Because Kong (the first squirrel monkey) was an only child for awhile before my human son was born, he got a little lonely at times. (Although he did usually accompany me to the university for class and work, went along on most outings, and was quite a popular little guy.) At one point, I found a very lightweight baby rattle, a little yellow bunny rattle designed for easy lifting by infants. The weight factor was important as Kong himself was only a pound and a half. Kong was instantly enamored of the bunny, and they became fast friends. The bunny had to come along with Kong on outings. They had ongoing conversations with Kong chirping and the bunny clicking his response. It was a close and comforting relationship.
So, when Mo came along, we provided him with a similar rattle friend. Nope! Not a match! Ignored, tossed aside (poor bunny!) Mo preferred to spend his time interacting with the household menagerie of pets. One favorite sport was to hide in an armchair and wait for one of the dogs (Chickie or Schultz) to happen by, then pounce and startle. He like to thump the side of his cage to intimidate Gimpy, the otherwise dauntless cat, who would dive for cover behind a chair. Climbing drapes and jumping from curtain rod to curtain rod provide even more good entertainment. Mo was creative like that.
The middle child (the human) would share his toys with Kong early on, but he later came to be attracted to things that involved bouncing, wheels, and/or motors. (Hence, his eventual career as a motorcycle racer).
Years later, little sister Edith Anne was a different story. She loved hanging out with her human family (and did not seem to realize she was a tad furrier than the rest of us). When we gave her cute cuddly toys with faces, she drowned them in her water dish (which did concern us just a bit). We could not find the same little infant rattles that had befriended her older sibs (we think they were removed from the market because the lightweight plastic was fragile and provided a potential choking hazard if they broke). So we tried providing a variety of other types of rattles. All seemed to be heavier and unwieldy…or had faces and got drowned. Squeaky toys were more readily accepted. One strange little yellow squeaky duck seemed to be a particular favorite as Edie would drown him but then pull him back out and dry him off on her pink blankie. Eventually, though, the duck became a bit grungy and was cast aside. Yucky ducky!
Then came the jingle bell babies. Somehow Edith Anne came into possession of a little silver jingle bell, and it was love! It fit perfectly in her hand, was lightweight, and chirped back at mommy monkey with its tinkling little voice. So for most of her 28 years, Edie had at least one or two “bell babies” with her at all times. Because she had two hands, she could generally manage up to two babies at any moment. Three became a bit stressful, and more than that created a very frazzled little mommy monkey. She would have to tote them between her arm and her body and put them down and transport them one at a time if leaping from her room (aka cage) to the bed. While she was a loving mother to her bell babies, she just wasn’t cut out to provide bell baby day care. And we learned very quickly not to create the appearance of threatening a bell baby. (That straightpin-teeth issue again!) If Edie dropped a jingle bell and could reach it herself, it was safest to allow her to do so. (Auntie K, when watching her during one of our racing excursions, found this out the hard way as she tried to pick up a bell and was rather viciously nailed in the hand — much like my friend the Brussels sprout when Kong bit her because his human brother had pulled his tail. Reference earlier blog entries.) If we had to rescue a runaway bell, we had to act quickly and immediately toss it to her (she was a great catch!) Once she had retrieved the bell baby, she was assured of its safety and would be content to cuddle it and talk to it with no need for nipping. Fortunately, she generally left her bell babies lined up on her pink blankie when she came to bed with us at night. I hate to think what would have happened should a bell baby cry out (jingle) in the middle of the night and awaken Edith from a sound sleep. Ouch ouch ouch!!