Page 21 of Que Será, Syrah

“Why? What does a rhinoceros have to do with making wine?”

“I don’t think it does. I think they have a partnership with a winery in South Africa. Maybe they did an exchange and sent them some longhorns. Are longhorns endangered?”

“They’re domestic,” Bianca tells me. “So probably not. But aren’t we getting off topic? What does any of this have to do with us?”

“I just think it could be cool if we did something like that.”

“We are not getting a rhinoceros,” Rosa says firmly.

“I didn’t mean we should get a rhino—exactly. After all, that’s already been done. I was thinking something native to here.”

“Like what?” Rosa presses. “Raccoons? Deer?”

“No!” Bianca’s mouth drops open. She glares at Rosa. “Deer? Are you kidding?”

“Oh, right,” Rosa nods. “Never mind. Bad idea.”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of wild mustangs,” I tell them. “They’re picturesque, American…”

“They’re not exactly native to Napa,” Rosa says. “So, I’m not getting the connection.”

“I don’t know, but they have some in Golden Gate Park, so there must be something.”

“Strictly speaking,” Bianca points out, “Horses aren’t even native to the Americas.”

“Bison?” I throw out in desperation.

“Also, not native to Napa,” Rosa replies.

“I just want to tell you both that I am categorically opposed to the idea of our intentionally bringing any large, voracious herbivores onto the property,” Bianca says suddenly. “I don’t care where they’re from. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling frustrated. “You know what? Maybe it doesn’t even have to be wildlife. Or herbivores. How about a dog rescue?”

“Why?” Bianca whines.

“What kind of dog rescue?” Rosa wants to know.

“Okay, d’you remember that TV show from a few years back,” I ask. “The one that had ex-cons caring for pit bulls? What if we?—”

“In Napa?” They say in tandem, not even letting me finish the thought.

“So, I guess that’s a no?”

“Look, people come here to indulge themselves,” Rosa points out. “To get spoiled. Not to think about unpleasant facts of life. I think a doggie day spa would be a much better fit. People could drop their dogs off while they’re drinking wine, give their pups a chance to get out of the Teslas for a while.”

“Why Teslas?” I ask, getting distracted.

“They have a dog setting,” Rosa replies with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Have you never seen one? You can roll up your windows and walk away and the car will manage the AC to keep the doggos comfortable.”

“That is cool,” Bianca says. “No pun intended, but how much space will something like that take up? I don’t know how big that Texas winery you were talking about is, Legs, but we’re a very small winery. We need all the real estate we can get for the vines. I don’t see how we can afford to give up the kind of space that a nature preserve, or a dog spa, or a petting zoo would require.”

“Petting zoo?” Rosa frowns at her. “Who suggested that?”

“Oh, you don’t think she was about to?” Bianca replies. “Please.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. Scratch all the domestic animals then, too. Maybe we could do something with birds—they’re already here, so that wouldn’t take up any space at all.”

“Birds are as bad as deer, aren’t they?” Rosa asks.

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