100 YEARS OLD AND STILL COUNTS TOES CAREFULLY...

GENERALLY speaking, I am an uncomplaining sort of person. I accept the limitations of others and usually let them go about their business without making a fuss. Sometimes however the matter is so vital that it would be remiss of me not to draw attention to an error.

One such occasion happened a few days ago when I visited the shop at the South Kensington Natural History Museum to make a specific purchase.

The item in question was a “sloth huggers soft toy” made by a company called Wild Republic. Sloths are always adorable and huggable but this one, through the simple addition of a piece of bendy metal in its arms, hugged back, which really caught my attention and admiration. Also, its size was perfect to attach it to one’s wrist as an all-day travelling companion.

As I took it to the counter to buy it, I noticed something. Before tendering my credit card, I therefore asked, “Is this a three-toed sloth or two-toed?”

The assistant examined it, showed me the feet, pointed to the three toes on each and confidently announced that it was three-toed.

“All sloths have three toes on their feet,” I said. “It’s the hands that differ in digit number. But this sloth appears to be wearing gloves which conceal the number of its fingers.”

“Oh,” she said, looking dismayed at her own ignorance, so I bought it anyway, to cheer her up. The matter of its toes however continued to worry me as I walked through the museum to the door. I therefore, as I approached the exit, decided to have a few words with a young lady museum employee who was conveniently placed for anyone seeking information.

“I fear I must draw attention to a fault,” I said. “It’s this sloth.” I waved the sloth at her. “Is it a three-toed sloth or two-toed? It’s the number of fingers that matter and this one’s are concealed by gloves. Ought you not to have two designs differing in toe number so customers may choose?” She peered at the sloth’s front limbs. “Two-toed sloths are less docile than three-toed,” I said. “Also rather larger, but this one is a reduced size replica so that doesn’t help.” “Well, she said, I suppose...” “If it’s two-toed,” I added, to help her decide, “it’s an example of either Linnaeus’s sloth or Hoffmann’s sloth. but if it’s three-toed, it could be palethroated, dark-throated, maned or a pygmy sloth, the last of which is highly endangered and is only found on the isle of Escudo off the Panama coast.”

“I think...” she began, but I had not finished.

“Three-toed sloths have very small tails,” I said. “Two-toed have no tails. Three-toed also have a significantly shorter gestation period and more bones in their neck which lets them bend their heads much further round.” “Oh, she said, that’s very...” “And there are more differences,” I added, fully prepared to list them.

“There’s a desk around the corner,” she said, “where you can leave a complaint if you wish.”

“I’m not the complaining sort,” I said with a smile and the sloth and I left. I think it’s three-toed. It’s very huggy.