Dear Diary,
Today is a good day. Why? You may ask. Well, today is World’s Giraffe Day, and that makes it as special like Christmas or Hanukkah for the Jews who pop in here once in a while. We did not have a secret Santa again this year, so disappointing. One would have thought that after nineteen years in the wild I’d get used to the way of the jungle, but no, every year I keep hoping that Santa would stop by with a stack of Lucerne grass.
Forgive my manners, “je’mappelle Betty, enchante!” ( I am using French cause introductions sound sexier in French) I am the oldest giraffe here at the giraffe centre. I look at some of the interns my age and can’t help but wonder why they are so full of life like I was at ten years. Now I can feel my knees getting weaker; my vision is not as sharp as it used to be, the air smells different each morning. If I could speak my speech would start to get a little slurry, but you know what, all this is justified because I, my friend, have lived longer than most of my cousins in the wild.
I like it here. They give us pellets and salt licks on a daily. But today I don’t feel particularly motivated to eat pellets and salt licks. I mean if I did, then what would make this day different from any other day. I have made peace with the fact that Santa is never going to pop up here, so the least my human friends can do is feed me a different treat.
I did have Rhus today, quite a delicious treat and not very common around here. I must say I was impressed by the rangers. So even when they hit their buckets of pellets calling unto us, I heeded. The day is almost coming to an end. I can see the sun setting leaving an orange layer of rays on the Ng’ong hills. It is a beautiful life, and I am happy. Tomorrow the cycle repeats itself but yet another opportunity to meet people from different walks of life at the platform.
Yours faithfully,
Betty, the giraffe.
