Ally Oop McNay

Nestled in the Old Riverside Zoo, the alligator pit created a hot spot of interest when Husband and I grew up in Wichita.

Even after the zoo moved to its newest location, we would visit the pit and talk about our memories as children.

One evening shortly before we became engaged, Husband took me to the old zoo for a stroll and to play on the statues there. It doesn’t matter that we were in our early 20’s; so what if the figures were designed for younger children? This zoo belonged to us and our childhood experiences.

Husband took me by the hand and in solemn procession led me to the empty pit.

“This is where we brought Henry Egghead Ally Oop McNay,” he said in near reverence.

“This is where you brought who-o-o-?” I asked with suspicion. I never was quite certain in those days when I was being set-up for one of his jokes.

“This is where we brought our alligator. When he got too big for the bathtub, Mom phoned the zoo and asked if they would take him.”

I am certain Husband kept looking at the pit to focus on the mental pictures running through his mind.

“And which of you named that poor ‘gator such a fancy name?”   I thought maybe all four kids got together with that name.

“Dad,” he replied.

“Your Dad?” I asked incredulously. His dad did not seem the type to me at that time. Of course, now I know it sounds just like him.

“Yes, Dad.” He paused several times as he pulled the memories from the back of his mind. All the time he kept staring at the pit.

“I remember the comic Ally Oop about the Caveman, but where did the other names come from?”  I laughed to think of the alligator being named for a cartoon that began sometime in the 1930’s.

“They were characters in the cartoon strip. It was all part of the comic strip. It was something popular at the time. Dad liked it.”

“Where did you get the ‘gator?” The memory of the story was a bit fuzzy to me.

“Dad mailed him to me in 1959 for my birthday. He was in Florida on business for Boeing, and he sent me a present for my ninth birthday.  Ally Oop was only six or seven inches long. It was the days before  federal regulations put an end to that type of mail.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I liked it for a few days, but then I lost interest. It needed care and oversight, so I became bored with it. Mom was the one who liked things like that, and she was the one who took care of it.”

“That sounds like her. Did your Dad really think you would be into things like a ‘gator?”

“Who knows,” Husband shrugged and turned from the pit. “I did like it for a while until the son-of-a bitch bit me. He put a small hole in my forefinger.”

“Which one, the ‘gator or your Dad?” We laughed together on that one.

Husband looked serious. “Even at that age I felt Dad did not accept me or even like me. I think I was surprised that he sent me something, even it did seem weird.”

“I doubt he thought he was being weird. I bet he thought he was doing something that would really interest your natural curiosity.”

Husband paused again, “Yeah. Well. Whatever. We would come each spring to watch the caretakers take Ally Oop and the other alligators out of their winter home in that building over there and transfer them to the pit. It was a big deal.”

As I reflect on that memory, I’m glad I had likely seen the family alligator in the days before Husband and I met. It made a special connection for me.

I also contemplate about a small boy with ADHD who possessed abundant interest in things of nature and in many other directions. I believe the gift was a logical idea and choice from his Dad. I know Husband no longer cares one way or another, but the memory from that extraordinary household is fun to share.