My wife and I were just taking our kid to the zoo. No big deal, but we are horse people and risk comes built in with our lifestyle. It follows us around like a rodeo clown with big floppy feet.

My wife is a delicate woman. Petite and pleasant... some think. She's so afraid of water she can’t stand on a dock, but on our forty acre spread she can make a testosterone-packed stallion bow on voice command.

“Bring your head down here!” she yells and he does.

So do I.

My body looks like cracked blue Wedgwood. Years on the rodeo circuit and training my own horses did that.

There is order to our household. The mare leads. The stallion protects the herd and gets to show off now and then.

Our daughter, Abby, came out a pretty good cross -- my temperament, my wife's looks.

We moseyed on down to the zoo with Abby and relived, through her four-year-old eyes, all those things we’d seen a thousand times – zebras, penguins, flamingoes, and “Oh look!” a rhino.

The rhino was maybe fifteen hundred pounds. It kept to a well-beaten circular track that ran under a wooden bridge and alongside a set of logs that separated it from the gawking public.

It did a little trot right in front of us and Abby clapped. "Lyno, lyno!" she screamed.

Then the rhino started to canter. It was as smooth as I'd ever seen. "That darn thing is related to horses," my wife said.

The canter is a rocking horse motion and he had a perfect natural saddle, just behind his front shoulders. "Look, his center of gravity is right in that hollow place," I said, leaning over the fence and pointing. "A guy gets there, he could ride all day."

My wife's head turned a mite too quickly for my liking. "Go for it," she said.

"What?"

"Go ride him. You gonna be chicken in front of your daughter?" She had her arms crossed.

"They've got rules, darling. This is a zoo."

"You've rode tougher places, tougher things." Her foot was tapping.

"Aw, baby?"

"I talked," she said looking away. "It's your turn to do."

"Thinks I'm crazy," I mumbled as I swung my leg over the fence. "Do what she says... neener, neener!" I didn't care if she heard me. I probably wasn't coming back anyway.

Though the rhino wasn't as tall as some horses, I'd have to find a hill to get on his back. And I didn't think he'd like me holding onto his ears. I had on a black leather jacket and jeans. Leather was good. Chain mail would have been nice.

"What's that man doing?" somebody's kid said.

I waved my Diamondbacks ball cap. "Just part of the show. Be real quiet... okay?" I smiled to the crowd like I'd done in my rodeo days.

I held up my index finger to tell my wife I'd ride for one second. I didn't have to look to know she was holding up two. And I found a grassy mound just the right size.

The rhino came up to me. "Used to people, eh? That's good. Bet you ain't used to this!" And I jumped on his back.

A rhino isn't as slow as you'd think.

Sure, they're heavy and broad across the back, but that boy spun around and would have thrown me right then if I hadn't grabbed his ears. He didn't like ear grabbers. He took off at a gallop and almost came out from under me.

I was counting. "One-thousand-one..."

I could hears kids screaming and parents going "Ohhhh!" and little Abby yelling, "Lyno, lyno!" I also saw the wood chipper my wife was going to buy me after this. The rhino had gone halfway across his dirt path and I was still on one-thousand-one.

I got to one-thousand-two and dared to lift up my arms.

That's when he ran under the bridge.

All these years, I'd never scarred up my face. Now I felt a dent in my forehead, which had to be four inches deep.

I landed on my back. "Don't pass out," I kept telling myself. I'd registered the sharpness of that horn. "Don't you dare pass out."

I rolled and got to my knees. The way the ground was shaking, I knew he was coming back. "Get up. Make the bridge. Go, go!" I said to the invisible rodeo clown standing next to me... wearing a green tie and huge red shoes. Every toe was painted a different color.

He said, "You can do it."

I said, "Thanks."

He said, "I'm outta here!" The invisible chicken.

I crawled one step. I got to a knee and managed to stand up. Then I felt that horn nick my butt and the rhino threw me over the fence.

I got up and tried to act dignified. I nodded, "I'm okay," to my wife and we started walking fast towards the exit.

The crowd had caught on. The best thing was to limp out of there fast as I could.

I hid behind a storage unit when the security guards came. My wife pointed back towards the rhino. "Big guy," she said. "Wearing a suede coat." They started running. Ya gotta love a woman who'll lie for you.

We made it to the car where my wife used her home vet kit to give me a few stitches. I was lying bare-assed across her lap. When she was done, she gave me a pat.

"Did I make it two seconds?"

"Nah," she said. "More like three."

I looked at her pretty face. "Don't make me do stuff like that no more," I said and she sighed like she thought I did that on my own or something.

Abby’s faced was pushed against the car window, her small finger pointing at the back of a red coat just blending into the crowd. "Clown, daddy!," she screamed. I looked up to see a green tie flapping in the wind.

— Gary Cadwallader just about gets it all figured out... and the rules change. So, he's planning on living under a bridge... with his rhinocerous and a six-foot invisible chamleon named Sven.

This piece was first published in INK POT #2 - 2003, a literary journal.

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