Etwart has a good life as the only pygmy Cypriot hippopotamus in the world-famous San Diego Zoo. But every day he wakes up with a hole in his heart. He wants to know the story of his family and the deeds of his forehippos-- maybe even find some of his relatives. So with his friend junior zookeeper Katterly Meadows he sets out on a journey of discovery.
Read the whole story from I-VI in order.
"We will soon be touching down in Cyprus," said the captain of Cyprus Airways Flight 337, "the home of the last divided capitol in the world, Nicosia. Turkish troops still occupy more than one-third of the territory of the Republic of Cyprus, and..."
Katterly Meadows, 13-year old Mediterranean Small Mammal Care Summer Intern I, would have listened more closely to the history lesson-- the first one she'd ever heard from an airline pilot-- but she was more concerned about Etwart.
Getting the grant to come to Cyprus and study wetlands habitat had been a cinch compared to the logistics of moving a pygmy hippopotamus 6,000 miles from the San Diego Zoo to the eastern Mediterranean. The less said about that, the better. Now they were almost to their destination, and Etwart was in a cage in the pressurized cargo area.
The cage was specially designed to mist Etwart every twenty minutes or so in order to keep his tender skin from dehydrating. But when they'd touched down in Athens to change planes, Kat had noticed the device was malfunctioning. The water gauge showed the mister was only working about half the time.
"How do you feel?" Kat asked Etwart.
"Thwoat dwy," he managed. She misted him by hand and fed him a jug of cabbage water, but that was all she had time for before he was loaded on to the Cyprus flight.
"Don't worry," said a baggage handler. "Cyprus has the best-paid pilots in the world. No problems for you."
On the tarmac it was sunny and breezy and the Mediterranean stretched out on three sides, silver-blue. Kat breathed in sea air along with jet fuel fumes as they brought Etwart down a conveyer.
"Gonna be oh-kay," he told her, but she could tell he wasn't right.
A pretty woman in her thirties hustled across the tarmac in sandals and a fashionable dress. It was Ioli, the representative from the Full Bite Biology Commission. She had wise eyes and a welcoming smile. "So glad to see you!" she cried, and hugged Katterly just like her mom would've. "Where is your guardian?"
Kat pointed at Etwart.
"A hippo?" Ioli stared in disbelief, then glanced at her clipboard. "Now I see. Etwart Hippopotamaki. And I thought you were bringing someone Greek."
"AM Gweek," Etwart mumbled. "Cypweeot hippo."
"Can we get him to the hotel?" Kat asked. "He's really dehydrated."
Ioli took charge. She cancelled the taxi waiting for them and ordered a mini-bus. Etwart clambered in
with the last of his strength, and they whisked him to the city of Limassol, where they were staying in a beachfront hotel.
Kat didn't have time to admire the view from her bedroom window. They got Etwart into a bathtub and ran cool water all over him. As a pygmy hippopotamus, he was just small enough for the tub.
Ioli said, "I have just the thing for him."
She was gone just ten minutes, and when she came back she had a bag of oranges. They peeled these and fed them by hand to Etwart.
After a little snout-stroking, he was as good as new.
"Don't you think we should begin our research, Kat?" Etwart said. "Where's the nearest river bottom?"
"You've had a big day," Kat said. "Rest now."
"Yes, rest, hippopotamaki mou," Ioli said. "You have to have your strength to take care of this little one. You're her guardian, you know."
Etwart bellowed with hippo-laughter. "Can we have a pancake breakfast tomorrow, Miss Ee-oh-lee? With more of that good orange juice?"
"Of course," said Ioli. "This is Cyprus. You can have whatever you want."
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