Our Animal Friends, or: Only the Dolphins Know
CB Anderson
30 September 2022
I
Visiting the zoo made the girl sad, but her mother liked it. Our animal friends, the mother said. In exchange for free admission, she gave the girl’s outgrown clothes to the zoo. Mostly it was the chimpanzee who wore them. Once when the girl and her mother showed up, the chimp had on one of the girl’s sundresses. Adorable, the mother said. She started filming with her phone. The chimp swung from bar to bar until the dress caught and loudly tore. The chimp hooted. The mother stopped filming. She said, I don’t know why they didn’t hem it.
II
The octopus watched for the electric eel. The woman snorkeling through the fronds did not. The eel’s eyes were gray pearls. When he nuzzled her, a shock— pain and then an opening. The ocean filled with iridescent fins and scales, and she cartwheeled through before and after, through indecision and what could be. The current carried her to shore in time for her impending marriage, and the octopus settled back into her den.
III
She lived with a crow in her apartment. She hadn’t foreseen it: the hatchling left all day in the grass, the decision to carry him upstairs. Making him puree. He wouldn’t eat, and then he did. He grew. The woman taught him words. He learned to fly. After a month, she opened her window to free him. But he didn’t go. A year passed. One day, a dog barked from below. The crow flew to the sill. Hello, he said. The dog barked again. The crow leaned out: Hello. The woman laughed. Hello, she said. The crow turned to her and barked, and she felt his magnificence.
IV
He disliked documentaries yet watched one with his granddaughter. Elephants. Then it was late, and he went to bed. In the morning, his wife asked why he’d cried out in his sleep. Never mind, he said. Come on. The two of them got in their pickup and drove to Petco. Inside, they greeted the hamsters, the parakeets and fish. They adopted a tiger cat named Stan. That was a nice surprise, the woman said on the way home, and Stan agreed, though he’d wanted a parakeet, too.
V
Had the dolphins meant to capsize the kayaks? The family discussed it that night in their vacation condo. It had happened fast: the four of them paddling past mangroves, dolphins nearby, then the kayaks flipped and the dolphins were gone. Not on purpose, the son said. We ran into them. This was a family who enjoyed nature and owned two Weimaraners. A Prius was parked outside. The father checked their dinner steaks, found them nicely rare. He said, Animals can be tricky. The mother shrugged. She said, Anyway, we’re safe.
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Fiction
CB Anderson’s fiction has appeared in The Iowa Review, Pangyrus, Pleiades, Crazyhorse, Tupelo Quarterly, Indiana Review, and Hayden’s Ferry, among others. Her book Home Now received honorable mention in the 2020 New York Book Festival, and her collection River Talk was of Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2014. She lives in Maine with her family and teaches writing at Boston University.