all.
There were six of the big cages, and eventually there would be six squirrels in each one, divided by colour and sex. The first of them moved into their new homes about a week after I started working there, but three weeks later there were still a few ‘thick’ ones stuck in the transport cages. One of them was a male grey, that I called Gooch. He used to tease me. I swear he did. When I put my hand into the cage he would come along and climb straight on to it. He would let me stroke his head; he loved being stroked; but the minute I tried to close my hand around him he would make a dramatic dash to the corner of the cage, sending shavings and sunflower husks flying. But he wouldn’t stay there cowering, as he would have done if he was really scared. Instead he would come bouncing straight back and hop up on to my open hand again. I guess he wasn’t so thick, after all.
Anyway, they’re all gone now. I don’t like to think about which ones ended up where. In my mind’s eye I see them all racing away through the branches, drinking the cold, sweet air that only old trees can make.
5
D AD NEEDN’T HAVE HAD any worries about Javed tipping off the animal rights activists. He was probably the last person in the world who would have done that.
I realized that on the first day he came into the lab. It was a Friday evening after school, and one of the first really sunny days of the summer. I showed him around the complex and ended up giving him and Alex a lesson in rodent handling. Alex was keen and was soon up to his elbow in curious squirrels. Javed hung back, reluctant. Eventually I persuaded him to put his arm into one of the cages, but the instant the first baby touched his hand he snatched it violently away and slammed the wire door closed.
‘No way,’ he said, almost running over to the sink to wash his hands. ‘I don’t like them. They are too much like rats.’
He wasn’t keen on animals of any description. He was getting used to Randall, but to begin with he had been very nervous of him and even now, if Randall ran to greet him too enthusiastically he would instinctively throw up his hands and back away. When he was bowling during our cricket matches he would keep a rag in his back pocket for wiping the drool off the ball. He always brought several of them, so that as soon as one got too damp he could change it for a fresh one. I thought it was neurotic behaviour, but after the episode with the squirrels he explained it to me and I understood why.
We were taking a lunch break out on the narrow strip of rough grass between the yard and the woodland. I sat facing the trees. I wasn’t afraid of being attacked by the white horseman but I couldn’t bear the idea that he might be there behind me, watching from the shadows. As long as I could see I was fine.
‘I don’t know how you can stand picking them up,’ said Javed. ‘They even smell like rats.’
‘What have you got against rats?’ I asked him.
‘Not just rats,’ he said. ‘It’s different here. You don’t have to worry about rabies. But we were always taught to keep our distance from small animals.’
‘So you never had any pets?’
‘No. My mother hates them. There was a dog at our place in Sunderabad once but it wasn’t really a pet. We didn’t play with it or take it for walks. It was just there, outside in the servants’ yard. It’s gone now. I don’t know what happened to it. Some people in the city have pet dogs and cats but we don’t.’
‘You had servants?’
‘They are still there, looking after the house,’ he said. ‘That’s the way things are in Shasakstan.’
‘You must be stinking rich,’ said Alex. ‘How come you never told me?’
‘You never asked,’ said Javed.
Alex and I were quiet for a while, absorbing that, then Alex said: ‘Did you ever know anyone who got rabies?’
‘No,’ said Javed. ‘It isn’t all that common. But we heard about cases of it in the area now and then. Sometimes
There were six of the big cages, and eventually there would be six squirrels in each one, divided by colour and sex. The first of them moved into their new homes about a week after I started working there, but three weeks later there were still a few ‘thick’ ones stuck in the transport cages. One of them was a male grey, that I called Gooch. He used to tease me. I swear he did. When I put my hand into the cage he would come along and climb straight on to it. He would let me stroke his head; he loved being stroked; but the minute I tried to close my hand around him he would make a dramatic dash to the corner of the cage, sending shavings and sunflower husks flying. But he wouldn’t stay there cowering, as he would have done if he was really scared. Instead he would come bouncing straight back and hop up on to my open hand again. I guess he wasn’t so thick, after all.
Anyway, they’re all gone now. I don’t like to think about which ones ended up where. In my mind’s eye I see them all racing away through the branches, drinking the cold, sweet air that only old trees can make.
5
D AD NEEDN’T HAVE HAD any worries about Javed tipping off the animal rights activists. He was probably the last person in the world who would have done that.
I realized that on the first day he came into the lab. It was a Friday evening after school, and one of the first really sunny days of the summer. I showed him around the complex and ended up giving him and Alex a lesson in rodent handling. Alex was keen and was soon up to his elbow in curious squirrels. Javed hung back, reluctant. Eventually I persuaded him to put his arm into one of the cages, but the instant the first baby touched his hand he snatched it violently away and slammed the wire door closed.
‘No way,’ he said, almost running over to the sink to wash his hands. ‘I don’t like them. They are too much like rats.’
He wasn’t keen on animals of any description. He was getting used to Randall, but to begin with he had been very nervous of him and even now, if Randall ran to greet him too enthusiastically he would instinctively throw up his hands and back away. When he was bowling during our cricket matches he would keep a rag in his back pocket for wiping the drool off the ball. He always brought several of them, so that as soon as one got too damp he could change it for a fresh one. I thought it was neurotic behaviour, but after the episode with the squirrels he explained it to me and I understood why.
We were taking a lunch break out on the narrow strip of rough grass between the yard and the woodland. I sat facing the trees. I wasn’t afraid of being attacked by the white horseman but I couldn’t bear the idea that he might be there behind me, watching from the shadows. As long as I could see I was fine.
‘I don’t know how you can stand picking them up,’ said Javed. ‘They even smell like rats.’
‘What have you got against rats?’ I asked him.
‘Not just rats,’ he said. ‘It’s different here. You don’t have to worry about rabies. But we were always taught to keep our distance from small animals.’
‘So you never had any pets?’
‘No. My mother hates them. There was a dog at our place in Sunderabad once but it wasn’t really a pet. We didn’t play with it or take it for walks. It was just there, outside in the servants’ yard. It’s gone now. I don’t know what happened to it. Some people in the city have pet dogs and cats but we don’t.’
‘You had servants?’
‘They are still there, looking after the house,’ he said. ‘That’s the way things are in Shasakstan.’
‘You must be stinking rich,’ said Alex. ‘How come you never told me?’
‘You never asked,’ said Javed.
Alex and I were quiet for a while, absorbing that, then Alex said: ‘Did you ever know anyone who got rabies?’
‘No,’ said Javed. ‘It isn’t all that common. But we heard about cases of it in the area now and then. Sometimes
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