The photo that Bill took of us hovering over the bear has been a center of conversation for more than 40 years. It reminds me of the times I have been afraid to do something that was uncomfortable or challenging and also of the times I have been thankful that I did them anyway. Those are the ones that are truly worth remembering.

It’s worth a visit, whether in person or on-line. At the Brookfield Zoo, you can see animals from aardvarks to zebras and all between. You will also be inspired to keep an eye out for the human zoos you come upon every day.

Buddy sat quietly by her side and wouldn’t leave until the cars were both towed away. Soon a friend picked up the young woman. The man and his elderly mother got a ride from the police officer who arrived.

I’ll tell you ‘bout a Steed that I knew well; He was Leader of the herd on the Carousel. Black and shiny, proud and untamed; Fierce were his eyes; lush was his mane

On the day when Princess finally arrives in Horse Heaven with her Attitude from Hell, I’m afraid the residents are in for a rude surprise when she announces, “Hey, guys, listen up. My name is Princess and I’m your new boss.”

And so Don Catleone and the princess were married and lived happily ever after, their wealth and power assured for generations to come. As for the Catfather, he asked for nothing more than the proceeds from loan sharking and numbers, and the labor rackets as far as the western end of the docks.

I have not found too much written about the Central Park Zoo yak except that one midnight, in July 1935, a policeman spied a man feeding grapefruit to the yaks.

“I’ve been incredibly busy lately. I’m in the middle of a big project at work that has to be wrapped up by Christmas. At the same time, I . . . uh . . . inherited White Boots. I was hoping he would adjust to this place, but I can see that he hasn’t. I guess I’ll just have to give him to the Humane Society after all.”

Not only am I gagging while gazing down the dog's throat examining lurid plaque buildup but the vet is giving me a graphic description of the hunting habits of Cro-Magnon dog. Am I supposed to sling a side of beef on the dining room floor so the dog can chew on real bones?

When we took the three out of the carton, they fled in all directions, quacking and awking. They waddled from the paddock to the barn and back again. If I went near them, they flapped their wings and rushed to the corner of the barn, piling on top of each other trying to get away from me. They looked funny running on their webbed feet, rocking from side to side, clacking their orange bills. I felt sorry for them. I knew they shouldn’t be afraid of me, but they were.

I pitter-pattered down the sandy beach, waiting for the next jellyfish to sting me in mid-air. Just a day earlier I had been savagely attacked by some type of feral jellyfish. It had already taken a solid thirty minutes for my poor Dad to pry my hands from the door as he was trying to pull me towards jellyfish hell.

Carole told me that Dorsey was licking the babies for the same reason she might lick other dogs, particularly around the face, to show submission. This was a good thing. It meant she recognized that the children had more status in the family than she.

“It’s okay Jack, you can eat it. I wouldn’t poison you guys. When I kill your mistress, I’ll take you out fast with bullets straight to the head. No lingering pain, I promise.” He licks the bone, trusting her.

In Pearl’s untiring ways, she had left me with a clear sense of how to practice patience while balancing the fine art of making others happy. She taught me to accept people as they are, and to never judge them. Most of all, I learned that when it really counts most, we have to take care of our own

Sol had no idea what slept silently under the brushy foliage at the end of the pond. But there, tucked safely away in their half-submerged mound of mud lay two alligator eggs hidden under an overgrowth of willow, water grasses, and bushes

In unison, the animals turned to stare at me. I suddenly knew what the lightning had done for him. It had enabled him to communicate with these creatures on their level. In turn, they protected him. The room vibrated with love.

Even our own culture has an elevated affection for dogs and cats. So I am quite able to consider as “saintly” the German Shepherd we named Sashimaya that once saved our young sons’ lives by quite deliberately sacrificing her own.

Casey is a closet cat and Mary is NOT. She is ever-present and in charge of the dogs, sleeps curled up next to Benjie. Oh, yes, we did "adopt" a giraffe from the Living Desert here, which entitled our family to go back to their living quarters (there were six giraffes).

Your first pet was likely the result of an extended crying jag at your parent’s feet. You probably sat on porch steps with a turtle, stray kitten or mange-ridden dog and begged to keep the filthy insect incubator. Begged until your parents ran screaming into the street with their hair on fire. Your second pet is the result of your offspring doing the same thing to you.

A hiss from a tiger made us jump. A sudden body slam of a panther against the rails made us scream. A lion's roar sent us running. We understood that they all wanted to break out, chase us down and eat us up.