It’s been hot in our little corner of the world the last few days. Mercifully, not as hot as other parts of the country, but plenty toasty just the same.
A few weeks ago when Captain Cavedweller and I went out of town, we decided to stop by a zoo. It was hot that day, too.
As in roasting.
As in sweltering.
As in suck the air from your lungs suffocating.
As in part of me is still melted back by the giraffes and zebras.
Walking around the zoo, hot and dazed by the oppressive humidity, we didn’t see many of the animals. The only ones who seemed to be acting with any degree of normalcy were those in air conditioned buildings like the birds and meerkats above.
(On a side note, the meerkats are industrious and highly entertaining to watch).
We saw the giraffe family, one which seemed to have a tongue at least three feet long as it stretched to get leaves out of the tree.
We saw lions and tiger and bears, oh my. Except the lions and the tigers were hot and panting in the shade. This sloth bear was the only one moving around and he was moving as fast as a… sloth.
These little guys were to hot and pooped to even eat their breakfast. They just hung out by the food, begging for popsicles.
Not really, but if they could ask, I bet they would have.
The striped hyena was showing about as much enthusiasm as I was feeling at the moment. Did I mention it was hot and sultry and miserably warm?
This guy was moving faster than me by the time we got to his display.
The Komodo dragon was outside, sprawled out, panting and cranky (somewhat like I felt by that time). He gave all new meaning to phrase panting like a lizard on a hot rock.
And oddly, I wanted to join him.
She Who Will Not Be Touring Any Zoos During a Heat Wave Again