Month: October 2019

Kong was definitely a curious little fellow. He loved to explore, and he could be a bit manipulative in achieving his goals. One day in the sociology lab, he spotted the silver foil in a cigarette pack in the breast pocket of one of the grad students. (Back in those days, cigarettes generally came in packs rather than boxes.) Tobacco is bad for monkeys, so Mommy would not allow enough leash length to reach the pocket. (The student was sitting across the table from us.) Well, awhile after the cigarette pack had been, apparently, forgotten, Kong developed an intense fascination with a gooseneck study lamp that was attached to the table a ways down. He stared at it and tugged at his leash to get close enough to examine the lamp more closely. Little by little he inched his way there, and when he had gained enough slack in the leash to be able to reach out and touch the lamp, he vaulted 90 degrees to the right, straight onto the pocket with the cigarette pack. His little brain had managed to calculate the radius perfectly. It cost us a few knuckles to prevent his obtaining his tobacco prize!

Kong also enjoyed the occasional bug snack, so I had to be vigilant when we would be outdoors. I would be sitting in the grass and look down at Kong, perched on my knee, and find that him holding a huge spider and chowing down. Yikes!!! Not my fondest memories, as an arachniphobe.

Kong also loved to groom me and would spend quite a bit of time searching (futilely, I might add) for insects in my hair. He also enjoyed sitting on people’s chests and trying to pry open their lips. A fun little game. If he got the lips apart, he would then work on getting the teeth apart. Once he succeeded in that endeavor, he would peer in and study the uvula that hangs at the opening to the throat. Then…suddenly…a furry little arm would make a grab for said uvula. Fortunately, he never actually got hold of one, but he considered it good sport, all the same.

Here’s the thing: Kong was cute. Mr. Personality. Surrounded by friends and fans.

And then there was Mo.

A couple of years after Kong’s unfortunate demise (spilled baby food plums on a piece of woven fabric and tried to eat it off, thus choking, when we were not there to help him), we got Mo. Whereas Kong has cost $19.95 at the local discount store pet department, Mo was $25.95, the result of inflation. Mo, who we later realized was bigger than Kong had been as a baby, had most likely been netted from the rain forest, yanked away from his family and friends, and imported to the U.S., thus rather miffed at the tremendous disruption in his life. He was NOT Mr. Personality. Or Mr. Congeniality. Or Mr. Nice Guy. Mo tended to be a bit testy, pushy, domineering, and ornery.

More Mo Monkeyshines to come…….

Kong spent many of his days in the Sociology department of the university, tethered by his leash to the leg of a chair, chomping on his favorite snack (apples), and basking in the sun and the attention of staff and students. One day I returned from class to find an empty room, bits of apple peel, tangible evidence that there had recently been a monkey there, open windows….and no Kong. Panic!!! Oh, my goodness! My monkey is swinging through the trees of the university! How will I ever find him? I frantically began to run up and down the halls of the Sociology building and, when I got to the second floor, I spied the one of the professors (a large, booming man who terrified me with his powerful presence) walking down the hallway with what appeared to be a tail down his back. As I cautiously approached him from behind, I could see Kong peeking over his shoulder and little grubby monkey handprints all over the back of his white dress shirt. Relieved (and still terrified), I got close enough that Kong made a leap for Mommy, and the professor turned around and explained, “While you were gone, we had Kong on my desk, and he did a number on a memo from the university president, so I decided he was a very intelligent monkey who should be befriended and taken for a walk.” After that, the level of my intimidation decreased markedly. Months later, when I became pregnant, the professor would ask me whether I had been preparing Kong for sibling rivalry. After my son was born, the daily questions was “How’s Kong’s little brother?”

Kong and his little brother actually got along quite well. At home, Kong’s leash was tethered to a little red stool at one end of the dining room, and my son spent time in an old wood-slat playpen at the opposite end. The baby figured out how to stand up and yank on the playpen bars to hop it down the room toward Kong; then he would sit down and stick his feet out so the monkey could pull his socks off. After that was accomplished, he would share his baby bottle with Kong who would immediately bite off the nipples so he could finish the milk. We went through a plethora of baby bottle nipples!

One day when a friend was visiting, she was sitting on the sofa, and Kong was sitting next to her facing with back of the sofa and with his long tail hanging down over the front. (FYI, squirrel monkeys do not have prehensile tails, but they can use them for balance.) My son, being ever curious, crawled over the sofa, spotted the tail, pulled himself up on his knees and gave a very impressive yank! Kong made a complete 360-degree turn, and locked eyes with the baby. One could watch the mental processes as he thought “Baby!! Intense pain!! Can’t bite the baby!” at which point he turned 90 degrees to his left and inflicted a nasty hole in my friend’s hand. He knew she did not pull his tail. He knew exactly who did pull his tail. But he would NOT bite his little brother.

As mentioned above, Kong loved apples. Back in the “good old days”, health laws were not yet in place that prevented animals (for example, monkeys) from the premises. So Kong enjoyed shopping for groceries with me at a small local market where would could drop off the wash at the attached laundromat and get supplies for the week. He would happily ride on the handle of the cart as I gathered needed items. When we got to the produce department, Kong would spot the lovely red tomatoes (same color as apples, of course). Another FYI: squirrel monkeys weight about a pound and can sit in the palm of one’s hand. But they are long, lanky little beings who, when stretching out their arms and legs, can become 24 inches long or so. So Kong would spot the tomatoes, shoot out and grab one (the weight of which would pull him upside down, hanging by his feet), take one bite (“Ewww, tomato! Not apple! Heavy! Ewww!”) Splat!! Drops tomato! The dutiful little clerk would come with the mop and sweep up the floor. They never charged me for the tomatoes — because he was so cute, I guess. (Note: at the time I was young, quite poor, and not too bright about the social ramifications of having a monkey in a public place. He was, after all, my first child.)

I am pretty sure that Kong, to his credit, somehow never pooped in the grocery store. In fact, he was generally quite polite — except when scared (which made carrying a towel a requirement, since people tended to approach him, hands outstretched, asking, “Does he bite?” I would point out that anything with teeth has potential, but would ad that there was a better chance of being pooped upon. They would back up fairly quickly. Interestingly, my husband at the time believed that the way to train him not to poop on a person was to smack him. So, operating on that theory, he smacked Kong once for pooping on him. After that smack Kong took every opportunity when within a leash-length of his dad to poop on him…very deliberately! My potty training method consisted of putting Kong down while exclaiming “EEEWWWW!!” He quickly learned that pooping on a person resulted in social rejection, and he was very much a people person, so he learned how to lean out around someone to miss them entirely if the need would strike while he was being held by someone. He was very fond of riding on shoulders and cuddling.