When I Think of Zoos...

... I think of a story about a thieving orangoutang.

As a child, I sucked my thumb and carried a blanket wherever I went.

One day when I was four years old, my parents took my younger brother and I to the zoo; obviously I went equipped with thumb in mouth and blanket in hand.

At the orangoutang house, I found a monkey version of myself. He too was equipped with a burlap sack that served as blanket, and a thumb in his mouth.

The orangoutang and I stared at each other, as others admired the similarities between us. Through the his cage bars that separate monkey from man, the orangoutang reached out his arms; one empty, one with his blanket. He wanted to trade.

I stepped up to the human restriction bar and held my blanket out only in curiosity, with no intention to trade. The crowd around us cheered, and my dad held me steady over the bar that humans are not supposed to pass.

Then the monkey and I became enemies. He grabbed my blanket and almost pulled it away from me, luckily my dad grabbed it back before the damage was done.

I stared at the orangoutang, and he stared back at me. My mother said "Okay everyone needs to wash their hands now." We proceeded to the restroom, but I kept my eyes locked on the dirty monkey that almost stole my blanket.