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And then, as if second nature, my mind strayed in the wrong direction. To the morning I walked into Java and Teas Me. To the boisterous woman with silky blonde hair, radiant blue eyes, and a smile I won’t soon forget.
It never takes much for my mind to drift to her. We may have only spent one night together, but damn was it unforgettable.
Problem is, I need to forget her. Need to not set myself up for another trip down anguish avenue.
“A little more than a week. Peruse the town, take some pictures, and go home,” I remind myself. “Eight more days. Only eight.”
I dash into the B&B, drop off my notes, snag my camera, then leave. I hop in my SUV, crank the engine, and drive out of the lot. When I reach Main Street, I flick on my blinker then turn. Away from the heart of this town. Away from her.
I just need air.
Rescues Gone Wild is nothing short of brilliant. A place where previously injured or displaced animals can heal and live the remainder of their lives in a safe environment similar to what they would experience in the wild, with exceptions.
Majority of the animals here have their own habitat—each a little different depending on the animal. Visitors to the habitat have options on which tour they want to embark on. Aside from the petting farm, aquariums and reptile rooms, there is also the option to drive through the habitats of the larger animals.
On the far outskirts of Lake Lavender, I choose bravery and pay for the driving self-tour.
“Thank you for your support, sir,” the young woman at the ticket booth says. A toothy smile brightens her expression. “Would you like to feed the animals throughout the tour?”
Sounds fun. “Sure.”
She holds up a large loaf of thickly sliced bread. “This bread is made specifically for the animals here. Please do not feed them anything other than the bread.” She pauses and I nod. “One loaf or two?”
Lifting a hand to my chin, I scratch at the stubble there and shrug. “What would you recommend?”
“Two.” A chuckle leaves her lips as she shakes her head. “Some of the animals are quite greedy and you may run out with just one.”
“Then two it is.”
She tallies my order and I hand over my credit card. Twenty dollars later, she passes me the bread then holds up a small map and tells me about the setup. I listen to every word and rule she says. When she points to the bison area, she taps the map with more gusto.
“When you reach the elk and bison area, you’ll see two sets of gates. One will not open until the other is closed. While driving through this area, no matter what, do not stop. The only exception is if you’re having car trouble. If you stop, your car or person may incur damage, which we are not liable for.”
My eyes widen as I nod. “I understand.”
“You may choose to skip this enclosure and are given the option before gate one.” She staples my receipt to the map and hands it over. “If you need assistance anytime during the tour, our phone number is on the opposite side of the map.”
Though it is a cool fifty degrees out, sweat dampens my underarms.Sheesh, I hope I don’t need assistance.
Thanking her, I lightly press the accelerator and aim my SUV toward the start of the tour. I unfasten the twisty tie from both loaves of bread and drive uphill to the first observation area on the map—sika deer and prairie dogs.
As I crest the hill, I spot a young doe near the trees. I roll down the window halfway then fish a piece of bread from the bag. Pressing the brake, I stop and hold out the slice of bread. The deer doesn’t approach the car but eyes the bread. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I toss the bread in her direction and watch as she dashes for the piece once it lands.
Twenty feet ahead, I pause beside a sectioned-off area where the prairie dogs live. A few heads pop up when I stop and eye me in the hopes I will toss them bread. I throw a slice toward each end and in the middle of the enclosure.
Smiling, I press the accelerator and head for the next area. Llamas.
“Oh shit,” I blurt out as I enter the section.
My finger goes to the window button and I quickly roll up the window, only leaving a crack large enough to slide a piece of bread through. At the sight of my vehicle, several llamas charge forward. Until this very moment, I didn’t know charging was something llamas did.
Learn something new every day.
Shoving a piece of bread through the window crack, I press the accelerator a little harder and reach seven miles per hour. Not that it seems to help much.
One by one, the llamas hover around the car. Tongues licking the windows, a few sneaking in through the cracked driver’s side window. And all I can do is laugh as I shove more slices through the window.
“No wonder I need two loaves,” I say on a laugh as I offer another slice. “You guys may get one whole loaf.”
