Thursday, July 10, 2008

It was just today that I discovered Monkey Matters, but if my mom had found this site 20 years ago, my life might have been different. You see, when I was 3, my oldest brother (then 9) caught chicken pox and passed it on to me and my older brother (parenthetically, this is actually my earliest memory). My mother, therefore, was home alone with three boys under the age of 9. As a solution to this problem, my dad's friend suggested keeping a monkey for a while. I'm not exactly sure who owned this monkey, whether it was a zoo or the friend, but the fact was that a monkey came to stay at the Ahmads (not our family name).

It was loads of fun, I'm sure, though I don't remember most of it. I remember that we'd feed him plums (I think) and that he was very loud and made a terrible mess of everything. Ironically, the same forces that brought him to our house took him away as well: if caring for three male primates of varying intellects was difficult, adding a fourth primate to the mix was clearly a bad idea. I think the experiment lasted two weeks, though to be honest, I don't think we were going to get a pet monkey no matter what any putative website said. Still, I'm all for being groomed by a monkey and seeing what my rank is in a human-monkey hierarchy, as described in this article.

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