Leapin' Leopards, page 1
The Magnificent Mulligans: Leapin’ Leopards
© 2023 Bill Myers. All rights reserved.
A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188
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ISBN 978-1-64607-111-1
ISBN 978-1-68428-552-5 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-68428-553-2 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-68428-551-8 (Apple)
Build: 2023-02-03 11:51:49 EPUB 3.0
For Jesse Florea,
whose commitment to kids over the decades is a stellar example for all of us.
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
—EPHESIANS 4:32
Contents
Chapter 1: Just for Starters
Chapter 2: Buckle In
Chapter 3: The Plot Sickens
Chapter 4: “Nice Kitty . . .”
Chapter 5: Betrayal!
Chapter 6: “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty . . .”
Chapter 7: A Call to Action
Chapter 8: As We Forgive Others
Chapter 9: Hector in Charge
Chapter 10: Fast-Talking
Chapter 11: A Too-Public Appearance
Chapter 12: Kindness Helps
Chapter 13: Arrival
Chapter 14: Leapin’ Leopards!
Chapter 15: Cheap Words
Chapter 16: To the Rescue! (Sort Of)
Chapter 17: Plans
Chapter 18: A New Arrival
Chapter 19: “Uh-oh!”
Chapter 20: Wrapping Up
Thoughts and Questions
1
Just for Starters
JANELLE WOKE UP, TERRIFIED. This wasn’t that unusual. Janelle was terrified over lots of stuff . . . spiders, hamsters, people. As a little girl, she once called 911 to report that her shadow was following her.
But this time she had a good reason to be frightened—because she heard something that sounded pretty scary.
K-CRASH . . . SLAM . . . K-BANG!
It sounded like the noises people might make when breaking into a house.
“Jessica!” she whispered to her twin sister, who was sleeping in the bunk above her.
No answer. Jessica was apparently too busy winning the World Series or Super Bowl or whatever championship she was dreaming about. I guess you could say she was a super jock.
“Jessica!” Janelle whispered. “Downstairs! A burglar!”
“That’s nice,” Jessica mumbled. “Put him in the penalty box with the other skaters.”
Janelle threw off her covers and leaped to the floor, quickly sliding her feet into her slippers. Who knows how many germs come out and sneak around the floor at night?
“Jessica!”
“Wha . . . what!?” Now her sister was awake. And she didn’t seem happy about it. How could she be happy when, just moments ago, she’d been climbing the podium to receive a gold medal? But she was awake.
“Downstairs,” Janelle whispered. “Listen!”
There was more
K-BANG, SLAM, and K-CRASH-ing
and then a little
K-TINKL-ing
thrown in at the end.
“A burglar!” Jessica whispered.
“That’s what I’ve been saying. Let’s get Dad!”
Jessica hopped down from the bed. She stopped. “Wait a minute. He’s in Sacramento. At that adoption agency.”
K-CRASH . . . SLAM . . . K-BANG
“Then Mom!” Janelle whispered. “She’ll know what to do!”
“Right!”
They started for the door—but not before Jessica grabbed her baseball bat by the dresser.
“What’s that for?” Janelle asked.
“With a batting average of .321, it doesn’t hurt to be ready.”
Janelle rolled her eyes.
They raced down the hall into their parents’ room, and Janelle switched on the light. “Mom!”
But Mom wasn’t there.
“The calving shed,” Jessica said. “Guinevere is giving birth, remember?”
“Oh, right. Now what do we do?” Janelle whispered.
Jessica turned back to the hallway. “It’s just you and me, kiddo.”
“What about Nick?” Janelle said. “Isn’t he the oldest and smartest?”
Jessica gave her sister a look, as if to say, “Seriously?”
“Right,” Janelle agreed. “It’s just you and me.”
Jessica tapped the bat against her hand and started down the hall. “Time for a little grand slam.”
“I don’t think that’s such a—”
“Come on!”
Welcome to a day in the life of the Mulligans, a crazy family with a bunch of cool kids—and a wild animal park they’re trying to run at the same time. I’ll be your tour guide through all of this wonderful weirdness. My name is Winona, and I’m a . . . Well, we’ll get to me in a minute. As Jessica and Janelle investigate what’s going on in the kitchen, let’s check in on Mom and see how she’s doing in the calving shed with Guinevere.
“This isn’t fair,” complained Hector. (When you think of Hector, think of a grumpy old man trapped in a ten-year-old’s body.)
Mom watched as Hector climbed the ladder with an armful of acacia branches. “If you’re going to be suspended three days for bullying,” she said, “then you’re going to make yourself useful around the park.”
“I wasn’t bullying.”
“Making fun of someone for having crooked teeth?”
