She's Only Sleeping
I was in LA at the beginning of the month and got to visit my brother and his girlfriend Kelsey. She works in an animal refuge, and, being the sweet person that she is, took us on a private tour of the park. First came the reptile trailer, which also featured a tub full of hedgehogs (which timidly rolled into balls). I was most amused by a monitor lizard who kept nodding his head toward the glass, as if he wanted to be let out for an business appointment.

Then we went outside. In chain-link enclosures were spider monkeys, a bobcat and lynx ("be careful, he sprays" warned Kelsey, and in a few minutes it did), and servals (they pressed against the fence and hissed at us). Then we got to go inside the fox enclosure. Inside were a gray fox, a red fox and a white fox. The arctic fox ran all around the pen and wouldn't let us catch him. The red fox was shy and had to be approached gently. But the grey fox was quite gregarious and didn't mind being petted. When foxes interact with each other they make a cussing sound with their muzzles, but Kelsey assured us it was a sign of play.
In other pens were coatis, armadillos, tortoises, ostriches and a very friendly giraffe, who never got tired of bobbing his head at us with goodwill.

But the highlight of the tour for me was in a little shack. Its ceiling was flat and low, and several fake branches protruded near it. On a branch in the left corner was a kinkajou. "Can we pet him? I asked. "Yes," said Kelsey, "but be careful--he shits a lot." I decided not to pet him and moments later heard a loud "plop! plop! plop!" on the wooden floor.

In the opposite corner was a two-toed sloth, suspended from a branch by its enormous claws. "Can I pet it?" I asked. "Yes, but don't pet her head, because she might bite. Her name is Lola." Lola oh-so-slowly turned her head towards us, her large wet eyes half-open. She had obviously woken from her usual nap. I lightly petted her back--her fur was stiff and matted but had no algae, perhaps because she lived in fashion-conscious LA.

Thinking back on the loose-sphinctered kinkajou I asked, "So how often do sloths shit?"
Kelsey smiled. "Not often. It takes them 16 hours to go to the bathroom."
"What?!"
"You see, they have to crawl down from their perch, crawl out the door, crawl into the yard, make a hole, do their business, crawl out of the yard, crawl through the door, and crawl back onto their perch."
"Wow. They must have a full schedule."
"Yeah, especially since they sleep 20 hours a day."
Lola turned her head back to us. She looked like she wanted more beauty sleep so we bade her an affectionate farewell.
We didn't have a camera with us at the time, but a few days later Kelsey took her iphone to work and emailed me two pictures of the lovely Lola. And now I shall share them with you. If the only Lola you remember is Marlene Dietrich's character from The Blue Angel, then you're in for quite a shock. But Lola is beautiful in her own way...


I met her in a club down in old Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola
C-O-L-A Cola
She walked up to me and she asked me to dance
I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola
L-o-l-a Lola, Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo Lola...



Well I'm not the worlds most physical guy
But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo Lola
Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand
Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man
Oh my Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo Lola, Lo-Lo-Lo-lo Lola...