An excerpt from ELEPHANTS IN MY ROOM, chapter "Nein Ferdinand"

​We were just seven (me) and eight years old (Beluga), and we were to spend a summer dangling on flimsy hammocks, inches from a dense soup of Amazonian critters. Were we concerned? Nope. Why? Because Casa de Bischoff had an un-chlorinated pool, an ample assortment of tarantulas to tango with, and a transnational German shepherd who went by the name of Ferdinand.