The One and Only Ivan

  Each time Ruby touches the box, she gets a click and a treat.

  “Why is she making that clicking noise?” I ask Bob.

  “They do that to dogs all the time,” Bob says. I can tell he doesn’t approve. “It’s called clicker training. They want Ruby to associate the noise with the treat. When she does something they want, they make that noise.”

  “Great job, Ruby,” the woman says. “You’re a quick study.”

  After many clicks and carrots, she takes Ruby back to her cage.

  “Why is that lady giving me carrots when I touch the box?” Ruby asks me.

  “I think she wants you to go inside,” I explain.

  “But there’s nothing inside,” Ruby says, “except an apple.”

  “Inside that box,” I say, “is the way out.”

  Ruby tilts her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “See the picture of the red giraffe on the box? I think the lady is from the zoo, Ruby. I think she’s getting ready to take you there.”

  I wait for Ruby to trumpet with joy, but instead she just stares at the box in silence.

  “I’m not sure you understand. That box might be taking you to a place where there are other elephants,” I say. “A place with more room, and humans who care about you.”

  But even as I say these words, I remember with a shudder the last box I was in.

  “I don’t want a zoo,” Ruby says. “I want you and Bob and Julia. This is my home.”

  “No, Ruby,” I say. “This is your prison.”

  poking and prodding

  The lady comes again. She brings an animal doctor with an awful smell and a dangerous-looking bag.

  He spends an hour with Ruby, poking and prodding. He looks at her eyes, her feet, her trunk.

  When he’s done with Ruby, he enters my cage. I wish I could hide under Not-Tag like Bob.

  Instead I do a nice, loud chest beat, and after a moment the doctor retreats.

  “We’re going to need to put this one under,” he says.

  I’m not quite sure what he means. But I strut around my cage feeling victorious anyway.

  no painting

  No one asks me to paint today. No one asks Ruby to perform.

  There are no shows. No visitors, unless you count the protesters.

  Mack stays in his office all day.

  more boxes

  I wake up from a long morning nap. Bob is on my belly, but he isn’t asleep. He’s watching the ring, where four men are placing a large metal box.

  It’s me sized.

  “What’s that?” I ask, still blurry from sleep.

  Bob nuzzles my chin. “I believe that box is for you, my friend.”

  I’m not sure what he means. “Me?”

  “They brought in a bunch of boxes while you were sleeping. Looks to me like they’re taking the whole lot of you,” he says casually, licking a paw. “Even Thelma.”

  “Taking?” I repeat. “Taking us where?”

  “Well, some to the zoo, probably. Others to an animal shelter where humans will try to find them homes.” Bob shakes himself. “So. I guess all good things must come to an end, huh?”

  His voice is bright, but his eyes are faraway and sad. “I’m going to miss your stomach, big guy.”

  Bob shuts his eyes. He makes an odd noise in his throat.

  “But … what about you?” I ask.

  I can’t tell if Bob’s just pretending to sleep, but he doesn’t answer.

  I gaze at the huge, shadowy box, and suddenly I understand how Ruby feels. I don’t want to go into that box.

  The last time I was in a box, my sister died.

  good-bye

  When George and Julia come that night, George doesn’t get his mop or his broom. He gathers up his tools and belongings while Julia runs to my cage.

  “This is my last night, Ivan,” she says, and she presses her palm to my glass. “Mack fired my dad.” Tears slip down her cheeks. “But the zoo lady said maybe they’ll have an opening there in a while, cleaning cages and stuff.”

  I walk to the glass that separates us. I put my hand where Julia’s is, palm to palm, finger to finger. My hand is bigger, but they’re not so very different.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Julia says. “And Ruby and Bob. But this is a good thing, really it is. You deserve a different life.”

  I stare into her dark eyes and wish I had words for her.

  Sniffling, she goes to Ruby’s cage. “Have a good life, Ruby,” she says.

  Ruby makes a little rumbling sound. She puts her trunk between the bars and touches Julia’s shoulder.

  “Where is Bob, anyway?” Julia asks. She looks around, under tables, in my cage, by the trash can. “Dad,” she calls, “have you seen Bob?”

  “Bob? Nope,” George says.

  Julia’s brow wrinkles. “What’s going to happen to him, Dad? What if Mack shuts down the whole mall?”

  “He says he’s going to try to keep it open without the animals,” George says. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m worried about Bob too. But he’s a survivor.”

