I went to the zoo – but had to speed through as the dogs were on my trail. I ran over the moats where the hippopotamuses wallowed, and then across the water to the lions’ mound. Here they sat: bald, lazy and grumpily kept away from the top by a man of a similar temperament. He was wrinkled but not so old and he had dark skin, as if frost-bitten. In his hand he held a long leather whip which he lashed out at any lions that dared come too close or climbed too high. They snarled in frustrated recognition of his place.
And at the top of the mound of the mice there was a cat, and I wondered why it did not eat them all. It was as if it was scared to leave its place for even a moment, lest it should be taken by a mouse.
