Reality Check
But as we headed toward the elephant house, something shifted in Mike’s demeanor. His shoulders tensed up, and his usual easy stride slowed to a crawl.
“Listen, Emily, I gotta level with you about our elephant situation. It’s… complicated.”
The exhibit itself was gorgeous—everything you’d want in a modern elephant habitat. Tons of space, a beautiful swimming area, and these amazing artificial rocks that provided perfect shade. The setup was world-class.
What I saw inside, though? That wasn’t what I’d been expecting at all.
There was Dumbo, huddled in the absolute farthest corner like he was trying to make himself invisible. The moment our footsteps echoed off the concrete, his whole body went rigid. Those small, wary eyes darted toward us for just a split second before he turned away and backed up even more.
“But… why?” The words came out as barely a whisper.
This wasn’t the elephant I’d seen in documentaries—those confident, curious, social animals that seemed to love interacting with people.
“He’s a circus rescue,” Mike said, his voice dropping low. “We don’t know all the details, but from what we pieced together, his early life was pretty brutal. Animal welfare folks saved him and brought him here about fifteen years ago. But he’s still…”
I watched Dumbo retreat to the farthest possible spot and sink down with his back to us, and I swear my heart just shattered.
