They found a shaded picnic spot near the flamingo pond. Jamie’s dad unpacked sandwiches while Nibbles sniffed around the table legs. “You’ve earned your lunch,” Jamie said, tearing off a piece of cheese for his puppy. “Just don’t wander, okay?” He unclipped the leash just for a moment.
It happened so fast. A loud clang—maybe a dropped tray or metal gate—and Nibbles bolted. Tail high, ears perked, chasing the sound like it was a toy. “Nibbles!” Jamie shouted, standing up so fast he knocked over his juice box. “Nibbles, come back!” But the little pup was gone.
Jamie ran in the direction Nibbles had disappeared. His dad called after him, but Jamie didn’t stop. He searched beneath benches, behind shrubs, near water fountains. He asked families, zookeepers, even a janitor. Nobody had seen a puppy. His heart beat louder than the peacocks nearby.
After twenty minutes, Jamie returned to the picnic spot, but Nibbles wasn’t there. His father was talking to a staff member with a walkie-talkie. “We’ve got teams looking,” the woman said. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.” But Jamie could see it in her eyes—worry was exactly what they were doing.