It was the last thing you’d expect to find in a swimming pool. But there it was, standing in the shallow end, looking down at its feet, most likely confused by the way the light entering the water made its shapely legs look bent.

Hazel let out a long, shuddery sigh. She honestly thought Jim was screwing with her when she got the phone call at 5 am. He had been a real prick since she broke it off with him. She should never have gotten involved in the first place — you know, don’t shit where you eat — but his khaki uniform cupped his tight butt so nicely, and when they found themselves alone behind the lemur compound a few months ago, the next thing she knew her tongue was in his mouth.

“Lou’s loose.” She had been sure she misheard him. “Just take care of it, okay?”

So she’d hauled herself out of bed, thrown on yesterday’s uniform and headed out. And now she was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Hazel sighed again. The homeowners would want to know why there’s giraffe shit on their chaise lounge.