"Oh my God, why is Barry so heavy?" After George and Mrs. Stacy managed to hoist the large gray bag into the back seat, she rubbed her sore hands and commented with amusement.
Looking at Barry, so small and cute, one wouldn't expect him to weigh like a solid shot put.
"He wasn't this heavy when he first arrived. He's put on quite a bit of weight recently. I thought I was just getting weaker," George chuckled in response.
With that, they settled into their seats, George taking the wheel and Mrs. Stacy in the passenger seat. Gwen and Little John flanked the big gray bag in the back.
The car eased out of the Wall apartment parking lot. As they left Queens, traffic thinned, and urban high-rises gave way to lush greenery.
"Alright, Barry, you can come out now," Gwen said after they had left the bustling city behind. Sparse vehicles passed by, and the landscape was increasingly verdant.
Unzipping the bag, a panda's head popped out. Barry surveyed the surroundings through the window before climbing out completely.
"Be careful," Gwen advised, folding the large bag behind Barry to give him room to sit.
Mrs. Stacy turned in her seat to say, "Hold on tight, Barry. When we pass other cars, try to stay hidden. If someone spots a panda in our car, it could be troublesome."
George glanced at the rearview mirror and quipped, "Feels like we're smuggling Barry away from home."
"No choice. If word gets out that Barry's staying with us, we'll be swamped with reporters and panda enthusiasts," Mrs. Stacy shrugged, imagining the frenzy such news would spark.
"If Barry were to join the police force, imagine the sensation!" George speculated.
"I hope things stay as they are," Gwen said, massaging Barry's shoulders.
"That's unlikely. The mayor won't keep a treasure like Barry hidden away," George mused. "It's part of the trade-off for the freedom he wants."
Even with high intelligence, pandas are still bears. Living among humans requires the mayor to shoulder significant responsibility.
However, because they're pandas, people are more accepting than they would be of other wild animals.
Especially in a country focused on political correctness and diverse identities, pandas have a unique appeal.
What? You think pandas can't be cops? Must be zoo-bound?
With the right advocacy, organizations focused on animal rights, veganism, and environmental causes would certainly rally support.
Discrimination!
As for real safety concerns, few actually care.
---
After about half an hour, they reached Oak Ridge in Manhattan, New York.
Through the car window, the landscape transformed into a tapestry of dark red hues.
Oak branches stood sturdy and graceful, their leaves turning crimson in autumn, a striking reddish-copper as they cooled.
Mrs. Stacy, a fall enthusiast, loved the vibrant red oaks, making Oak Ridge a regular autumn destination.
George parked in a quiet, open area near a lake, perfect for fishing.
Barry leapt from the car, feeling the soft crunch of fallen leaves and acorns beneath his paws. The oak trees, neither too dense nor sparse, stood majestic under the warm sun, their crimson leaves highlighting their elegant contours.
Squirrels darted through the branches, gathering acorns for winter.
"Alright, let's clear these leaves, set up the tent, and lay out the mats," George said, pulling a large bag from the trunk. The family set to work.
Barry joined in, sweeping away leaves and acorns to reveal a spacious area by the lake.
Then came the tent, the barbecue grill, and the fire.
Soon, white smoke curled up from the oak grove as Mrs. Stacy oiled skewered squid and other delicacies for the grill.
Gwen set out desserts on the tablecloth, and they began sampling treats with Barry.
After their busy setup, the family gathered around Barry to enjoy lunch.
---
Once they had eaten and cleaned up, it was time for recreation.
"Who wants to go fishing?" George asked, retrieving a rod from the car.
Hearing the word 'fishing,' Barry, who had been dodging Little John's sticky fingers, became intrigued and hurried over.
"You want to fish?" George asked, surprised by Barry's eagerness.
Barry nodded. Freshly caught fish always tasted better grilled.
"Alright, I'll find you a rod and teach you how to fish," George said, fetching the rod initially meant for Little John.
Barry followed George to the lake, skillfully casting his line. The float bobbed gently on the water's surface.
George, who had planned to teach him, was taken aback and sheepishly returned to his own spot.
In the past, George might have been shocked, but he had grown accustomed to seeing Barry as more than just an animal.
---
But Barry's leisurely fishing soon turned frustrating.
"Another big one! We'll feast on grilled fish tonight and have plenty to take home," George exclaimed, reeling in a plump perch, adding it to the bucket already teeming with fish.
Meanwhile, Barry's bucket contained only clear lake water.
Watching the float drift while a carp eyed him lazily from below...
Where was the beginner's luck?
Frustrated, Barry threw down his rod and leapt into the lake. The water erupted like a bomb, leaving a deep crater.
"Bang!" Water sprayed everywhere, forming a shimmering curtain.
George, seated in his folding chair, turned quickly, startled by the commotion.
EXTRA CHAPTER IS AVAILABLE IN PATREON
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