his birthday, even from a distance. The boy clung tightly to a branch, and took in the view. He could see all the animals from up there.

Looking down, Bob daydreamed he was piloting a propeller plane flying over the African savanna on a safari. In his dream, he was swooping over herds of magnificent beasts …

“Oi!” came a voice.

It broke the spell cast by the daydream.

“OI!”

Bob looked down. A zookeeper was shouting up at him from the camel’s enclosure, bucket and shovel in hand. The old man was standing next to a huge pile of steaming camel dung. The smell snaked up Bob’s nostrils, and he steadied himself on the branch of the tree.

“Oi! What are you doing up there, boy?” shouted the zookeeper.

“I fell,” lied the boy.

The old man laughed heartily. “Ha! Ha! Ha! You can’t fall up a tree! Now come on, boy, what are you really doing up there?”

“Nothing,” replied Bob. The boy didn’t want to get into trouble for stealing a free look at the animals. He wasn’t sure if that was a crime or not, but Bob hated getting into trouble.

“You’re all the way up a great tall tree, boy!” said the man. “You must be doing something!”

“It’s my birthday today. And I always come to the zoo on my birthday.”

“Happy birthday!” said the zookeeper.

“Thank you. But this year Grandpa couldn’t afford to take me, and I really, really, really wanted to see the animals. I love animals …”

“So do I! Come on down, boy!” said the zookeeper. “I can let you in for free.”

“Are you sure?” Bob’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Yes! Especially as it’s your birthday!”

Bob shimmied down the tree. By the time he’d reached the ground, the keeper had appeared at the back gate of the zoo. He wore dungarees and a friendly smile. There was a whiff of animal dung about him, which was hardly surprising considering his job.

“So, what’s your name, young sir?”

“Bob.”

“Mr Bob! Welcome back to Sir Basil’s Zoo,” said the keeper, opening the gate.

The man had a quick look around to make sure nobody had spotted them.

“Thank you so much for this, sir,” said the boy.

“Winston! Call me Winston!”

“Thank you, Winston.”

“Now come in, Mr Bob! Quick as you like! If the zoo owner spots us, we’re both in trouble as big as the biggest hippopotamus dropping. And, trust me, that is big.”

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble,” said Bob, a flash of worry crossing his face.

“You won’t if you’re quick, Mr Bob. It’s a pleasure to meet someone who clearly loves animals as much as I do. Most of our little visitors run straight for the gift shop to buy a dinosaur pencil case. Even though we don’t even have any dinosaurs at the zoo! Now, what animals would you like to see today? Let me guess. The tiger?”

“No!”

“The penguins?”

“No!”

“The elephant?”

“No!”

“The zebra?”

“No!”

“The giraffe?”

“No!”

The zookeeper was befuddled. Everyone liked those animals the best, especially the children.

“What then, Mr Bob?”

“I like the animals no one else likes. The ones with the funny faces.”

“Good for you, Mr Bob!” exclaimed the zookeeper. “I bet those would really like a visit. They so often get ignored. Now run along, Mr Bob, before the owner, Sir Basil Basildon, spots you.”

“Thank you so much, Winston!”

The boy ran off into the zoo, his heart pounding with excitement.