One year ago
today, I received a text from one of my good friends, a keeper at the zoo,
revealing the bad news. As I read that text, I remembered the first time I met
you. Walking up to you, at first feeling a bit intimidated by your large size,
but quickly falling in love with that gentle beauty that you had. I remembered
the feeling of awe as I ran my hand over your fine, oily hair, as your rough
tongue began to lick me, as I looked into those big, gorgeous eyes for the
first time. A year ago today, I remembered that wonderful moment, and I cried.
I cried because I would never again walk past your exhibit and see you, never
again get licked by your long, rough tongue, never again look into your amazing
eyes.
I’m not sure
you really understood how important you were to me, but trust me, Chuma, you
were. Getting to know you was one of the greatest privileges of my life, and
certainly one I’ll never forget. You were so loved by so many people at the San
Antonio Zoo, and I hope we gave you the best life possible (I think we did). At
29 years old, you were believed to be the oldest okapi in the world. When
thinking about you (which I do every day), I always try to be happy that I was
lucky enough to get to know you, instead of being sad that you’re now gone. You
touched the lives of everyone that met you, were very beloved by the zoo guests
that saw you, and you were truly a great ambassador for your species. I will
never forget you, Chuma. I love you. Run free, you wonderful, beautiful animal…
This post’s
food for thought: “An animal's eyes have the power
to speak a great language." ― Martin Buber
