Dinner for Three
"The surfboard was my getaway car, so to speak. ...You’re welcome to it if you want to escape this grubby sand dune.” [Episode 11]
You are reading 🏝The Little Island and the Hungry Dog, an illustrated chapter book for kids published in serialized form here on Substack. Previously, our marooned Marco was anticipating the imminent arrival of Baldy, the seagull, and a UFO — an unidentified floating object. If you’re new to the story, you can catch up here.
Gordo, the sea otter, introduced himself with the confidence and flair of an animal that has been pampered by humans (not unlike myself).
“I was a pet, too, you know,” Gordo told me, by way of introduction, bypassing any attempt at formality. (He told me his name only later).
As he spoke, he rode the turquoise surfboard all the way up to the seashell-spotted shoreline before effortlessly sliding off as if he was on a shopping mall escalator.
Was I about to be lectured by a fellow (lost?) pet on needing toughness and courage? Was I dealing with a creature who had grown jaded about his human owners and now wanted nothing to do with civilized society?
I looked for help from Baldy, but as soon as the sea otter had hopped off his surfboard, Baldy fluttered off to pick at crustaceans on some nearby driftwood.
“For several years my job was to go up and down slides at a zoo in south Florida,” Gordo continued. “The kids loved me — that is, until the whale came out. Once they saw Willy, or whatever his name was, I was ignored, no matter how gracefully I glided down the slick blue surface of the slide — or how high my ariels were on a surfboard. I suppose all that rejection just made it easier for me to leave when, during a hurricane — not the most recent one, though that was a doozy — the zoo flooded and I soon found myself swimming in a holding pond outside my habitat. After a brief stay evading capture there, I traversed drainage system to drainage system until I made it to the Gulf coast.”
Gordo paused to breathe in the salty air and feel the breeze on his whiskers.
“That was around the time that Gordo decided to make his way back to the West Coast, where he says he was taken from his family as a baby,” Baldy said, joining the conversation.
“So, um, Gordo, where did you get the surfboard?” I asked, looking behind him at the colorful foam plank he’d crashed into the shore.
“Oh that. I think I nabbed it from a 10-year-old who was quote-unquote surfing with his dad on those tiny Gulf ripples. Can’t even call them waves, really. The surfboard was my getaway car, so to speak. I have no use for it now, so I’ll just leave it here. You’re welcome to it if you want to escape this grubby sand dune.”
“Escape? On that?” I asked.
“Well, not if you like it here. Seems nice, I suppose. But I’m on to bigger and better things. Well, not really. I’m going back home, you see. I’m going to swim my way all the way to California. With the help of sea currents, of course.”
Said Baldy: “I don’t know if our friend Marco will be able to escape on this thing, but parking it here might draw some attention to the island. It could serve as a sort of SOS to para-sailors and airplane pilots. But the main reason Gordo, here, swung by the island is that I convinced him to hunt you up a meal or two before he takes the next ocean current out of these parts.”
Without another word, Gordo slipped into the water and disappeared. Baldy and I hopped onto some large rocks and looked out at the gulf.
“Apparently, Gordo became quite the skilled surfer while living at the zoo,” Baldy said, while stretching his wings and turning into the breeze.
“Impressive,” I replied. “But California? That’s a long way from here.”
“I suppose so, but, the way Gordo talks, it’s the only place he can survive in the wild.”
After about an hour, the sea otter had pulled ashore three big fish, dragging each one up to the big rocks.
I started to bite into the first of them as soon as it arrived, but Baldy gave me the evil eye. So I waited until all three of us had a giant fish before continuing with my meal.
I’m sure the fish would have tasted better fried, but it wasn’t half-bad raw. Even better was the company. For once, I was not alone.
[To be continued…]
Not sure how you do it but every time you post you always hold me in it. Great work.