  “You know what, Dad?” Julia gets a gleam in her eye. “Bob could live with us. Mom loves dogs, and he could keep her company, and—”

  “Jules, I’m not even sure I have a job yet. I may not even be able to feed you, let alone some mutt.”

  “My dog-walking money—”

  “Sorry, Jules.”

  Julia nods. “I understand.”

  She starts to leave, then runs back to my cage. “I almost forgot. This is for you, Ivan.”

  She slips a piece of paper into my cage. It’s a drawing of Ruby and me.

  We’re eating yogurt raisins. Ruby is playing with another baby elephant, and I’m holding hands with a lovely gorilla.

  She has red lips and a flower in her hair.

  I look, as I always do in Julia’s pictures, like an elegant fellow, but something is different about this drawing.

  In this picture, I am smiling.

  click

  The door to my cage is propped open. I can’t stop staring at it.

  My door. Open.

  The giant box has been moved, and it’s open too. The humans have pushed it up against my doorway.

  If I walk through my door, I enter their box.

  The zoo lady, whose name is Maya, is here again.

  Click. Yogurt raisin.

  Click. Tiny marshmallow.

  Click. Ripe papaya.

  Click. Apple slice.

  Hour after hour, click after click.

  I look over at Ruby. She waits to see what I will do.

  I touch the box.

  I sniff the dark interior, where a ripe mango awaits.

  Click, click, click.

  I have to do it. Ruby is watching me from between the bars of her cage, and this box is the way out.

  I step inside.

  an idea

  After I leave the box and step back into my cage, I get an idea, a good one.

  I tell Bob he can sneak into my box with me and live at the zoo.

  “Have you forgotten? I’m a wild beast, Ivan,” he says, sniffing the floor for crumbs. “I am untamed, undaunted.”

  Bob samples a piece of celery and spits it out. “Besides, they’d notice. Humans are dumb, but they’re not that dumb.”

  respect

  “Ivan?” Ruby says. “Do you think the other elephants will like me?”

  “I think they’ll love you, Ruby. You’ll be part of their family.”

  “Do you think the other gorillas will like you?” Ruby asks.

  “I’m a silverback, Ruby. A leader.” I pull back my shoulders and hold my head high. “They don’t have to like me. They have to respect me.”

  Even as I tell her this, I wonder if I can ever command their respect.

  I haven’t had much practice being a real gorilla, much less a silverback.

  “Do you think the other elephants will know any jokes?”

  “If they don’t,?
?? I tell her, “you can teach them.”

  Ruby flaps her ears. She flicks her tail. “You know what, Ivan?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “I think I’m going to go in the box tomorrow.”

  I gaze at her fondly. “I think that’s a good idea. And I think Stella would have agreed.”

  “Do you think the other elephants will know how to play tag? I love tag.”

  “Me too,” I say, and I think of my nimble sister racing through the brush, always just out of my reach.

  photo

  Late at night, Mack opens my cage. The full moon falls on his sagging shoulders. He seems smaller somehow.

  Bob, instantly alert, leaps off my stomach and dives under Not-Tag.

  “Don’t bother hiding, dog,” Mack says. “I know you sleep in here.” Mack settles onto my tire swing. “Might as well stay one more night. Your buddy’s leaving tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? My stomach drops. I’m not ready. I need more time. I haven’t said my good-byes. I haven’t thought this through.

  Mack pulls a small photo out of his shirt pocket. It’s me when I was young. Mack and I are in the front seat of his convertible.

  I’m wearing a baseball cap and eating an ice cream cone.

  I was a handsome lad, but I have to admit I look ridiculous. Nothing like a real gorilla.

  “We had some laughs, didn’t we, guy?” Mack says. “Remember when we went on that roller coaster? Or that time I tried to teach you to play basketball?” Mack shakes his head, chuckling. “You had a lousy jump shot.”

  He stands, sighs, looks around. He puts the photo back in his pocket.

  “I’m going to miss you, Ivan,” he says, and then he leaves. He doesn’t look back.

  leaving

  Early in the morning, Maya arrives with many other humans.

  Some have white coats. Some have rustling papers. They are hushed, busy, determined.

  Ruby enters her box first.

  “I’m scared, Ivan,” she calls from inside the box. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  A part of me doesn’t want her to leave either, but I know I can’t tell her that.

  “Think of all the amazing stories you can share with your new family,” I say.

  Ruby falls silent.

  “I’ll tell them your elephant joke,” she says after a long pause. “The one about the refrigerator.”

  “I bet they’d like that. And be sure to tell them about Bob and Julia and me.” I clear my throat. “And Stella.”