“I just said I knew a good orthodontist.”
“Which you don’t.”
“It was funny.”
“Which it isn’t.”
“Everyone laughed.”
“Except him.”
Hector gave a heavy sigh (one of his specialties) as he dumped the branches in the feeding trough for Guinevere. The fourteen-foot-tall giraffe was slowly pacing the sawdust floor, ready to give birth.
“We’ve been up forever,” he complained. “How long is this going to take?”
“Last time it took several hours,” Mom said, keeping a careful eye on Guinevere.
“She’s done this before?” he asked as he started back down the ladder.
“Two years ago,” Mom said. “She lost that one, but this one is going to be different.”
“Even though the ultrasound shows the thing is deformed.”
“He’s not a thing, Hector. He’s a calf—a baby giraffe.”
“A deformed giraffe.”
“Yes, he may have some problems.”
“That’s what I said.”
She chose to ignore him and looked back to Guinevere. “Come on, girl,” she whispered. “You can do this. I know it hurts, but you can do it.”
“She’s in pain?” Hector asked. “She’s so quiet. People on TV always scream when they have kids.”
Mom motioned to the tall, stately animal walking past them. “Yes, giraffes handle pain differently.”
“And how do they handle sleep?” Hector asked, giving a healthy yawn to make his point.
“Believe it or not, many giraffes can get by on thirty minutes of sleep a day.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “And sometimes they even sleep standing up.”
Hector yawned again—and for good measure, threw in another one of his sighs.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” Mom said, pointing to the feeding trough. “And she’s eating a little. See?”
But the only thing Hector wanted to see was the inside of his closed eyelids. The truth was, he wasn’t very fond of animals. Actually, he wasn’t very fond of people, either—after the hard life he’d once lived on the streets of Bogota, Colombia. That’s where Dad first found him, chatting to a couple of tourists in excellent English. After Dad completed a lot of paperwork, he brought Hector home to live with us. He’d only been here a couple of weeks and, to be honest, none of us were sure he’d fit in. But that never stopped Mom and Dad from trying, reaching out. That was kind of their specialty.
“See anything?” Janelle whispered as Jessica peered around the kitchen corner.
“Too dark,” Jessica said. “Sounds like the burglar’s . . . in the cupboard?”
“Maybe he’s just looking for food?” Janelle whispered hopefully.
“You don’t break into someone’s house to look for food.”
“We need a plan,” Janelle said.
Jessica patted her bat. “We’ve got a plan.”
“I’m not so sure that’s—”
“We count to three, turn on the lights, and I’ll run in swinging.”
“That’s really not such a—”
“One . . .”
“I don’t think—”
“Two . . .”
“Jessica . . .”
Suddenly, someone screamed.
HAI! Hoo-Yaaa!
HAI-YAAAAAaaah!
Which, of course, caused the girls to scream:
AHHHHHH!
But only for a moment, until Jessica got to the lights and flipped them on.
In front of them was their sixteen-year-old brother, Nick, in shorts and a T-shirt, kicking, spinning, and throwing punches at imaginary foes.
“Nick . . . ,” Janelle cried. “What are you doing?”
Coming to a stop, Nick looked around and lowered his fists. “Karate,” he answered calmly. “Mixed with a little kung fu, jiujitsu, and wonton.”
“Isn’t wonton a kind of soup?” Janelle asked.
“You don’t know any of those things,” Jessica said.
“Well, I watch a lot of movies,” Nick said.
Janelle looked cautiously around the kitchen. “Where’d the burglar go?”
Stretching his neck from side to side and then giving a little flex, Nick answered, “Looks like I scared him off.”
“Good point,” Jessica said. “Crazy scares lots of people.”
Janelle looked around at the kitchen cabinets, and then the counters, and then the sink. Everywhere there were dozens of cans, ripped food boxes, and destroyed baking goods—all covered in a thin layer of white from the ten-pound, torn-open bag of flour.
“Ah, there we go,” Jessica said.
“What?” Nick asked.
She pointed to the cupboard above the sink. Two raccoons sat huddled together, covered in white flour and looking very much like powdered doughnuts. Only their little masked eyes were visible as they stared down at the kids, blinking innocently.
“Rocky and Roxie,” Janelle scolded. “How’d you guys get out?”
Jessica turned to Nick. “Isn’t this your week to check their pens?”
“Crafty little fellas,” Nick said, changing the subject. “They sure are smart.”
Jessica agreed. “More than their human caretaker.”
“Right,” Nick said. “More than their . . . Wait, what?”
There was no need to answer.
With heavy sighs, all three dug in and began cleaning up the mess.
2
Buckle In
“NICK!” LISA SHOUTED FROM THE KITCHEN for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Breakfast!”
