Petting Zoo

The sign on the car door spelt Pete’s Petting Zoo in that horrible font used for communicating to kids and their parents. The car was a new European four-wheel drive; a large animal float also branded with the awful logo was hitched behind. When it drove onto the patchy grass of the school oval before parking under the large trees near the creek, I thought that was probably about as off-road as that SUV would ever go. I also thought there must be good money in petting zoos, certainly better than in mobile coffee vans.

I finished setting up and soon after the rides started then the parents and kids arrived. With no cafes within walking distance and the school P&C concentrating on selling barbecued sausages, soft drinks and beer, I was soon pumping out flat whites and macchiatos to a good crowd. No matter how little money people have they will always buy a coffee.

Just before noon, a couple in their 50s, dressed in jeans, new RM Williams boots and matching branded polo shirts trudged the length of the oval through the packs of parents and kids. From my vantage point they could have been siblings with the same solid transitioning to overweight builds, the new jeans and their black shirts emblazoned with the petting zoo logo. They were dusty and sweaty. When they stood in front of me and I could smell hay and manure overlaying expensive cologne.

 “Hi, what can I get you guys?”

I exaggerated an examination of the breast of the man’s shirt. “Or should I say Pete and.” I turned to the woman. I thought a close examination of her abundant breasts unwise so I added, “and Mrs. Pete” with a smile at her face instead.

My welcome was rewarded with a faint smile from her but Pete remained unimpressed with life.

“Maree actually and we would love two regular flat whites with double shots.”  Her voice was soft and hesitant.

“No problem, been a busy morning, how about you?”

“Same here,” she replied as she placed her debit card on the PayWave. Her hand shook.

“Have a seat and I will bring them over.”

I had a few camping chairs placed in the shade near the van and they collapsed into two of them. So far Pete had offered nothing but a nod and a groan as he sunk his mass into the camp chair.

I made the coffees then carried them over with my stash of shortbread that I kept for special occasions.

“You guys look like you might need an energy boost. Have a biscuit.”

“That’s lovely, thanks so much, shortbread is just what I need,” Maree said and took a biscuit.

Pete looked less grouchy and roused himself to take his cup and a biscuit.

“Thanks Mate, I am Pete by the way. We have the petting zoo,” he added unnecessarily as he pointed across the oval

“I’m Harry, how long have you had the zoo?”

 “Not long, this is our fourth school fete.”

“How’s it going then?”

Maree and Pete looked at each other before Pete answered, “OK, but it is more work than we thought. We haven’t really done anything like this before. I used to be an Airbus pilot but COVID wound things up early for me. So Maree and I thought we would try this. You know, give city kids a touch of country; fill up some of the days. We’re not looking to make too much of a living, just fill some time and also give our youngest some part time work while she studies Vet Science. Chloe is over there now, coping, I hope.”

“How long have you had the coffee van?” Maree asked between bites.

“About two years now, it’s just starting to pay its way but you need to really work it.”

Pete jumped in. “Yeah, low cost to entry I guess and now days there are plenty of people buying themselves a job.”

Pete seemed to be one of those people who loved to state the obvious but I ignored him.

“I used to be partners in the local butcher’s shop with my brother but we couldn’t make a go of it during lockdown.”

I pointed down at the big marquee where the P&C committee were hard at work.

“He’s down there now manning the bar.”

But COVID didn’t just affect know it all Airbus pilots and suburban butchers. By the time the virus variants were under control the economy was screwed. There were two Australias now, different in outlook and wealth, and the gap between them was vast. Around here was feeling the pain but not the Australia where Maree and Pete came from.

I turned to Maree.

“And Maree, before the petting zoo what were you up to?”

She didn’t answer straightaway.

“I used to be in HR, but I was retiring anyway before COVID.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Wish I hadn’t though. I hate the Petting Zoo. I hate it.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“I wish we had never bought it. If I could just drive off and leave the bloody trailer here I would do it right now.” She dissolved into tears and searched her handbag for a tissue.

Pete leant over and put his meaty arm over her shoulder. “Now hon you don’t mean that. This morning was awful but it was just a one off. Most kids are good and their parents too. It’s not going to be like this every time.”

He turned to me. His face had that look that men use when their wife has embarrassed them.

“We caught a kid today putting a cigarette out on a calf’s leg. Actually butting it out on the calf like it was an ashtray. The kid couldn’t have been more than twelve. When Chloe heard the calf cry out, she turned around and saw him. She couldn’t believe it at first and when he saw her look, he didn’t stop. When she yelled at him, he just sloped off to the fence where his friends were and then they bolted. By that stage Maree and I had looked up from where we were in the enclosure. Some kids, you know they get overexcited and try to hug the lambs or the calves too hard. They corner the animals and they get anxious, especially the kids, the baby goats I mean, not the children. Other kids, mums and dads too, they try to feed hot chips or chocolate to the animals.” He shook his head in bemused wonder. “So we are always walking around, checking the animals. Some of the parents are bloody slack too, they just drop the kids off and disappear as if we’re a childcare centre.”

“Anyway,” Pete continued, “Naturally Chloe, well she lost her shit. I mean who the hell puts a cigarette out on an animal. She was in tears and shaking. Maree spoke to her while I checked the calf. The calf was all right. No worse I guess than getting caught on a paddock’s barbed wire fence but I’d love to get my hands on the little shit though. He’d burnt three circles like the points of a triangle. Probably thinks he’s some kind of fucking devil worshipper.”

