Reminiscing
Reminiscing
In the office of his country house, which doubled as a Museum of Egyptology and boarding school, Mr. Smith sat at his desk, staring at a photograph that was twenty-seven years old. The forty-five-year-old veteran of World War II could only think of what it had been like to have been eighteen, travelling with Marcel Flandrin when the last lion of the Atlas Mountains had been seen.
Of the beasts that Mr. Smith owned, only Alexander, the male caracal was with him. As a caracal Alexander was a medium-sized cat with a robust build, long legs, a short face, long black tufted ears and long canine teeth. His coat was a uniformly reddish-tan with the ventral parts being lighter with small reddish-markings. As a male, he was twenty-inches at the shoulder, had a head-and-body length of thirty-one inches and his bushy tail was thirteen inches long.
Laying near Mr. Smith’s feet, Alexander looked around the room. From where he lay, he could see the photographs of Mr. Smith’s company during the war. Had the pictures been in color, Alexander would have recognized the likeness of Alan Carter, Mr. Smith’s nephew who at the estate. His father had been a member of Mr. Smith’s company and had died at Dunkirk. A year later Alan’s mother died and so, at the age of five, Alan came to live at the country house while his uncle was away fighting in the war.
Alexander could also see a bust of the pharaoh Merneptah, one of Mr. Smith’s discoveries made long before the birth of Alexander, his mate Roxana or even their predecessor Darius. Alexander and Roxana were both a year old and Darius had died at the age of sixteen the year prior. To the caracals, that bust was older than they could have possibly imagined.
A third thing that Alexander could see from where he lay was a wedding photo. Mr. Smith’s wife was three years deceased and their daughter Hippolyta was now six years old. Around such an excitable little girl, Alexander was a most nervous individual and when she was jumping for joy, Alexander always made sure he was nowhere near her. With Mr. Smith having recently married Igraine Smith, a woman seventeen years his junior, Alexander could only hope if their children would be calmer.
“Someday, Alexander…” said Mr. Smith, his voice deep and powerful. “Someday, we will go to Africa and photograph the big five: the lion, the leopard, the rhinoceros, the elephant, the buffalo, we will go to the Colony and Protectorate of Kenya where all five live and we shall see them.” Alexander rubbed his head against Mr. Smith’s right boot in response. Mr. Smith then continued, saying: “How long has it been since I was last there? I was last there when I was sixteen so twenty-nine years at least. I remember seeing an elephant with seven tusks all those years ago. Can you believe it, Alexander? Seven tusks! It is all a deformity in the tusk root and seven is the most an elephant has ever had. It was a bull and I remember him just staring at me…” Mr. Smith put the photograph down and wheeled his chair back. “There was a lion too… That was the first time I ever met Jones.” Alexander’s eyes narrowed, his ears flattened against his skull and he growled. “I know…” said Mr. Smith. “The gentleman is a boor! He treats the most awesome animals on this globe like Vlad the Impaler and those he does not, he abuses in his circus… And then there is that chimpanzee of his: Beelzebub… I swear, that little monster should have been euthanized. No sane person saves a zoo chimpanzee that killed one its fellows and cannibalized it on its first day from being euthanized.”
A knocking at the door caused Alexander to stand up and stare at the door. From the other side, Mr. Smith’s nephew Alan said, in his rich smooth voice: “Uncle Kull, we’re ready to leave!”