“I’m coming!” he called back. But we all knew he wasn’t—not when there was the slightest chance one of his hairs was out of place. Of course, being late wasn’t entirely his fault. With so many kids in the family and only one bathroom, the last one up in the morning might not get a turn until noon. And with Nick’s concern over his looks, it’s a wonder he wasn’t in there until dinner.
From the table, the rest of us watched Lisa expertly scoop the fried eggs off the griddle and onto a platter—with not a single yoke broken. Pretty good for a fourteen-year-old. Even better considering she is blind.
Lisa never thought being blind was a problem. It was more like an opportunity. Which is why she got so good at music, and school, and tons of other stuff—like cooking breakfast when Mom is out helping deliver baby giraffes.
“How’s Guinevere?” Jessica asked, plopping down in her chair and grabbing some toast and jelly.
Lisa answered, “She’s having a rough go of it.”
“But we prayed,” Julie said. “So she’ll be fine, right?” Julie is the baby of the family, although she’s not really a baby anymore since she’s five. She’s also cute, which means she’s learned the fine art of looking sweet and innocent to get whatever she wants—which this morning means avoiding the banana half Lisa had given her as part of her breakfast.
“Praying is important,” Lisa said. “And sometimes God grants our requests. But sometimes He has better things planned.”
“That’s right,” nine-year-old Stephie said as she reached over to adjust my director’s beret, then straighten my scarf and sunglasses. Stephie and I are best friends. It doesn’t bother me that doctors say she’s “on the spectrum”—whatever that means—and it doesn’t bother her that people say I’m a chimpanzee.
(Oh, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention that little detail.)
Anyway, Lisa turned from the stove and began dishing up the eggs onto our plates. “Nick!” she called again. “Get down here!”
“Soon as I’m done!” he shouted—which everyone knew could mean sometime after Christmas.
“I say let him starve,” Jessica said.
“Not if he’s driving us to school,” Lisa said.
“He’s what!?” Jessica and Janelle exclaimed in unison.
Lisa answered, “Dad’s gone, and Mom and Hector are still out with Guinevere.”
“Oh, brother,” little Julie sighed.
“Do we have life insurance?” Stephie asked.
“Actually,” Jessica said, “Janelle and I are cool with Nick driving.”
“Why?” Stephie asked.
Jessica explained, “All the girls at school love him. Especially that Chloe chick.”
Pretending to swoon, Janelle said, “She thinks he’s sooo dreeeeamy.”
“They see us stepping out of Nick’s car, and we’ll score some big points,” Jessica said.
Janelle nodded. “We’ll finally get them to believe Nick is our brother.”
“They don’t believe he’s your brother?” Lisa asked. “Why, because you two are black and he’s white?”
The girls shrugged.
“How stupid,” Julie said.
“Sweetheart,” Lisa said as she turned back to the stove to get the hash browns, “we don’t call people stupid.”
“But—”
Jessica patted Julie’s hand. “We call them intellectually challenged.”
Everyone agreed and returned to eating.
“Stephie,” Lisa said, her back toward us. “You know the rules. No animals at the table.”
“Animals?” Stephie asked innocently.
I sat up taller in the chair, doing my best imitation of a human being.
Lisa shook her head. “Sorry, Winona,” she said to me.
Lisa is good. She might also be a little jealous because her favorite animal, Freda the leopard, doesn’t like eating with the family. Good thing, too, because Freda’s table manners are awful—especially when she’s trying to eat me.
Stephie tried arguing. “But Winona’s adopted, just like us.”
“No sale, kiddo,” Lisa said.
Stephie took a deep breath and, for a nine-year-old, gave a very grown-up sigh.
Hoping it would do some good, I threw in my best whimper. But it didn’t work. I’m not sure why, except they somehow think I’m not as cute as Julie. (I know, crazy, right?)
“Sorry, girl,” Stephie said.
I gave another whimper, more pathetic than the last, but no one was buying it.
Finally, with a heavy heart, I climbed down from the chair. That’s when Julie secretly offered me her banana. I stole a look at Lisa and reached for it.
“And don’t give Winona your banana,” Lisa said. “That is yours, and I expect you to eat all of it.”
Reluctantly, I gave up the banana and sadly waddled toward the door.
Like I said, Lisa is good.
“This is taking forever,” Hector complained.
“Give her time,” Mom said. She tried to sound positive, but Hector could see the concern on her face.
Suddenly, they heard a loud
K-SPLASH
and spun around to see a flood of water pouring out of Guinevere.
“Oh, gross,” Hector said. “She’s peeing all over the floor.”
“That’s not urine,” Mom said, her voice growing in excitement. “Her water has broken.”
“Her what?”
