Hello, my friend! I’m Riley the raccoon, and have I got an exciting story for you today about a special event at our friendly Park City Zoo. Although it took place some time ago, I’ve only just now returned from my adventures abroad—and what a journey it has been!
That sunny day started off just like any other. The air was warm and the sky was blue. I had made it home the previous night and decided to enjoy a pleasant stroll around the zoo, happy to be back in such familiar surroundings. For a while, I was entertained by the colorful parrots on the main avenue and swallows swooping to catch the butterflies, but when I reached the flower garden, a very strange noise came tumbling out of the fragrant roses.
As I drew nearer, I discovered some familiar and some strange animal friends all talking at once, talking too fast for me to make out what they were saying. Suddenly one of them spied me.
“Hi, Riley,” he cried. “You’re just in time. We’ve just received invitations to the annual Amazing Race! It’s going to be very special this year. Each contestant must choose one partner to race with, and combine their strengths to win first prize!”
“Oh, that sounds splendid!” I cried. “But I haven’t got a partner!”
“What a sad thing to say,” twittered Peter the parrot, who, it seems, had first thought of the idea. “Hey, children, if anyone hasn’t yet got a partner, do just stop blowing off about it. And you, Alfred the stork, since you’ve returned, why not combine your strength with great Riley?”
“Exactly what I was going to say,” said he hastily. “I’d choose no one else.”
So it was settled. We decided to have a big dinner that evening at the parrot house, where we would all have a joyful time, plan our strategy for the race, and do our very best to win.
And oh, my dears, how I did enjoy that dinner! Everything was delicious, and the tarts were so tempting that we felt quite happy to forget about our figure for once, and do as the hostess requested, and eat and eat without stopping. All kinds of music were played, and songs were sung. Everybody found the time to tell stories of their own wonderful adventures. Peter announced that the invitation cards had all been sent out in good time. He had even directed them himself—just as if it had been on an expedition, he said, that someone was sure to forget.
However, no one did. Exactly thus did the invitations read:
“A special amazing race will take place in Park City Zoo. Contestants must be two animals working together under one name, according to the rules applied to races in all other countries. The animals will start from the public square outside the main entrance to the zoo, and will enter and leave through the public entrance. Every contestant must at any cost produce passcards for himself and partner. Extra prizes will be given this year. The race will take place next Friday week at two o’clock p.m.”
“That means we still have two days in which to get into training,” said Mary the rabbit, the last of our friends. Then she added dejectively, “I do hope it won’t be too tiring!”
“I had some very unpleasant experiences when I was in the races at school,” said Alfred the stork.
“I’ve never been in one of that kind,” I confessed, “so let’s hope it’s great fun.”
The day before the race, Alfred and I took our passcards to the Council Chamber at the zoo entrance to enroll ourselves there.
“What’s that?” I asked the attendant, pointing to a large whiffing thing like a young bunch of radishes, the colour of light silver paper.
“The scales,” he replied, drawing near closely, “to weigh our animal friends, so that the race is perfectly fair. The two animals together must weigh at least one hundred kilograms, so that they race in pairs, then weigh in pairs according to their requirements. Then I shall give a pair of passes to each contestant to take with him out of the zoo and into the town itself. Weigh in again every hundred meters. A lacquered card is done then to show how you do it! What a carrying about it is! But if that wasn’t done, there’s sure to be some noise about it. And don’t be late, mind you! Everything depends on good time-keeping. The lifts by the way, are to be used. When in doubt, ask the lift attendants, or any of the policemen that you happen to see.”
On the day of the race, Alfred and I went to bed in good time so that we should feel fresh and bright. “We’ve just got time, I think,” said I at breakfast-time.
But Alfred took a critical look at the clock. “Better be on the safe side,” was his decision!
It was well we did. Alfred insisted on flying down from the watch-house roof to the main entrance gate. No sooner did we show ourselves than numbers of bold sightseers pressed round us, other animals standing in fine rows at the entrance, meanwhile, looking no end of fun altogether. They were all at their posts to secure the first pass-cards without delay. Among them I recognized my old enemy Wally the wolf. He eternal harped about keeping time. I wanted to ask him why I generally set out from that very place far ahead of him, never to catch me up again until the ending was in sight.
Alfred said he had counted thirty-three stairs in all, and still we did not come to the bottom! As soon as we reached it, a tremendous clang rang out through the town, leaving hardly any time for a kind word for our friends.
Down the street we went, past shop-windows at the same old speed, which was most certainly Alfred’s. Only now and again did we weigh ourselves, like good children. Quite ridiculous! I feel sure we should never have arrived, but for two kind sightseers. One had no umbrella, as his acquaintance had taken her hat off, on the pretext that she was so warm! So the umbrella was beckoned to him. Beside himself with joy, the other rushed forward to interest the policeman standing nearby. And with their kind assistance, although we were now so near the end that, of course, we started ahead, we still had both the pleasure and delight of being present at the prize-giving of the snuggest and best joint friends Alfred and I, with first prize, handed over with much cordiality by Mr. Jansen, the gentleman in question. The delight of our friends is enough reward for you, Mr. Jansen, remembering you as I do, whilst still a little parcel of the important story of life bears your distinguished name to this very day.
And tap-tap-tap-tap-tap quickly sounds the rain on the roof while I write; the day is so sinister outside. But fortunately here, in my corner, not far from the stove, it is still rather warm outside while it’s wet. Modest white curtains sway gently at the windows, the white lace mat on the round table lies quite undisturbed. Only Nanny the goat buries her snub nose in her plate, like all good little children who mean to be very happy only in the company of their nearest and dearest.
Tell me about your own adventures some day. Until then, we will part friends.