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Don't forget Jenny: what happens when a lonely elephant, unsuspecting city officials, and a group of vocal activists collide? My hometown turns into a zoo.

Article Excerpt
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If there's one thing I've learned living in Dallas for the past thirty years, it's that we're a very businesslike city. We're not big on civic unrest. Whenever something happens that you might think will get our blood boiling--like the FBI raiding the offices of city hall officials or the head of the Dallas school district announcing that he overspent his budget by at least $64 million we yawn and go back to work. We're busy. Very busy. And then along comes Jenny the elephant. For the past two decades, she has been the star of the Dallas Zoo. She is a magnificent creature, 10,500 pounds, with deep-set eyes and a cute little tail that swishes back and forth. On a typical day, she knocks around giant plastic balls, bangs a barrel filled with fruit, and sprays water at her handlers. She lilts one leg and then the other in exchange for treats. Still, it's hard not to feel a little heartbroken for the old gal. For one thing, Jenny has spent all those years living in a cramped, barren habitat totaling only a quarter of an acre. It consists of nothing more than a concrete barn, a measly patch of dirt, and a small concrete pool. Sometimes she looks utterly miserable. She sways on her front legs for hours, which some elephant experts say could indicate stress or frustration. She stares forlornly into the distance with her trunk thrown over a wall. Over the years, according to zoo records, she's rammed her head repeatedly into a wall and dug into her right rear foot with her tusk-"a sort of self-mutilation," one of the experts told me. Jenny seems to be, well, depressed.

Then, this past May, Jenny's companion, Keke, died from heart failure. After Keke collapsed, Jenny stood beside her for...