RANSVESTIA

seen the way I'd looked at it. It was a brown wig, with blonde streaks, just the way I'd have my hair if I could afford it every week. In fact, the way I used to have it before I finally gave up hospitals and shift- work for the soft touch and low pay of the doctor's office.

Valerie suggested I add liner and mascara beneath my eyes and I was surprised how instantly my eyes seemed to stand out. I guessed that with all her modelling it was natural for her to know more about make-up than me-but it sure rankled that a man would be able to show me how to be prettier, particularly one who'd lent me his wig. With the way Valerie was looking, I dressed pretty smartly for a Sunday morning outing, but, of course, I was like a moth to a butterfly compared to Valerie. Her chocolate-brown coat with orange and white buttons was spectacular with the honey-blonde hair floating over her shoulders. I guess I was smarter than I usually was but I sure felt dawdy beside her.

We went to the zoological gardens. It was still fairly chilly that early in the morning though the sun shone brightly through the skele- tons of the poplar trees that lined the walks. Most of the leaves had already disappeared from the paths as well as the trees. I was sur prised by the numbers of people walking about, and particularly by the number of men. We were whistled at several times as we strolled down to the bear pits, where Valerie wanted to go in particular. I was surprised again by the number of people whom she knew that worked in the place. She spoke to several of the keepers by name. We stopped finally to look down into the great concrete compound which housed the brown bears, avoiding the "come-hither" looks we get from several guys. Pines and other kinds of conifers gave the concrete and rock slabs a kind of wilderness look. Valerie was staring intently at several of the largest bears, two blacks and a cinnamon.

"The older cubs are penned off now," she said. "So they've let Benny, the black with the chewed ear, back into the pen." Her face was fierce and brooding, the first time I'd seen deep emotion there. "She wasn't a good mother, I'm afraid. She killed one of her own cubs. Bit him to death. They won't breed her again." There was such a note of sadness in her voice then that I felt sure that Valerie was relating this to something in her own life. But I couldn't be sure if she felt most sorry for Bonny or for the unfortunate cubs.

Suddenly she broke off. "I'm hungry," she said. "Let's get a hot

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