When an elephant meets a hippo

We spotted an elephant on the bank of a river - a river which coursed through a plain I had seen at the beginning of the rainy season the year before (above).

Then the elephant began to cross the river. "He's in for a surprise," I said, thinking of the crevice he would reach in the middle.

He was up to his knees.

He was up to his shoulders.

And soon, the river rippled over him.

But before he could reach the crevice, the elephant met a very different kind of surprise: somewhere below the surface, a hippo lay sleeping – gathering his energy to graze and fight and make a mess at night.

The hippo opened his mouth wide - less of a yawn than a threat display - and vocalized how he felt about being wakened.

But the elephant knows he has no natural predators - except humans, and only then with ammunition - and he wasn't spooked by the display. He trumpeted with his trunk, flapped his ears wide and made figure-eights with his tusks.

The hippo groaned and retreated, slipping under the currents before the confrontation escalated.

The elephant was nonplussed. He didn't look back - no scanning from side to side - he just continued across. That is, until his disappeared altogether.

"Can an elephant really swim?" I wondered. Or rather, is it really possible for an elephant to sink?

Then a trunk broke the surface, gathering air, and the elephant's head soon followed.

He stepped-up on the other end of the crevice and, with all his vegetarian might, pulled his body out of the water. His trunk soared and he announced his arrival to those on the other side.

And soon, he arrived: clean, cool and in control. Ready to take-on whomever he met on the other side.

Breaking news about Frank Sinatra

My housemate and I recently found a motherless, diarrhea-laden kitten who stole our hearts. We took him home, washed him and named him Frank Sinatra (because of his blue, blue eyes).

The name provided seemingly endless inevitable but nonetheless enjoyable clichés: he found us on the patio of a friends' house - a real "Stranger in the Night" who seemed to "Only Have Eyes for Us." He gave us a look which said: "I've Got You Under My Skin," and sure enough, we adopted him without much further debate. As they say, Fools Rush In.

Did I mention he enjoys Dancing Cheek to Cheek?

But after subsequent bathing and a couple weeks of growing around-the-clock, Frank Sinatra appears to be less of a Guy than a Doll. Not only that, but one of his eyes is turning green and (Sinatra fans may wish to stop reading here) he shows no interest in self-grooming at all.

So now we are trying to find a new name which fits. We flirted with Ginger Rodgers, because she loves dancing (or at least sliding across the floor). We also considered Nancy Sinatra, but she doesn't really seem the boots-were-made-for-walking type.

Name suggestions are encouraged. At the end of the day, she's high-maintenance but oh-so-lovable (some would say, "So Embraceable"), and no matter what we call her, They Can't Take that Away from Her.