You're An Animal

            by Alina Schnake-Mahl

 

Jill lifted her hand slowly and replaced it two feet in front of its starting position, wrist first, pads of fingers following.  It was a dance, a movement she had practiced numerous times.  She stared into the mirror, head lifted high in order to see her own reflection from her crouched position on the ground. Narrow eyes and tense body, a loud rarrraaahhhh spewed from her mouth: pink, and filled with small dull teeth. Her hair was matted and sweat trickled down her sparsely clothed body.  Jill scratched the desk, bed, walls, herself, hoping to find the place where her human form disappeared and the beast took over.

                                    *                       *                          *

 

Jill loved animals: dogs, cats, toucans, elephants, crocodiles, anteaters and especially hamsters.  Each day after school she lugged her puppy dog print backpack onto her shoulder and pumped her chubby legs along the eight block trip to her house.  She would screech to a stop in front of the yellow-shingled house with purple windowpanes.  Ringing the doorbell three times, bring bring briiiiiing, until her perturbed mother opened the door.

“Jill, I heard the first ring, there’s no need for two more.”

“Sorry Ma, but if I don’t hurry I’ll miss it.”

“Go ahead then, grab some fruit from the kitchen.”

A short jog to the kitchen and then Jill arrived at her destination: the couch in front of the TV.  The clock read 3:27.  Jill grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, found channel 51 and settled in for an hour of bliss: Animal Planet.

            Jill didn’t have many friends. Outside of her home she seemed a normal enough girl.  She was often a bit dirty, and her arms had scratches that worried her teachers, but she wasn’t socially challenged.  She just enjoyed the company of animals more.  Besides, people generally wouldn’t let her pet their heads, even if their hair looked soft.  Jill could talk to animals incessantly, without any bothersome interruption of words from them.

Every year her report card came back with the same comments.  “Jill is a dedicated, intelligent student.  However, she seems to interact better with the classroom pets than the other students.”

            When Jill ventured out of her realm of comfort and talked to other children the conversations tended to revolve around her favorite subject.  Even if they didn’t begin about animals, she would turn them towards it. 

            “ Ok, so what are we going to do for this group project about a winter holiday?” A classmate questioned.

“Arctic wolves circle their prey and prowl around them until the prey scatters and then can pick them off one by one.  They do really good group work.”

            Jill’s mother, Susan, didn’t condone Jill’s strange attraction to animals, but she felt rather helpless.  As a mother could she really deny her only daughter the pleasure she gained from animals?  Jill brought home sick animals, and Linda told Jill they could stay for a week until they healed.  The animals never left.  The house was filled with barks, shrieks and growls.  Tanks, cages, water and food bowls, litter boxes, wheels and scratching posts stood in every space not taken up with furniture. This caused an incessant smell and layer of fur and feathers to take over the house.  Susan tried to clean the place, but to no success.  She just plastic over her door to keep out all the shed matter, and plugged her ears with cotton to shut out the continuous noise of animals. 

Jill’s room was an ode to her passion.  The encyclopedia of Animals permanently sat open on her desk.  Next to it lay the wildlife fact file with a long giraffe printed across the front.  The mountain lion: Order Carnivora, Family: Felidae.  Like other cats, the mountain lion stalks its prey, sprinting after it if it attempts to flee.  Then, pouncing on the animals back with a powerful leap that knocks it to the ground, the mountain lion kills its prey with a single bite to the nape of the neck.

 Jill found lost pets on the street sometimes, and took them in.  If she saw a lost sign for it, she immediately ripped it down; hoping no one would find out she’d taken the pet in. 

            At school on the 12^th of December the teacher announced that the entire class would take a field trip to Tilden Park.  The purpose of the trip was to look for native plants and animals that lived in the park. This would be Jill time. She could show off her knowledge, her enthusiasm. 

“Ms. Green, Ms. Green,” Jill piped up enthusiastically.

“Now Jill, I know you’re excited, but we don’t just speak up in class.  You’re going to need to raise your hand, and then I will call on you.” Replied Ms. Green calmly.

