One Sick Monkey

Update on our beloved Pogo

If you have been following this blog you may remember my 12/19/11 post on the little one foot tall organ grinder type monkey that visits our little run down mall during the Christmas and Easter seasons. He has a small booth across from either Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny, dresses appropriately and gets his picture taken with the unsuspecting youth and toddlers of the community. You may also remember that because I don't trust monkeys of any size I always make an effort to keep my distance. I cannot provide any formal studies to support my distrust but there is a lot of anecdotal evidence available.

To wit:

My daughter Becky and her family have a membership to the zoo in Milwaukee. Someone once told her that most of the bigger animals are kind of boring to observe, laying around all day as if they had nothing better to do, but if she wanted to upgrade her experience she should dress in khaki shorts and a blue shirt which is proper zoo keeper attire. The animals may think they will be fed and that perks their interest. Becky did as advised. The lions got up to pace their cage, the chimps went "Ooo Ooo Ooo and the hyenas laughed. The gorilla was just sitting there, head down on his massive chest, but when he glanced up and saw Becky he immediately charged the glass barrier and started pounding his fists against it.  Like for 5 minutes.  Strike one.

One of Becky's close friends married a guy from India. I know them both and get their updates on FB. They went to visit his family and one day Joanna posts that she was heading up the stairs to go to bed and a monkey was at the top of the stairs. It would do these mini chargers at her, not allowing her safe passage to her chambers.  Joanna called for her niece who got a stick and chased the monkey away. Was this a house pet who was acting like a guard dog? She never said but think about it this way. At night after you go to bed the guard dog will just lie there, sleeping but maybe with one ear perked up. A guard monkey is probably sneaking in your room, looking for a trinket so the next time you grab a stick it will hold up your bracelet and smirk back at you. Strike two.

Which brings us back to Pogo. It's mid December and I'm rounding the hallway at the mall, heading for our office, when I glance over and see Pogo, who spots me at the exact same time. I notice that Pogo does not look well. There is a little hunch to his already tiny frame, his eyes look glassy and he does not seem to have  as many teeth barred at me. I get to our office and mention this to Big John, another one of our examiners. Big John tells me, “Linda (our main office person) hates that monkey. She must be allergic to it because she always gets sick when he shows up.” Then Linda responds, “He smells.” Strike three.

Monkey dander. It must get worse when one ages, and how long do monkeys live anyway? The next day and thereafter I do not see Pogo. I'm guessing that the lady who owns him, who has made his little vests and hats to match hers, who gets out of the house two seasons of the year, will find it hard to adjust. Maybe she can have him stuffed. And really, who would know? Get your kid's picture in December with Pogo dressed in green, permanent smile on his face, sitting on their lap. Drop five bucks into his tiny tin cup and then go find a real mall which actually has goods people want to buy. Take care of the smell and I'm all for it.