“What the HELL?”

Olive and I spotted a giant otter today. Walking on two spindly legs down the sidewalk. It was about five-and-a-half feet tall. I’m not kidding. Well actually I am. As we neared the last leg of our 45-minute walk this bright, beautiful, but windy morning, I spot a very lanky person up ahead of us, dressed in a dark brown hoodie with matching brown pants. The hood was up and tightly cinched, giving the impression that this bulbous head did not have a human face. Admittedly, we only saw it from the back, but the image of an otter was the first thing that came to mind. “LOOK OLIVE, IT’S AN OTTER,” I softly remark aloud. And because whenever I say the word “LOOK” out loud to Olive with a sense of urgency in my voice, her head spins around looking for SOMETHING. The otter crosses the street in front of us, continuing in the opposite direction. We round the corner and up ahead is a gigantic white dog. From far away it looks like an albino bison. Olive is starting to get very excited. A potential new rump to sniff. “GEEZ, WHAT’S GOING TO BE AROUND THE NEXT CORNER?” I wonder. A giant blue yak? I look at Olive and the expression on her face is a priceless mix of quizzical apprehension and intense biological interest. “SO OLIVE, DID YOU LIKE YOUR TRIP TO THE ZOO TODAY?” She doesn’t hear me. She’s genetically tuned-in to the odorless scents wafting from the bison’s behind.