Getting Hosed Down By An Elephant

And loving every minute of it! 

I got completely drenched the other day, after Donna, an elephant at our local zoo where I am lucky enough to volunteer, decided that I needed a good hosing down. 

I was delighted! 

Donna, at age 43, is one of our elder elephants at the local zoo where I volunteer. I have been volunteering there for over 10 years now and it is an absolute delight and privilege to be able to be in the presence of these sacred creatures, the African elephants. 

What I do in my volunteer position is observe them. For several hours at a time, recording their behavior, letting the zookeepers know if there is anything unusual that I see. We observe them to gather information, study their behavior, and learn if we need to adjust anything to improve their life at the zoo, and to see if they are ok. 

Donna, our remaining female elephant, is scheduled to be moved very soon (this month) to an elephant sanctuary in Tennessee. It looks beautiful from what I can see online. Two zookeepers and a vet will follow her on the trip there, which will take about 40 hours. The keepers have been working on training her to get into the air-conditioned trailer, and she is now doing well with that. I pray that all goes well. 

Why are we moving her? This past March, she lost her dear friend, Lisa. Lisa was another of our female elephants who had been friends with Donna for 33 years. They would sleep side by side every night, often reaching out and touching each other. When Donna would wake up while Lisa was still sleeping (Lisa liked to sleep a lot longer than Donna), Donna would stand guard beside her, sometimes resting her trunk on Lisa. 

Lisa was 46-year-old and had developed some medical conditions that affected her quality of life significantly. The decision was made to euthanize her several months ago. We all are still grieving the loss of this dear elephant. 

Donna lost her friend and companion.

She was upset for a while, not herself. Female elephants need to be with other female elephants. Males are more loners in the wild, but females are in herds. The staff at the zoo did not think it best for Donna to be alone. This sanctuary in Tennessee is a place where she can spend the rest of her life on their thousands of beautiful acres. Where she can roam with no guests visiting all the time, like her life at the zoo had been. Where she can be with other elephants. A retirement home for elephants if you will. 

As part of saying goodbye, the zookeepers are allowing the observer volunteers to spend a little one on one time with Donna, giving her treats. I had my time with her last week. I brought what I could carry up the steep hill to the elephant barn (watermelon, cantaloupe, pineapples) and I loved feeding her. Watching her take the melons from my hands and put them whole into her mouth with the juice pouring down was a delight that is indescribable. 

I ran out of both the treats that I brought, as well as a few more that the zookeeper gave me to hand to Donna. The keeper and I then talked, as I wanted to give her support for all that she has been through in her young life. As an elder, loss is more familiar to me. Not easy, but more familiar. My heart goes out to these young zookeepers. 

While we were talking, apparently Donna had an opinion about not getting any more treats from me, as well as not being attended to. Without either of us noticing, she filled her trunk with water and completely doused me. The keeper got wet as well, but I got drenched. Completely drenched. 

And I couldn’t stop giggling about it.

 I found it somehow reassuring. She was still Donna, after all, with her zest and spirit intact. She had opinions and needs and was not afraid to express them. And express them she did!

 I was pleased to see that she had her spunk intact. It gives me reassurance that she will survive the trip and make it just fine in Tennessee when she arrives. She will get through this. She will still be Donna.

Maybe I can remember that this is true for me as well. I am still me. I still have my spirit.

 I notice that I seem to have no problem speaking up these days when something upsets me. My own version of hosing down, if you will, although I think that Donna’s version may be more direct and to the point. Eloquent and elegant in its own way. 

We are elders, she and I. We have been aging together. 

I am considering moving to a retirement community as well within the next several years. But that doesn’t mean that I am not me anymore. I am still alive, still with my spirit intact (maybe even more so now that I have gotten to the age where others’ opinions are not nearly as important to me). I still am who I have always been, containing all that I have been. Like Donna. 

She inspires me. She is strong, and her will to live remains very much a part of her. 

And so it is with me. Although society may not see me as vital or productive (as society has defined it) because I am now an elder, I dare say that I feel more vital and alive and present than ever. Perhaps because I am on the final path, for however long I am graced to be alive. But I am still alive. Still feeling. Still loving and caring and giving. And still ready to hose down anyone who needs it. 

I will miss Donna, as will we all. We have loved her and have been her family for so long. My heart aches at the thought of her leaving, yet I also remind myself that we really do think that this will be the best thing for her. We hope that she will be happier there. 

 I may also need to leave this home that I have loved for all of these years for a place that better fits me and suits me as an elder. 

Aging. Learning we are still who we have always been. Remembering that we still have the life force within us. We may have to make some difficult decisions and moves as we figure out what is best for ourselves, for each other. We must deal with losses. A lot. 

In addition, we humans have the gift of the knowledge of our own mortality. A knowledge that is difficult and painful to contain at times. But, also a gift in helping us appreciate each moment more, knowing that there are a limited number of them left. 

 We still have the spark inside of us, until we are no longer here. 

But, for now, let’s raise our trunks in a toast to the spirit that lies within us all. Let’s trumpet when we can. And embrace each precious, glorious moment of being alive.