Not that I’m aware of. However, there was that one giraffe, Gracie, who escaped in Texas. Fortunately she was found, weeks later. Then, someone took it upon themself to dig into the story.

"Sometime during the day on June 12, she “put on her rock climbing shoes,” said Johnson, and scampered across the cliff face to freedom.

"Gracie’s natural camouflage perfectly suited the area’s dense mix of cedars and brush.

"Then, fifteen days after her disappearance, Gracie was spotted, “fat and happy,” a few miles from her home—first on a neighboring ranch’s game camera and then by helicopter. So began the hard work of capturing and relocating her. As Johnson put it, “You don’t just push a giraffe into your pickup.”

"She was **lightly sedated from the air via tranquilizer dart. ** The team then attached a halter line, eye mask, muzzle, and earplugs (befitting her “rounded ears,” which became a fascination to those following online) and loaded her into the trailer, which was carefully towed by a Jeep through goat trails, rivers, and ravine crossings and under low-hanging branches cut by the team as they drove. Once loaded onto the main giraffe trailer, she made it back to Cedar Hollow, her odyssey complete.

“Jones called me the morning before with the news that Gracie’s owner had stepped in. This owner “has never told me how to run this ranch,” explained Jones, but when they heard a writer was coming out, they instructed Jones to proceed with “extreme caution,” seemingly due to the overwhelming attention recently heaped on Cedar Hollow.”

I admit I’m cherry-picking. But, still.

All I’m saying is that if I was Gracie, in that situation, I’d want the option. Being bagged and tagged in Texas, imprisoned in a place that heaps tragedies, held captive in a country not my own, one that deports its refugees with glee… yeah. No thanks. As a theee-year old giraffe I’d want out.

Even permanently.