<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When I was a little boy<\/p>\n
A toddler of preschool age<\/p>\n
I would summer at my grandparents farm<\/p>\n
In Rhodesia<\/p>\n
The summers were hot<\/p>\n
But I didn’t know<\/p>\n
I was a toddler of preschool age<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The plantation was vast<\/p>\n
My grandparents kind<\/p>\n
The workers nice<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Grandma was sweet<\/p>\n
She drove a jeep<\/p>\n
She scoured the veld for wounded game<\/p>\n
She’d patch them up<\/p>\n
All the while tsk’ing and tutting<\/p>\n
Tutting and tsk’ing<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Her curly silver hair would bob<\/p>\n
And bounce<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The last day after the hunters left<\/p>\n
She brought home a zebra colt<\/p>\n
Wounded and mad<\/p>\n
My grandmother’s tears made the dusty soil dance<\/p>\n
I didn’t like the zebras<\/p>\n
It was their fault I couldn’t have a dog<\/p>\n
A pet dog<\/p>\n
Sure there were work dogs on the plantation<\/p>\n
But they were trained not to scare the game<\/p>\n
Until ordered to<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“We can’t have you a dog little Willy.<\/p>\n
He’d scare the profits\u00a0away.<\/p>\n
And I don’t have the time to train you a cur<\/p>\n
I need more trained ones myself.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Ah ha! \u00a0I know! \u00a0You can have the colt as your pet.<\/p>\n
How grand!<\/p>\n
You’ll be the only boy\u00a0on Long Island<\/p>\n
With a pet zebra!<\/p>\n
What should we name him little Willy?”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Spot,” I meekly uttered<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A round of laughter filled the room.<\/p>\n
My grandfather’s face red<\/p>\n
Grandma shaking her head<\/p>\n
Bobbing her silver curls<\/p>\n
The help laughed nervously<\/p>\n
They regarded me somehow<\/p>\n
But I didn’t know how<\/p>\n
I was a toddler of preschool age<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I know now the irony<\/p>\n
Of naming a zebra “Spot”<\/p>\n
But I wasn’t being ironic<\/p>\n
I was a toddler of preschool age<\/p>\n
And I wanted a dog<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At the end of the season<\/p>\n
My suitcases packed<\/p>\n
I’d take my last walk with my pet zebra<\/p>\n
I often thought he regarded me<\/p>\n
As if I were a zebra<\/p>\n
Or as if he were a human<\/p>\n
I do not know<\/p>\n
I was a toddler of preschool age<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
As we drove in my grandma’s jeep to the airport<\/p>\n
Careful not to provoke the rebels<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I remember the tears on my face<\/p>\n
As wet as the ones that fall now<\/p>\n
But, oh, so much more hot<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Now I wonder so terribly<\/p>\n
Was it from the Rhodesian heat?<\/p>\n
Or just me regarding “Spot”?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
What, just what, caused my rage?<\/p>\n
But then I didn’t know<\/p>\n
I was a toddler of preschool age.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
(c) Bill Corrigan 2010<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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