  “I’ll remember everyone,” Ruby says. “Especially you.”

  Before I can say any more, they roll her cage out to a waiting truck.

  It’s my turn.

  Bob is hiding in a corner, behind my pool. The humans don’t even notice him.

  While they’re busy making sure my box is ready, Bob sneaks over. He licks my chin, just in case there are any leftovers.

  “You,” I whisper, “are the One and Only Bob.”

  I reach for Not-Tag. She is a limp rag without her stuffing. Dribbles of paint cover her fur.

  I hold her out to Bob. He tilts his head, confused.

  “To help you sleep,” I say.

  Bob takes her in his teeth and slips away.

  good boy

  “Good Ivan, good boy,” Maya says when I lumber into my box. I hear the clicker, and I’m rewarded with a tiny marshmallow.

  When I’m settled, Maya gives me a sweet drink that tastes of mango and something bitter.

  My eyelids grow heavy. I want to see what happens next, but I am sleepy, so sleepy.

  I dream I’m with Tag and we’re swinging from vines while Stella watches. The sun slices through the thick ceiling of trees and the breeze tastes like fruit.

  moving

  My eyes flutter open.

  The box is moving.

  I am in the grumbling belly of some great beast.

  I fall back asleep.

  awakening

  I awake to glass and steel. It’s a new cage not unlike my old cage, except that it’s much cleaner.

  Maya’s here, and other humans I recognize.

  “Hey there, Ivan,” Maya says. “He’s coming to, guys.”

  I have three walls of glass. The fourth wall is a curtain of wooden slats strung together.

  This doesn’t look like the zoos on TV. Where are the other animals?

  Where are the gorillas?

  Is this where Ruby ended up? In a cage just like her old cage, still alone? Is she cold? Hungry? Sad?

  Is there anyone to tell her stories when she can’t get to sleep?

  missing

  I miss my old cozy cage.

  I miss my art.

  But most of all, I miss Bob.

  My belly’s cold without him.

  food

  The food is fine here.

  No soda, though, or cotton candy.

  not famous

  I have no visitors here, no sticky-fingered children or weary parents.

  Only Maya and her humans come, with their soothing voices and soft hands.

  I wonder if I have stopped being famous.

  something in the air

  Endless days pass, and then I notice something.

  A change.

  I don’t know what it is, but I taste it in the air, like faroff rain clouds gathering.

  a new tv

  Maya brings me a TV. It is bigger than my old one.

  She turns it on. “I think you’re going to like this show,” she says, smiling.

  I’m hoping for a romance, or maybe a Western.

  But it’s a nature show, one without human voices or ads. It’s a show about gorillas being gorillas. I watch them eat and groom and play-fight. I even watch them sleep.

  I wonder why Mack never put on this channel.

  the family

  Every day I watch the gorillas on the TV screen. It’s a small family and an odd one, just three females and a juvenile male, without a silverback to protect them.

  They groom each other and eat and sleep, then groom each other some more. They are a contented group, placid and good-natured, although, like any family, they bicker from time to time.

  excited

  This morning, for some reason, there is no gorilla show on TV.

  Maya and the other humans are excited. They chirp like birds at dawn.

  “Today’s the day,” they say.

  I’ve watched many humans watch me, but never have they looked so happy.

  Maya goes to the wall of wooden slats.

  She grins goofily.

  She pulls a string.

  what I see

  Gorillas.

  Three females and a juvenile male.

  It’s the family I’ve been watching. But they’re not on a TV screen.

  They’re on the other side of the glass, watching me watching them.

  I see me.

  Lots of me.

  still there

  I cover my eyes.

  I look again.

  They are still there.

  watching

  Every day, I watch them through my window, the way my visitors used to watch me.

  See how they chase, groom? See how they play, sleep? See how they live?

  They’re graceful the way Stella was, moving just enough, only as much as they need.

  They stare at me, heads tilted, pointing and hooting, and I wonder: Are they as fascinated by me as I am by them?

  she

  Her hoots make my ears hurt.

  I admire her intact canines from afar.

  Her name is Kinyani.

  She is faster than I am, spry and probably smarter, although I am twice her size and that, too, is important.

  She is terrifying.

  And beautiful, like a painting that moves.

  door

  Today the humans lead me to a door.

  On the other side, Kinyani and the others wait for me.

  I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to be
a silverback.

  I’m Ivan, just Ivan, only Ivan.

  I decide it’s not a good day to socialize.

  I’ll try again tomorrow.