Earlier this month I watched a video about a Florida couple’s encounter with killer whales in Mexico.
Naturally, I thought of Lolita.
My earliest memories are of seeing her leap into the air and touch the orange ball with her nose, drenching the tourists by her tank with cold water. As I child I dreamed of becoming a marine biologist or whatever occupation that would allow me to swim in the tank with her. But the humanities proved a stronger pull.
I’ve never been of fan of zoos because seeing animals in cages is terrible, even children know that. But tanks are trickier to conceive as prisons and I feel stupid now for never realizing that Lolita (and her friends at the Miami Seaquarium) got a raw deal. Perhaps she leaped out of the water hoping to escape and make it home.
Lolita is my first puppy. I hope the Feds get this one right.