CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND PETTING ZOOS
Added 2025-04-01 08:00:06 +0000 UTCThe petting zoo was lively, filled with the laughter of children, animalistic sounds, and the occasional rustle of straw underfoot. Small enclosures housed a variety of animals—sheep, rabbits, an overeager pony, and a particularly disgruntled-looking llama that seemed to be judging everyone.
Contessa stood at the entrance, observing. Some children hesitated before approaching the animals, needing encouragement to offer handfuls of feed and reach out to pet soft wool and velvety noses. Others dove in without fear, delighted by the simple act of touch.
She stepped forward.
A small goat trotted up to her, pausing expectantly. It tilted its head, staring up at her. Waiting.
She examined it. No immediate utility. Not a work animal. Not a resource. And yet, it remained in place, patient.
Nearby, a child giggled as a rabbit nuzzled their outstretched hand. “It’s so soft!”
Contessa considered this. She extended her own hand.
The goat licked her palm.
She frowned. The sensation was… unusual. Warm. Slightly rough. The goat nudged her hand again, insistent.
She glanced at a nearby sign. Please be gentle!
Carefully, she ran her fingers over the goat’s head. It leaned into her touch, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
A child watching nearby grinned. “He likes you!”
Contessa withdrew her hand. The goat blinked at her, unconcerned.
She gave it another pat. A little slower this time.
The child giggled.
The goat bleated.
Contessa exhaled. This is… acceptable.
