When the old keeper forgot one latch, the 400-pound silverback reached through the steel

eucalyptus leaves along the gravel.

“He isn’t the one doing anything wrong,” I said.

Tom closed his eyes. “I know.”

“He’s responding the only way he knows.”

“I know that too.”

I stood beside him and let the rain fill the silence. Advice is easy to resent when a person is already losing more than he can name, and Tom had never liked being managed. After continue reading …