Only the Animals by Ceridwen Dovey Read Free Book Online

for you at our first encounter at the zoological garden, many years ago, for the colour of your eyes in your wide, empty face. You may not remember me; my name, as you will come to know, is Red Peter – Red for my fur, Peter for my first trainer back in Prague.
    I shall send this letter directly to your new trainer, Frau Oberndorff, who has stepped in while her husband is away. She will be reading my letters aloud to you for now, though it sounds as if your progress with reading and writing is beyond expectations. I am pleased to hear from our benefactor, Herr Hagenbeck, that your comprehension and speaking skills are already quite remarkable.
    What to say, what else to tell you? My pipe is filled, a book of poetry lies at the foot of my armchair. I am looking out of my hotel window at the streets of Hamburg, watching dusk’s possibilities evaporate. My thoughts have snagged on old Peter, my namesake, the man who taught me to read. He is probably no longer alive. He was white-haired and kind, and took me along to see Halley’s Comet cross the sky, trapped in its oblong orbit, in 1910. We watched from the dome of the observatory, built above a bastion of Prague’s medieval Hunger Wall, with a small group of young literary dandies to whom I owe my sense of style.
    One was called Blei, another Kafka. The former took no notice of me. But Kafka, very thin, looked me directly in the eye. It was no moment of communion. He was envious of me, I think, of my small existence, and my ability to become almost invisible to humans at certain times. He lay down near me on the stone floor to watch the comet pass, which made me uncomfortable.
    I remember what he said to his companions that night as they left to walk home. ‘Had I not been lying on the ground among the animals, I would have been unable to see the sky and the stars. Perhaps I wouldn’t have survived the terror of standing upright.’
    The terror of standing upright, my dear, is something you will soon have to survive yourself. Do believe me that it is worth it. The view is much better from up here.
    Sincerely
    Red Peter
    Â 
    Dear Red Peter
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I enclose Hazel’s reply to your recent letter. I have tried to use her own dictated words as much as possible. She is coming along quickly now, as Herr Hagenbeck has informed you, and I am particularly pleased with her wordplay. Forgive her occasional coarseness, if you can. She has made a big leap recently, allowing me to dress her in an evening dress and small shoes without too much protest. It was the bodice that gave her the most trouble. The frustration with her body that she expresses should be seen as a positive step, I believe, as it can only motivate her to give up her chimpanzee habits and fully embrace human ways – as you have, to such astounding effect.
    My husband is indeed at the front. It was his choice to go, I should tell you, though men may not have the luxury of choice for much longer, not even family men. The children miss him dreadfully.
    Evelyn Oberndorff
    Dear Red Peter
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â What use is this body to anyone? Why can my nostrils not be small as pips? Why does hair grow on my back? Frau Oberndorff gives me exercises to do by the window in the laboratory. Calisthenics, she calls them, for a new body. I do what she says, for the ginger biscuits. They make my shit dark and hard.
    I saw women throwing boiled sweets and chocolate and fruit to the soldiers in the streets. My first taste of chocolate. I asked Frau Oberndorff why everybody is happy. The people are glad for a break in their routines, they are bored of life, she said. They think it is exhilarating to be at war. Exhilarating. A new word for me. New body, new word, new war. I ate too much chocolate and afterwards felt sick.
    Regards
    Hazel
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    Dear Evelyn
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I thank you for your reply, and for Hazel’s dictated note. I