NO GNUS IS GOOD NEWS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-23-25)

     We recently went to a zoo that began like most other zoos, but didn't end up that way. I'll get to that. The Wild Animal Park in upstate Chittenango starts out with a walk through the various habitats, where animals can observe the odd behavior of humans and learn what not to do. 

     We started out at the caprine introductory reception area (I made up the title), where behind the fence frolicked a herd of goats of Biblical proportions. You couldn't call it a plague because they are so cute. A plague is like when I was in Egypt and an army of frogs emerged from the Nile unto the land, and wouldn't you know, I JUST washed my car. My wife insisted that I throw the food to the scrawniest, puniest, loser-est goat, the one who was definitely not the G.O.A.T. He was probably wondering why I hit him with a food pellet so many times, and the answer is because I was not aiming at him.

     There were several different types of monkeys, and you could watch their clowning behavior all day. There were spider monkeys, capuchins, baboons, and even two medium-sized titis, and let me tell you, that was quite a pair. There were big cats of many varieties. I've heard it said that cheetahs never prosper, but after all they were wearing fur and it looked real. There were tigers, lions, and even a leopard was spotted. There was a giant anteater, a most useless creature, since at my house the ants are very small.

     There is a platform where you can walk up, face a giraffe on its own level, and feed it a carrot. Everyone knows that the best way to a giraffe's heart is through its stomach, but it's also the most time-consuming. I couldn't wait, so I just assumed that my giraffe loved me based on some eye-contact that we shared. Our trip here was in early September, and there were many baby animals in the zoo at that time, including a newborn giraffe. So plan accordingly if you like babies, and you don't mind that they might eat you when they grow up.

     You can learn all kinds of things about the animals by reading the signs. Did you know that the gibbon mates for life, and sings a special song to the female? When we were there it sang "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe," by Barry White, so monkeys are not stupid. At the sika deer exhibit I learned that "sika" is Japanese for "deer," which is as self-explanatory as saying "people person." The southern ground hornbill has a low, hooting call that it repeats over and over and can be heard for miles, prompting its Mom to say, "That's ANNOYING."

     For an extra fee you can have a personal encounter with a sloth, and learn all about him. For instance you may be wondering, what is the difference between a two-toed sloth and a three-toed sloth? You can spend two hours with a him and he'll show you, after which time you are essentially dating.

     But the craziest part of the zoo was yet to come: a safari in your own car! The fellow at the ticket counter saw the bicycle on my car rack and asked if it was going to be okay. I said, of course, but then I had a vision of a mob of emus unlatching the two-wheeler and riding around terrorizing the other animals, and all of a sudden I wasn't so sure.

     Armed with four red Solo cups filled with wild animal food, we lit off on our journey around the 14-acre grounds. We got as far as 25 feet before the road was blocked by huge cattle with horns the size of traffic cones sticking straight out from the sides of their heads. If they actually were traffic cones we might have known not to drive in that direction, so we were stuck there until they dispersed, since it's impolite to honk at wild animals, and useless to check in on Waze.

     My sister Anne lives in the area and has been to the zoo many times. She knows how to get the most amusement for her buck, so she had us open all the windows, and she would point us all in one direction to look at something harmless, say, a zebra, and when we turned back around there was a gargantuan bison head two inches away from my own inside the car window, scaring the living daylights out of me so much that they weren't living after that. 

     Then the game was on, and elk, asses, llamas and buffalo were chasing those solo cups like a foam-starved fratboy following a frothy firkin. One camel dogged me as if I owed him money, which is entirely possible. We were laughing so hard even the hyenas told us to shut up.

     If you're a fan of the creatures we share the Earth with there is no better way to spend your day. My sister Diane loves animals so much that she said she helped an earthworm across the street, which I believe. She stepped on three others during this act of kindness, but it's the thought that counts. I am also a friend to all animals, and I couldn't bear to kill a spider that was in my basement. Instead, I trapped it using an internet scam, then paid for two years of group therapy, and now it works at MacDonalds.