Jill’s hand shot up into the air.

“Yes Jill.”

“Ms. Green, I have a family of hamsters. Well, I had a family now I only have the mommy and daddy.  That’s because I forgot to feed them for a few days.  The mommy got so hungry she ate all the feet off of her babies and they bled to death,” Jill informed the class in a cheery manner. 

“Jill, that is a very disturbing story. I also don’t understand how it has to do with the field trip.”

“Ohh, it isn’t.  I just thought everyone should know that.” Jill said with a smile. 

 

            The door creaked forward and “Sweetie” was audible.  Such a sound had no significance to Jill at this time.  Only hisses, purrs, snarls and growls sent descriptive messages to her brain.  The movement of the door was the sign to move, pounce, attack.  In one bound Jill was upon the trespasser of her territory, using any part of her body to bring them down. 

            Susan fended off her daughter, “Jill, Jill, JILL what are you doing?” She grabbed Jill’s arms, pinning them to her body.  “Jill, you stop this right now.  I’ll give you until the count of three.”

            Jill smelled the familiar scent of her mother and suddenly removed herself from her present mental condition. 

            “Ohh mommy.  I’m sorry mommy.  I didn’t realize it was you. Did I hurt you I’m sorry.  Sometimes I get a little carried away.”

            “God Jill.  Sometimes you’re an animal, a complete animal.  I just want my sweet little girl.”

            Jill opened her eyes and looked into her mother’s, pushing her lips out ever so slightly, “I’m sorry mommy, but I loooooovvvveee animals.”

            “I know you do Jill.  But can’t you love them without becoming one? If you don’t stop this behavior soon I’ll need to get rid of some of your influences.  They crowd up this house.”

 

            The field trip was scheduled for the following week.  Jill had gathered her supplies days earlier and added new items daily: a notebook, a disposable camera, sketching pencils, and select pages of the Wildlife Factfile.  She discussed the trip with her mother every opportunity that arose.

            “Mommy, did you know that there are over 100 native animal species in Tilden?”

            “Really? Over 100? I didn’t know that.”

            Jill’s excitement grew.  “Did you know that lately in Tilden there has been a lot of Mountain lions?  One attacked a biker last weekend.  It ripped the bike rider’s leg off.  She’s ok though.”

            “That’s not very pleasant.  Stay away from them Jill.”

            “Ok, but the babies are really cute though.  Anyway though, they don’t go up to big groups.  We’ll be in a big group.”

            The day of the trip Jill arrived at school half an hour early.  She tottered from foot to foot in anticipation; amazed the day had finally come. Single file, the class entered the BUSD large yellow bus.  Jill took a seat in the back, with no bus partner: She needed to concentrate on the upcoming excitement. As the bus rounded the top of Grizzly Peak Jill saw the forest of trees.  She imagined that behind each trunk an animal was hidden ready for her to examine, interact with and learn.  

Jill was at the front of the bus before the other students had thought about standing up.  The bus driver pressed the door release and Jill sprang from the bus, landing on all fours.  She scanned the open field that stood before her: yellow, brown and green grasses.  Standing in the field Jill restrained herself from sprinting off into the woods without her classmates.

The class finally filed off the bus and broke off into 3 small groups.  Every person was assigned a buddy; they had to stay with their buddy the entire trip.  All the other children quickly grabbed the hand of a friend, leaving Jill to partner up with a girl who was unlucky enough to find no other partner available.  Across the field marched the class, Jill at the back of her line.  She would stop to look at a bug, and the rest of the class would continue to walk, forcing her to run to catch up. 

The next two hours passed with little excitement.  At least little excitement for a normal child; for Jill it was two hours of animal filled glory.  The class returned to that first meadow to eat the bagged lunches every child had brought.  After eating, they were given 45 minutes of free time.  After waiting patiently for twenty minutes Jill had to find more animals.  Big ones.   

She grabbed her partner’s hand, “Lets go on an adventure.”

“Ok,” the girl replied, rather cautiously.

