Gator on the Loose! (9 page)

There was a knock at the back door. “We had breakfast,” Zack said, pushing the door open before anyone could answer it. “But we still haven’t seen the alligator up close.”

“Me either!” Razi ran up to Zeke and did the
high-five-low-five-slide handshake the boys had taught him. “Only Keisha and Daddy have.”

“Is it a girl alligator or a boy alligator?” Zack asked.

“How can you tell?” Zeke wondered.

Keisha wasn’t sure how to tell, but she didn’t want Zeke and Zack to know that. “I couldn’t really see with the alligator in the laundry basket.” She reached for the honey. “What difference does it make?”

“How can you name an alligator unless you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Zack intercepted the honey and squirted some on his finger.

“Pumpkin,” Razi said, hopping up and down, nearly upsetting Mama’s bowl. “That’s his name! I vote for Pumpkin.” Razi waved his hand wildly. “Who votes for Pumpkin?”

“Too much energy in my kitchen,” Mama said. “We’ll wait for Mr. Malone. Razi, you can take the boys up to look through the keyhole. But be quiet. That little gator is frightened enough already.”

“Will you give me a piggyback ride?” Razi asked
Zeke. Razi always asked Zeke first because he hardly ever said no. “Please?”

Almost as soon as they were gone, Mr. Malone came to the back door.

“It’s the alligator doctor,” Daddy said, “here to charge us double overtime for making a house call on a holiday.”

“Got my doctor’s kit and everything,” Mr. Malone said, holding up a little suitcase. “Never know what I’ll come across at the side of the road.”

“We appreciate it, Dan.” Mama was already up and headed toward the pot on the stove. “Can I get you some—”

“No, you sit, Fayola. I always take Mom to breakfast after church on Memorial Day weekend. I’m stuffed. How big did you say this alligator was?”

Daddy looked at Keisha.

“Three bread boxes and a tail,” she told him. “Or one rescue tube.”

Mr. Malone looked thoughtful. “I’ll probably need two assistants to help me examine it,” he said, glancing at Daddy. “Might be best to have one big one and one little one.”

“I could be the little one,” Keisha offered. She pulled Daddy’s hand onto the table and put hers next to it.

“You want
Keisha
to work on this gator?” Mama asked.

“I could take the mouth, Fred the tail, and Keisha here could hold down the middle in case it tries to roll.”

“I’m strong enough to hold it, Mama. See?” Keisha picked up the kitchen stool and pumped it over her head a few times.

Mama didn’t have time to decide if pumping the stool up and down was proof enough that Keisha could hold down alligators because Grandma came bursting into the room, dressed in her purple Chinese-collared silk shirt.

“There’s been a breach of security,” she said. “I can’t be expected to watch over the alligator
and
get ready for the day when—”

“Did the alligator get out?” Mama dropped her spoon.

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, Fay. I just caught the boys—” Grandma saw Mr. Malone. “Oh, hi there, Dan. Seen any vicious box turtles lately?”

“None as vicious as the one that got its teeth into you, Alice. That was the mother of all box turtles.”

The boys came rushing in. “It was his fault!” Zeke said, pointing at Zack. “He almost took my head off slamming the door shut.”

“You pushed me in there first.”

“That was Razi.”

“You dared me!” Razi screamed.

“Boys, boys! Take this outside.” Daddy stood up and shooed the boys toward the door. “There must be some wholesome activity you can find to do while we conduct some business here.”

“What’s ‘wholesome’?” Razi asked.

“Filled with holes,” Zack said.

“Is not,” Zeke said.

“Is so,” Zack said back. It continued like that until they were outside.

“Shall we visit an alligator?” Mr. Malone asked.

“We shall.” Daddy led the way upstairs. He held the bathroom door open for Mr. Malone and Keisha and then he closed it carefully. As soon as the alligator heard them enter, it began scrabbling against the tub bottom, trying to gain its footing and escape. In an instant, Mr. Malone was kneeling at the side of the claw-foot tub with his hands clamped around the alligator’s mouth.

“Help me out here, guys. I had my jaw dislocated by an alligator’s tail in graduate school.”