A CONGREGATION OF CELEBRATION

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-09-25)

     Two weeks ago Gidget (The Cutest Dog in the Land) and I showed our civic appreciation by attending "Celebrate Somers" day at the Towne Center. We met some nice people, browsed the local businesses, saw some adorable little dancers and enjoyed the beautiful 80-degree weather. That's celebration enough, although I was hoping that there might be cake. Gidget did score some dog treats, which she saved till later. People often tell their kids not to accept candy from strangers, but I never subscribed to that advice, because in a candy-accepting relationship, I find it hard to believe that I would not be the stranger one.

     As we strolled around the square, we made some new friends, and ran into some old ones. And when I say "we," I am referring to Gidget, and the guy she drags around at the end of a leash (me). If she could answer questions regarding the makeup of her breed, how old she is and whether she sheds or not, she wouldn't need me around at all, and I'd have to come up with a convincing reason to hang around. 

     There were cheerleaders and dance teams of all age groups, and each group gave a little performance. There were some tiny little munchkins who were learning at a very early age that you could get people to do just about anything you wanted simply by virtue of being adorable, and whatever you couldn't get done that way, bonking them over the head with a pom-pom would probably do it. As one progressed farther up the age scale, it became apparent that if your Mom thought she could get you to clean your room by letting you join the group, it still wasn't going to happen unless they actually made it part of a dance routine.

     There were a bunch local businesses represented, and they make you realize that you really need to get out of the house once in a while and interact with other human beings. It's getting to be a lost art. There was a Pilates studio, for instance, which I'm told is a great way to stay in shape. "Wow, you do Pilates?" You ask. Well, I just did the one Pilate. If I did more, I might wake up my endorphins, which surely would make fun of me.

     Also represented were a chiropractor's office, a dentist's office, even a recruiting booth for the Somers Volunteer Fire Department, where you can save peoples' lives in your spare time. There was a booth for a day spa, so called because you can't spend the night there, even if you think that being covered head to toe in mud is preferable to hearing your husband dissect the reasons why the Giants offensive line is so offensive. Write me separately if you wish to do that. 

     There was a basketball player from the Harlem Wizards there who entertains every year. He teaches kids the finer points of ball handling and stunt dribbling, while dishing and goading them to distraction. It's fun when they do it right, and even more fun when they don't. Are these life skill you can eventually bring to the workplace? I say, YES! "Did you happen to look over my proposal?" You ask. "Yes I did, and I thought it was stupid." "Well give it back to me then, I'm going over your head." "Well, a.), I'm on the top floor, and b.), I took the proposal, passed it behind my back, through my right leg, then through my left, tossed it in the air and bounced it off my butt and out that open window." "Dude! we're on the 30th floor! Is that it down there? Didn't there used to be a hot dog guy down there? I guess he's not going anywhere for a while." "Not if he submits that proposal he's not."

     There was a whole parking lot dedicated to classic cars, and you could just wander around and check them out- I thought I recognized the back seat of one of them. Some had their hoods up, and my gear-head friends would love that. There was a Ford Taurus with its hood up that didn't look that classic, it just looked like maybe the battery was dead. But there were some nifty muscle cars, Camaros, some old Mustangs and Corvettes, and even a restored Model T. My very first car was a rusty, fusty, musty Fiat 128. I'm not saying it was a muscle car or anything, but consider that the stapedius muscle, while the smallest in the human body, is also extremely insignificant. My Dad once had a Dodge Dart "Swinger" the color of a banana that was suffering from extreme carsickness. As you might imagine, the amount of actual swinging you could do once an eligible female found out what your ride was, was minimal at best. "What you driving, Sugar?" "I roll with a Dodge Dart. It's got a slant-six engine, with a- Hey- where are you going? Did I happen to mention that I have 170 cubic inches under the hood, soaking wet?"

     There were many other dogs enjoying the day with their owners, and I tried to get Gidget to make some friends, but she prefers cats, and there were no cats that had penciled the day into their schedule . I told Gidget, you have to learn how to make friends with other dogs. Sneaking up behind somebody and sticking your pointy nose in their butt is no way to introduce yourself. It hardly ever works for humans, at least that's what I'm told.