“Come on, we’ll go down that path into the woods.  That’s where lots of animals live.  Animals like the cottontail rabbit.  The girl of those rabbits can have three to four liters of nine babies each year.  That’s a lot a bunnies.”

 “But, we’re supposed to stay in this area.  That’s what the teacher said.”

 

Ignoring the wise girl, Jill strolled into the woods, tugging the girl along with her.  They ventured away from the group, so far that the giggles of the other children couldn’t be heard.  Jill stopped every few feet to inspect an insect or to listen for the movement of a larger animal.  There stood, up ahead, a granite rock 15 feet tall.  With the meager height of young children, neither Jill nor her partner could see what stood atop the rock.  They didn’t see it until it leaped from the high rock to the lower one below it, and finally to the ground in front of the two girls.  Its yellow eyes glared and its wet tongue slapped loosely against its sharp teeth.  To the normal observer this was a horrible beast, terrifying and menacing.  Not to Jill.  To Jill, the mountain lion’s eyes invited her to step forward and put her hand out to pet the smooth fur.  As Jill slid forward for the embrace the mountain lion preyed open its mouth and stared back at Jill. 

“Jill, Jill what is that?  Don’t do that Jill, you’ll make it mad.  Just make it go away. Make it go away.” The girl pleaded and sobbed.

“It’s nice, it wants to be my friend.” 

Jill continued her slow reach toward the animal.  Finally reaching the cat, she stroked it between its ears.  Upon contact the mountain lion became agitated.  It let out a Graaaarrrrhhh, and the girl instantly sprinted away, leaving Jill alone.  Jill had never before felt this connection with an animal.  Most other ones she’d encountered had been pets or caged.  This was a real animal: free, untamed, and dangerous.  The cat and Jill simply stared into one another’s eyes, reading each other.  Suddenly, with no apparent reason, the cat lurched forward, knocking Jill lightly to the ground.  With that, the cat disappeared, severing the connection of two animals. 

“I’ll see you soon.  I love you.”

The girl had told her teacher, who spoke to Susan, about the Mountain Lion incident.  Infuriated, Susan gave Jill’s favorite snake to the local Vivarium and took away Jill’s “Animal Planet” privileges as punishment.  For weeks Jill refused to speak to her mother, and instead communicated with hisses or growls.  She spent all her time in her room, practicing animal behavior and reading her books. 

“Jill, will you stop this nonsense.  I want my little girl back.”

“sharrrah”

“If I take you to Tilden will you stop this nonsense?”

“Yes, Yes, Yes!” Jill screamed, uttering her first human words of late. 

“My god, you’d rather be with animals than with your own mother.”

                        *                      *                      *

            Jill and Susan paced through the green wilderness.  Silence folded around them, and only the slight sound of far off cars could be heard. 

            “Shit! Jill I’m sorry I think I just dropped my cell phone after I looked at the time a few minutes ago. I’m going to run back and try to find here.”

            “Okay mommy.”

            “Be a good girl for me and stay here.  Don’t wonder off, even if you see an animal, stay here. I love you okay? All right, goodbye.”

            “Love you too mommy. I’ll be good.”

            Jill tilted her head back, trying to see the top of the trees.  She retreated into her mind, imagining that she was a wild rabbit: sprinting through the trees, sleeping in small burrows, eating grasses anytime she pleased. 

            The bay area fog had settled on the day, making visibility twenty feet ahead impossible.  The fog muffled the sound of a twig breaking, but it was audible to Jill.  She swiveled to find the source of the sound and felt a force upon her back that threw her to the ground.  A sharp object sunk into Jill’s neck, crushing her spinal chord and instantly killing her.

            Susan leaned forward in the rocking chair, staring straight ahead and holding a cup of chamomile tea.  The animals were all gone:  the snakes to school, cats to neighbors, spiders and bugs to the street.  It had been satisfying to smash the bird the head of the bird that pecked her every time she brought it food.  In place of the animals were clean surfaces and hairless furniture. The silence and tranquility was soothing and beautiful.  Susan had needed to get all of the animals out of the house.  All of them.