The Zoo at the School 1955

One week before the end of the school year, Mrs. Mundy told all of us students that we would have a picnic before the summer holidays began, and our parents were invited. When she added that we could each bring a pet to school, the girls squealed excitedly while the boys made whistling noises through their teeth. Mrs. Mundy also promised to award a prize for the best pet.

My mother wasn’t fond of bringing animals to school and didn’t think Mrs. Mundy was making a wise decision. She called my grandma to see what she thought of the whole thing and became frustrated when Grandma told her she was fussing over nothing. As I watched my mother stomp around the house, grumbling about the picnic, I worried she’d try to convince the other parents not to let us bring our pets to school.

“Audrey, can you stop stirring the pot before you ruin the picnic for everyone?” Dad asked.

At first, I couldn’t decide which pet I should take: our cat, Taffy, or our Cocker Spaniel, Blondie. Aunt Norma said Blondie would surely win the Best Pet prize because she was so beautiful. My mother had bathed her the night before the picnic and brushed her coat until it looked like cornsilk. For someone who claimed she didn’t want anything to do with pets at school, my mother had made our dog look like she belonged in a movie.

The next morning was sunny and warm. “It’s a perfect day for a picnic,” my dad declared at breakfast.

“Maybe so, but I'm still not sure it’s a good day for a zoo at the school,” said Mum.

Dad and I ignored her comments and continued to stash our lawn chairs and picnic basket into the car. Just before we headed to the school, Mum tied a big blue satin ribbon around Blondie's neck. Blondie seemed to know she looked beautiful as she padded around the house, showing off her beautiful blue bow and fluffed-up fur.

“I think Blondie is smiling. She likes how she looks,” Mum said.

“And I think your imagination is in overdrive,” Dad replied.

“Well, I think Blondie is beautiful, and she will win the prize,” I said confidently.

When we arrived at the school, several parents had already set up folding tables for the food and were busy helping their kids with their pets. Mrs. Mundy stood on the steps of our 100-year-old schoolhouse and waved at us as the Queen would do from the balcony at Buckingham Palace.

I liked my teacher. She made school fun and called us her “Little Sunbeams.” The older kids hated the nickname; they wanted to be “The Gladiators,” but Mrs. Mundy was the only teacher for all eight grades. She said she couldn’t come up with eight different names and was happy with how things were.

As I climbed out of the car, I was excited to see Kenny LaSalle show up with his parents and two saddled ponies in a trailer. Mr. and Mrs. LaSalle owned Little Buckaroo Ranch, a summer camp for kids, and I couldn’t wait to go on a pony ride.

My mother had been right about the zoo. Mary Kozynko had brought her favorite chickens, and Jenni had her white rabbit, Nibbles. Bobbie Curtis showed off his pet snake, Slither, which he kept in a box. I shuddered at the thought of Bobbie letting Slither loose. If that happened, I’d want to go home right away.

I also didn’t like Maggie's jar of pollywogs, and I didn’t believe her when she said she could make them grow into frogs. I had tried that once, and all my pollywogs died. Besides, pollywogs weren’t pets.

Soon, the schoolyard was bustling with kids and their critters. Billy had a Border Collie named Rascal, and he seemed to be having a tough time holding onto Rascal’s leash, so his mother took on the task while he chomped on an oatmeal cookie.

Then Clare arrived with her parrot, Petey, and everyone gathered around while she encouraged Petey to talk. But all he would say to us was “Shut Up! Shut Up!” in his squawky voice. We soon got tired of Petey and moved on to Kenny’s ponies.

Romeo and Juliet stood patiently beside Mr. and Mrs. LaSalle. Kenny and his parents were dressed like people in a Roy Rogers movie. Mrs. LaSalle almost looked like Dale Evans if you didn’t look too closely. Kenny announced that everyone who wanted to ride on the ponies should line up and wait for a turn to trot around the schoolyard.

And so, the fun began.

Everything was swell until Mary decided to show off her rooster, which had won an award at the 4-H fair. As she pulled Clucky out of his cage, he began to flap his wings until he got away and started running across the schoolyard.

