It is hot. Sweltering hot. We have lost the offshore breeze and are more inland.

After we check into our small hotel, I am chomping at the bit to go to Cango Wildlife Park. We wonder if we are too late. Nope. I head directly to the cheetah enclosure. They let me in. There are two cheetahs. Their names are Josh and Jordan. They are sleek. Built for speed, not for strength. Their coats are exquisite. I am fearless, petting them, realizing that they had to stay where they were–they were far too big to fit in my bag.

A cheetah can get up 120-140 km/h and can get up to 70 km/h in 2 seconds. Marc pointed out that even the fastest cars have a hard time doing that.

The park is closing. I start to panic. My animal-loving self is far from done, despite seeing white tigers, lions, and petting the cheetahs, I don’t want to go.

Even when I went in to love up Josh and Jordan, the guy kept saying ‘ok’, to get me to exit the cheetah enclosure. Really? You need to be more direct than that. I need to hear–lady, move your ass–to get me out of there. It is time to get out now. Repeating ‘ok’ let me know, he wanted me to go, but sorry, I am petting CHEETAHS. Be direct or else I’ll never leave. Finally he kicked me out.

The guy who let me in the cage told us that if we keep our tickets, we will be let in for free tomorrow. Marc had already promised me that we could come back. I am too happy here. I want to work here.

We go out for an ostrich dinner. We have a really nice bottle of wine, then another one and I feel the need to start IM-ing which is the equivalent of drunk dialing and leaving a trashed message. Kristi got the best message. I forgot who I was IM-ing mid way and thought I was messaging Lisa–my father’s receptionist who BTW changed her online moniker and I sent her a message thinking it was Kelly. Kristi’s IM-ing was full of typos and a request to show a cheetah picture to my father. Kristi wanted to know how wasted I was when I wrote this. I didn’t think THAT wasted…

The next morning we are gutted. It starts raining hard. Oh no. We shuffle our plans for the day and go to famous Oudtshoorn caves. The caves are lime stone caves that are really fantastic. We get pretty far in and our guide tells us that they used to have concerts there but had to stop as people were breaking off parts of the formations to take home as decorations and souvenirs. He wants to who will sing. It was silent for a second. Finally I raise my hand and simply say–I’ll do it. Marc has no idea what song I have up my sleeve. It was so obvious. I break out and sing with gusto a rendition of O’Canada which my countrymen would be proud of. Of course I sing the entire anthem and finish to a loud round of applause.

After the cave tour (we didn’t do the adventure tour because you had to crawl on your belly for large portions and there actual replicas of the various tiny openings which made me quickly think of Pooh Bear in the rabbit hole). We went back to the animal park. This time we take a guided tour and all I want to do it go to the nursery and get my hands on a baby cheetah.

There are a bunch of baby cheetahs who are smaller than one of my parents’ cats–Bear. They are adorable, but everyone on tour thinks so and there is a queue.

To manage our time effectively we go to the newly open crocodile feature. Marc changes into a swim suit and gets in a cage. The cage is on a mechanical hoist and they lower him down into the crocodile infested water. I have zero interest in doing this and am the photographer. One of crocs takes a big snap at him. The female wants to eat him for lunch and begins to circle the cage. A different crocodile knows how to unlock the cage but thankfully can’t manage both locks at the same time. When he gets out, there is a camera crew, and next thing I know Marc is being interviewed for TV about the crocodile dive. Only Marc.

We go back to see the baby cheetahs and everyone is gone. They are beyond delicious. We have the same guy from the day before letting us in. I go first. You have to approach the babies slowly. Any sudden movement startles them and they hiss–just like a regular cat. There are seven of them. I am loving them up, kissing them, plotting on how I am going to get one out of the park without being caught. Marc joins me and we are both going absolutely crazy over their cuteness. Marc has a turn and they start saying ‘ok’ again. I had already explained to Marc that ‘ok’ means you’re done, but ignore it until they say ‘get out’. We used that method again. They eventually said get out.

The plan was to go to an ostrich farm. Oudtshoorn is famous for their ostriches. Eat them? Done. Ride them? On the list. Sadly (perhaps fortunately) the farm got rained out. Maybe it was a good thing. Ostrich riding–an animal who runs on two legs might have spelt trouble. At least it is giving us a solid reason to go back…

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