Who Cares If a Monkey Dies?
My family visited the Dallas Zoo upon many occasions—usually at least yearly—when I was a youngster, and we often went as a group of “church families” from our congregation on Day Street off Jim Miller Road. Our moms cooked up bags of unsalted, un-buttered popcorn to feed to the animals (allowed back then), and we took other snacks along to eat as a group at the picnic tables. “Truth be known,” we kids (and some of the sneaky adults) often ate quite a bit of the “animal popcorn” as we traversed the zoo grounds.