Daddy kneeled down on one end, and Keisha took her place in the middle. Oooh, the alligator felt, well,
like a bumpy old bicycle tire. He was softer than she thought he would be. As soon as their hands were in place, the poor little thing started twisting.

“The death roll,” Mr. Malone said. “He’s trying to get away. We’ll sit him out. Just hold.” The alligator did try, but he didn’t seem to have much energy for it. After a few seconds, he lay still.

“Don’t let go, but relax,” Mr. Malone told them. “We need to move him back so he’s flat on the bottom of the tub.”

Keeping one hand clamped on the alligator’s mouth, Mr. Malone took a pen out of his shirt pocket and lifted the base of the alligator’s tail. “I should say we need to move
her
to the bottom of the tub.”

Mr. Malone leaned in close and inspected every inch of alligator.

“She has the typical scratches on her skin that an alligator would get when you chase her over the cement at the city pool. Let’s see those eyes…. Keisha, would you get the magnifying glass out of my instrument case?”

Keisha snapped open Mr. Malone’s case and laid it flat on the floor. It held everything from adhesive bandages to syringes to thermometers. She found the magnifying glass and looked at Pumpkin’s eyes as she handed
the glass to Mr. Malone. They looked like some of the specimens in her cat’s-eye marble collection, deep brown with flecks of yellow.

“Excellent,” Mr. Malone said. “No scratches there.”

He set the magnifying glass down and used his free hand to pull back her lips so he could see her gums.

“Oh, this is not good.”

“Are Pumpkin’s teeth loose?” Keisha remembered something about alligator teeth in captivity, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Pumpkin? That’s an odd name for an alligator. I thought Fay—”

“Not her official name,” Daddy said. “We try not to get too attached, but Razi has a way of naming everything.”

Keisha wanted to hear what Mr. Malone thought about naming. Did they name the animals at the zoo? Did he think of one of them as his special pet? She kept her grip tight with one hand, but with the other, she patted Pumpkin’s back.

“Her teeth aren’t loose,” Mr. Malone said, absorbed again in alligator anatomy, “so much as … transparent. Like skim milk. She is missing some teeth, too. And see here …”

He put one hand on top of Pumpkin’s jaw and one
hand under it and moved the bottom from side to side. Ooooh, Pumpkin didn’t like that. Daddy jumped back as her tail got away from him and smacked against the side of the tub.

Keisha squinted and ducked. Pumpkin struggled to get free, but Daddy got her tail again and they put pressure on her until she stopped fighting.

Everyone was breathing hard—especially Pumpkin—when Mr. Malone said, “She’s a little sensitive here. It’s just as I thought. She doesn’t eat enough bones.”

“Bones?” Daddy repeated.

Mr. Malone nodded. “Alligators in captivity are almost always fed a diet of things like hamburger and tuna and chicken without the bones. They need the whole animal: rats, mice, chicks. Otherwise, they don’t get enough calcium.

“Before she was found in the city pool, it’s likely that someone had her in their home—the garage or the basement—and fed her food that was easy to get at the grocery store. I’ve seen this before.”

“So people do have alligators for pets?” Keisha asked.

“Sure they do.” Mr. Malone straightened his back. “Think about this one as a baby—those glassy eyes, the smile that never goes away. They’re like scaly
kittens, just twelve inches long. Pretty hard
not
to want one.”

Keisha tried to imagine Aaliyah begging her mama and daddy for a baby alligator. She wasn’t sure Mr. Malone was right in thinking everyone wanted one.

“Did you ask for an alligator when you were little?” she asked him.

“You bet I did.”

Keisha didn’t ask her next questions—
Did you get one? How much did it cost? Where did you keep it? What happened when it got big?
—because she didn’t want Daddy to think that she had any interest at all in baby alligators.

“Okay, everybody, on the count of three we’re all going to stand up and back off…. One, two, three …” Keisha was the quickest to jump up. Daddy took her hand and pulled her away. She was sure the alligator would try to get out of the tub again. It had been successful once. But poor Pumpkin seemed exhausted.

