In our travels, we have often visited the local zoo, more out of desperation to keep our kids occupied than any inherent interest in the animals. I mean, when you have twin six year olds, you have all the feral viciousness you need. In Adelaide, we were surprised that our children ignored the animals, as they were immediately fixated on the crappy playground equipment jammed next to the cafe that sold danishes in the shape of most zoo animals. By the age of thirteen, our children have already seen all the animals a zoo could provide (as well as most danish shapes). Or so we thought.
But the Nagoya Zoo held a dark secret.
You can enter the zoo via the Nagoya Botanical Gardens so (because Amy) that's what we did. After a thoughtful hour of gazing at shrubbery, we wended our way to the zoo proper and that's when we saw a forbidding black enclosure that loomed over the zoo. The kind of enclosure that can only hold the most terrifying and dangerous creatures.
Was it the apex predator?
No ... it was the penultimate apex predator.
The fools have squirrels!
Now, I know what you're thinking. This is just another example of my loose relationship with truth in blogging. There is no way the Japanese have the hubris to think they could harness the unbridled destructive potential of the Sciuridae, a little known branch of the Illuminati. But in this instance I am blameless. They have squirrels.
It was immediately apparent to me that the Japanese failed to appreciate the risks they now face. As those of us in the US northeast understand, squirrels are the equivalent of a biological nuclear weapon, a "cute" pathogen that can replicate at a terrifying speed and will terrorize your dog and eat your birdseed and tear apart your pumpkins at Halloween just because they can. It's a numbers game. Once they outnumber you (and they will), it's a matter of time until they escape. And then it's game over.
When I reached the entry door, there were signs that the Japanese had come to realize their folly too late. And when I mean signs, I mean actual signs (not just the armed guards dressed in hasmat suits).
Prevent the squirrel from escaping. That's all you need to read. Because that's exactly what they're going to do.
And you think closing a door is going to stop them?
But it was this phrase that gave me a chill. Two doors for prevention of "desertion." That has a militaristic feel to it. Could the Japanese be secretly cultivating a platoon of rodents trained in black ops or guerrilla warfare? Given what their little hands can do to Amy's pumpkins, just imagine what they could do to a person. Look at the facial expression of the squirrel on top. If the CIA gets wind of this, squirrelboarding can't be far behind.
Proving my point, the squirrel detention facility was closed every time I tried to visit. What are they trying to hide, I kept asking myself and my family. Nevertheless, my persistence (and daily visits) paid off handsomely, as I was able to get evidence of the squirrel infestation.
"I got you, you bastard," I remember thinking. Or maybe shouting. It's possible I shouted, because Tessa stopped talking to me for a week after taking this pic.
