TRICKY QUESTION

David kneels down on the lower slope of the back yard, waiting for the sump pump to kick in. In one hand he holds the end of a long ribbed hose. Water from the basement pump is expected to shoot out of the black tube at any moment.

Next to his feet an emptied terrarium lays on one side, ready to be rinsed out and cleansed of all the old sand, along with all of the stench left behind by his current pets.

Over next to the house, a plastic container rests in the noon shade. Covered with a scrap of wire screen mesh the boy found while rummaging through Bon Adventure's garage, the pan holds his entire collection of small animals.

Inside the deep pan, a lone salamander paddles around in several inches of clean water. A black cricket perches on his head, hitching a ride.

One medium-sized toad squats on a rock in the center of the tub. Four smaller ones, unsure of exactly where they want to be, hop from the top of the rock and into the water where they quickly change their minds again.

More jittery crickets kick through water of the crowded pool, while others climb about the sides of the jam-packed rock.

The whole zoo looks alert.

David takes the end of the hose and peers inside the thing.

“Dad, does water ever go up-hill?”

Bon Adventure sits in the shade as he pulls and rips at weeds. He thinks for a moment, but dismisses the thought of an odd river in Florida that runs north.

“Not that I’m aware of, son. No.”

“Then what about geysers, dad?”