Maree was still crying. “I wanted to pack up and go straight away but Chloe insisted we stay. I mean I still can’t believe it. It was just an evil thing to do. How does a twelve-year-old get like that?”

I thought it sounded more like he was branding the calf like they do in cowboy movies and out in the bush. But I didn’t answer. Customer is always right after all. I had more customers so I went back to making coffees. After a while Pete and Maree got up and came over.

“Thanks again for the coffee and listening. We didn’t mean to unload like that. Got a bit of pep in the step again, hopefully get through to the finish now,” Maree said as they threw their empty cups in the bin beside the cart.

Pete grumbled. “Well we now know what to expect over this side of town. Not sure we will be coming back though.” They walked off through the noisy crowd.

About two hours later a police car pulled up. Two officers eased themselves out of the car, being careful not to catch the various attachments dangling from their uniforms on the seatbelts. The school principal was there to meet them. She waved towards the Petting Zoo on the oval and babbled to the officers before they headed off in that direction. They strode past me. The principal, short and slight was dwarfed by the beefy policeman beside her and seemed to be in constant danger of being run down by the taller officer behind. The trailing policeman turned and looked at me. We nodded at each other.

I started to pack up. Forget my previous rule about coffee drinking, no one drinks coffee on a hot afternoon when the school P&C association is selling alcohol and offering parents a side serve of singalong live music. I looked across the oval at three men setting up a portable spit roast beside a large marquee. The marquee had a makeshift bar at one end where parents were serving cans of beer and soft drink out of a mobile cold room. At the other end was a small stage and in between were rows of trestle tables filled with parents and kids.

Near the marquee I could see Pete and Maree and presumably their daughter Chloe, a taller slimmer figure in another black polo, breaking down the petting Zoo enclosure. They herded the animals into the modified horse float and loaded the prefabricated fence panels and paraphernalia on top of the four-wheel drive. They were in a hurry. The operators of the dodgems and the miniature Ferris wheel were still running their rides but obviously Pete’s Petting Zoo had had enough. Off to one side the policemen were talking with the school principal, some kids and their parents.

I walked over to where the access lane from the oval entered the school car park and waited until Pete drove across the grass. There were three or four impatient blasts of the horn as wandering packs of kids crossed slowly in front of their SUV. I saw one pack of three boys give the car the finger. Pete accelerated and stomped on the brakes stopping with the 4WD’s bulbar just inches from the boys. They sauntered off laughing while Pete leaned on the horn again. Once on the narrow drive leading up from the oval Pete accelerated wildly up the slope before coming to a violent stop beside me.

In the backseat Chloe looked down at her phone and stabbed at the screen with her thumbs. Maree wore massive wraparound sunglasses with gold arms. She looked like that rock singer when he looked like a fly. Pete’s face was beetroot colour and the cabin of the 4WD thrummed with emotion. He started yelling before his window was even down.

“The little fucking bastards came back. They came back and stole the calf out of the pen. I don’t know when they did it, we didn’t notice straightaway, didn’t twig what was going on.”

Pete sprayed the words. I stepped back and wished for the first time in months that I had a mask.

“They fucking planned it. I know it. Suddenly at one end of the pen there were four or five teenagers, maybe 13 or 14 years old, they surrounded Chloe asking stupid questions and crowding her and the animals. Maree had gone to the toilet. I looked over and I thought it was trouble but then some bloke came up and said that the one of the goat kids and butted his four-year-old and bowled her over. He pointed to the other corner of the pen and someone, I guess his wife, was looking daggers at me and holding a crying girl. I went over to sort that out and by the time I came back the teenagers were gone. Chloe hadn’t noticed anything, it was only when Maree came back from the toilet that she saw the calf was gone, and one of the bloody lambs as well. Chloe and I looked around, asked people while Maree called the cops and found that useless principal. But guess what? No one saw anything, not a fucking thing. We were set up; everyone was in on it.”

He paused for breath and then screamed.

“Fucking Shits!”

By this time Maree and Chloe were crying. Chloe said through her loud sobs, “Poor Arthur and Snowy, they’re not puppies. These idiots won’t even know what to feed them, how to look after them. I can’t believe someone would steal someone else’s pets. Steal from a kid’s petting zoo. The people around here are just… just fucked up”

I said, “Shit Pete, that’s awful. I can’t believe it. Can’t believe someone would do such a thing. Mate, I’m sure the cops will dig up something.” I looked at Maree and at Chloe. Mascara ran down their made-up cheeks. “I’m so sorry, look ladies I’m sure they will get them back for you”.

“Mate don’t even talk to me about the principal or the coppers,” Pete interrupted.

“They barely gave a shit. Tell you what mate, if I were you I’d get back to your van and leave this shithole before the bastards rob you.”

 And with that Pete roared off, his window winding up as he went. The float rocked and swayed as he sped through the carpark and turned on to the road. I heard the remaining lambs, kids and calves bleat with dismay and then as the 4WD’s exhaust roar faded away the guitarist on the stage started to play the opening chords of Oasis’s Wonderwall. The crowd roared.

I looked back to the oval. Lots of kids were still running around and playing as the sun lost its sting. I finished packing the van up but I didn’t drive away. I drove down the access lane on to the oval and over to the packed beer tent.

It was time to get the two carcasses out of the mobile cold room, help my brother dress them and put them on the spits for dinner.

Photo by Daniel Sandvik on Unsplash