“Daddy, Clucky has gotten away!” screamed Mary.

But Rascal was on it. Off he went to herd the rooster.

Blondie must have thought she could help because she took after him, with her big blue bow flapping in the breeze. I never knew Blondie could move so fast, but there she was, running like the Road Runner in the Looney Tunes cartoons.

Clucky darted around the tables and chairs, through the hedges and the swings. He must have decided to make a bigger run for it, and he dashed across the road to the McDougall farm.

But Rascal and Blondie weren’t to be deterred and kept up the chase with their eyes on Clucky.

My mother screamed, “Blondie, come back here!” while Dad was bent over laughing, his hands on his knees. Mum sprinted across the road to try to retrieve our crazy spaniel.

Billie's dad was trying to lasso Rascal with a rope borrowed from Mr. LaSalle.

Mary’s father yelled at her mother, saying she shouldn’t have brought the damn bird in the first place. Didn’t she know Clucky was too feisty for Mary to handle? And now look at the mess.

Mrs. Kozynko got into a big huff and went to sit in the car. She must have felt she needed a time-out. Mrs. Mundy was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and didn’t do much to help.

Eventually, Clucky was captured, and Mr. Kosynko plopped him back into his cage.

When my mother returned with Blondie, her face was beet red from the chase, and her hair was plastered to her head with sweat. Her stockings were torn, and her sensible Oxford shoes were covered in mud. The brand-new rose-colored dress she had made for the picnic was wrinkled, and the hem was ripped on one side. Her face was twisted up like she was about to cry. My mother always wanted to look like a perfect lady.

At last, Rascal was back on his leash, and Blondie was tied to a tree, which she didn’t seem to mind. She sat panting with that cute doggy smile on her face. Her once shiny coat was clumped with mud, and the beautiful blue satin ribbon hung around her neck like a soggy mess. I figured she must have run through a puddle somewhere.

Petey was still shrieking, “Shut Up! Shut Up!” over and over again.

Eventually, most of the critters calmed down, but now Romeo and Juliet were whinnying and stomping their feet. I figured they were probably tired of waiting for the pony rides to start.

Mr. and Mrs. LaSalle told us to line up for our turn. For some reason, Mrs. Mundy decided it was time to get off the steps to help the kids form a nice, orderly line. All the chaos with the pets was soon forgotten as we whooped and hollered about getting a ride on Romeo or Juliet.

When I climbed onto the back of Juliet, I asked Mr. LaSalle if he would let the pony run for a bit. He looked at me sternly and said, “Don’t you think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, little lady? We don’t need any broken bones. You must learn to stay on the horse before you can ride fast, kid.”

Although I didn’t get to ride fast with Juliet, I loved the ride as it was, with her head bobbing up and down and the sound of her hooves clip-clopping around the schoolyard. Still, I would hold on to the dream of riding fast on a horse someday.

Romeo and Juliet were awarded the prize as the Best Pets when Mrs. Mundy mentioned they had gotten everybody involved in the day. Kenny received a check for a family trip to the new A&W.

That was great, I thought, but what did Romeo and Juliet get? They had done all the work.

When it was time to go home, the parents tidied the schoolyard. Everyone decided that the picnic was fun despite the wild chase.

Before everyone left, Mrs. Mundy gave an extra cookie to the kids who hadn’t wanted a pony ride. She never liked anyone to feel left out. During school, if one of us kids cried, Mrs. Mundy would cry with them, although I could never figure out why.

As soon as we got home, Mum gave Blondie another bath. Blondie didn’t like it much, but Dad said, “The hair-brained dog had to learn how to pay for her mistakes.”

That night, in my bed, I relived the picnic once again in my mind. Although Blondie didn’t win the prize, it was still the best last day of school ever. I planned on asking Mum and Dad to send me to summer camp at Little Buckaroo Ranch. If they said yes, I would need a Cowgirl hat and boots with spurs. I wanted to look just like Dale Evans. Maybe then, I could ride Juliet fast.