The ZOO Part 1: The Wolf Pack

I'm just glad this story didn't end up in the gorilla cage because it would have ended quite differently.

I will tell you right up front that I had to add a little spicy license to this epic story. Although each Dahlin will tell it a little differently, this is the way I choose to tell it. I checked in with my dog, Poochie, and based on her recollection of the story - she assures me that I did a fairly good job at capturing the essence. I wouldn't totally trust my memory, but since my beloved beagle has a much better memory than me, you can bet that this is accurate - within a fibbing margin of about + or - 10%.

Again, the story beings with our mom having to "up" her self-esteem stock value, especially when compared to the picture of perfection just across the Street.

The Lennon Girls

 

The Dahlin Boys

From this picture, maybe you can get an idea. We were rambunctious, mischievous, energetic, liked to climb and as proud Swedes (Vikings) wanted to conquer the world.  Could you just imagine taking the10, 11 or 12 of us to the Zoo. A neighbor called us The Wolf Pack.

THIS OUTING WAS DOOMED FOR FAILURE from the start. (Mom didn't know that though).

  

This picture was taken about the time the incident that ended up on the front page of the newspaper. BTW: I am pictured here with my brother Bjorn (name changed to protect the guilty) my dad, and third born Knut (also an alias).



Part 1

The Wolf Pack was not pleased about having to get up early on a Saturday or going to the zoo, but being squeezed into the decrepit old Dodge on top of that only made things ten-times worse. With Four-Eyes and Chewy, there were twelve of us that needed to be packed into the rusted overstuffed station wagon like too many sardines in a small can.  When mom turned the key in the ignition it groaned and moaned and sputtered a couple times. 


As was customary, Gustav got out, crawled under the car and hit the starter motor with a large wrench he found in the “flower-bed.”

Whack! Whack! Went his clunking under the car. “Try it again” he yelled from underneath. 
Whir, Sputter, Grind, Ca-put went the beast as a black cloud of smoke shot from the tail pipe as though it was waving the white flag of surrender.  Three of the older boys angrily join Gustav in pushing the car backwards down the driveway as mom popped the clutch. The tires screeched as the clunker resentfully sputtered to life, nearly catapulting us across the street into our neighbor’s driveway - barely stopping before hitting the bumper of their 63 Cadillac.
  
Half in and half out of the street mom, pumped the gas pedal in an effort to keep it alive as the four older boys climbed back in with the urgency of a Chinese fire-drill. Faces pushed up against windows, fogged by the warm bodies of stinking teenagers, my mom clutched the steering wheel with a death grip and let out a desperate sigh.  I was excited. We were going to the zoo! With all the Dahlin hoopla, noise, and various body parts spilling out of open windows, away we rolled. 

 

We were off to the zoo!

Poor mom forced a smile just in case any of the neighbor ladies happened to be watching.  I saw a faint trace of hope on her face because of the story she would tell the ladies tomorrow after church.  I alone had heard her rehearse the speech and knew it would take a miracle for anything remotely resembling "normal" to happen.


 Like the cigarette commercial "You could take the Dahlins out of Venice but you couldn't take the Venice out of the Dahlins.  


Rooting for mom, I crossed my fingers. I saw her look across the street to shrine of Mary in the Lennon’s front window.  Slowly she drove, hoping that Sis Lennon with her NORMAL FAMILY would see us heading out to do what “normal” families do.

During her unhurried left turn (still clearly within the view of the Blessed Virgin Mary and Mrs. Lennon), Dooh-Dooh Pants “popped the cork” and stunk up the entire car. It smelled like baby diarrhea and I started gagging.  “I’d rather bear the shame than the pain.” He said laughing, until Liver-Lips whacked him - a good one.

Mad Dog knew what was about to happen. He grabbed my head and forced my lips into the small gap of the partially opened window.  He held it there while I blew this morning’s clumpy Malt-O-Meal and part of last night’s fish sticks down the entire side of the car like a snow blower.  Everyone began freaking out, hitting each other, yelling and screaming and doing everything they could not to get hit by the warm vomit confetti. Everyone beat up on poor Dooh-Dooh Pants blaming him as mom stepped on the gas pedal, burning rubber, and now praying instead, that none of the neighbors would see us escaping from Venice.  


Next time, (part 2) Venice invades the LA ZOO - True Story!