“Let’s make our getaway while we can,” Daddy said. When they were on the other side of the bathroom door, Daddy tilted a chair from Grandma’s bedroom up against the door to make sure it stayed shut.

“Maybe she could come live with you at the zoo,” Keisha said as they were going down the stairs.

“I’m afraid not, Keisha. This alligator may have a virus, one we can’t see, and we can’t take the chance of her infecting others. Also, a zoo isn’t set up to take in orphaned animals, like your dad does,” Mr. Malone said. “We don’t even have the proper licenses….”

They walked into the kitchen, where Grandma was sitting at the table cutting pictures out of her Elderhostel catalog.

Mr. Malone went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “There’s another reason we can’t take Pumpkin,” he told Keisha over his shoulder. “The zoo doesn’t have enough room. In the three years I have worked there, we’ve seen eight alligators—two just this month. The last one was caught with a fishing rod. It had made a wallow on the Rogue River and was eating the free-range chickens at the Herbruck family farm.”

“But where do they come from? Michigan isn’t an alligator’s natural habitat,” Keisha said.

“They aren’t coming by themselves. People bring them. Or they buy them here. My parents knew what happened to baby alligators—that’s why I never got one. But people who go to reptile swaps—they have one every month here in Grand River—don’t know the first thing about it. They see the alligator while it’s a
hatchling, and they don’t think ahead to the fact that alligators grow big and dangerous.

“Another thing I learned in my online zoo forum is that people are starting to use them the way they might use guard dogs. So instead of a pit bull, some property owners buy alligators.”

“Does this mean there will be more and more alligators in Michigan?”

“Not in the end because they can’t survive our Michigan winters.”

“So what will happen to Pum
—this
alligator?”

“I’m sorry, Keisha.” Daddy patted her back. “It’s not looking too good for our scaly friend.”

“Well, just think if you hadn’t found her,” Mr. Malone said. “How sick and frightened she’d be. Nature, as you know, Keisha, can be very cruel. I include human beings when I say that. No one should have released Pumpkin like that. Here in Michigan, she’s like a … well, a fish out of water!”

The good news was that Pumpkin wasn’t going back to Mama’s favorite bathtub. The bad news was that Mama had to lose a flower bed. Daddy had warned her not to plant the petunias in that spot because they would need a large-animal enclosure soon. Mama said she’d rather give up the petunias than have an alligator back in the house. Daddy cut the flowers and put them in a vase. Then he dug out a whole section of earth, including the roots of the petunias so they could be planted elsewhere.

All the while, Keisha misted Pumpkin in the dog crate that had been placed in the shade outside the garage. Razi and Grandma stood on the other side, talking about what would happen.

“Shame about your mama’s petunias,” Grandma said, scratching at a scab on her knee. She was wearing her “skort,” which made her legs look longer.

“That should be the alligator’s new name.” Razi pushed a flower between the slats of the crate. “Pumpkin is a boy’s name, but Petunia is a girl’s name.”

The alligator snapped at the flower.

“Razi! We’re supposed to keep her calm.” Poor thing, Keisha thought. Alligators shouldn’t have to be crammed into dog crates—or any other cage or aquarium that was too small—for too long. Besides, this little one had been through trouble enough. She deserved some rest.

Daddy walked over and Keisha reached up to wipe the dirt off his chin.

“Time for your nap, buddy.” Technically, Razi was too old for his nap, but Daddy still made him go upstairs and play in his room when the family needed a rest.

“Is not!”

“Is. It is a quarter past naptime, to be exact. Grandma, will you read Razi a story?”

“Only if I can pick it. I’ve had it with stories about trains. I need more excitement than clickety-clack.”

After the others left, Keisha tried to make her thoughts calm for the alligator’s sake. She wondered what a reptile thought about. Did Pumpkin-Petunia feel better that Keisha was there?

The alligator
was
cute, like Mr. Malone said, in a scaly sort of way. Her eyes were following Keisha. She knew that what looked like Pumpkin-Petunia smiling was just the way her jaw was formed, but secretly Keisha felt that Pumpkin-Petunia, or whatever her name was, might be having some feelings for Keisha, too.