"Mischief"

by Kendra Lester

Part 4 - Mischief by any other name

I know many people object to monkeys being treated like human babies.   Trussed into baby diapers and cute, starched, frilly clothes; paraded around like elaborate circus freaks on public display.  But twenty years ago there was no firm rule book for raising children, much less one for raising a monkey in the home. In fact, when you watch the way they react to things like a loving hug with a hug in return, with anger when denied something, with jealous when having to share, it hard to not label them with human emotions and human wants and needs. When she sat and gazed at me with love and adoration in her eyes, when she threw those long spider arms around me, I felt many of the same emotions I had felt with my own young son, bonding my heart to hers in much the same way. Mother nature gave us the ability to love unequivocally.  That blessed ability to love is why so many people can foster or adopt children of a race not their own, or handicapped children.  To be able to take in and love the wounded souls in our society.  Mother nature in her gracious bestowing of  loving hearts, did not tell us to go forth and love only our own kind.  And like many before me and many after me, I fell helplessly in love with this non-human child. This free loving jungle monkey-child, gave as much love in return as she received.

So with electrifying anticipation we dove head-first into each new adventure with Mischief.   The world became such a breathtaking smorgasbord of experiences. Seeing the wonder in her sparkling chestnut eyes made me want to give her it all on a huge, silver platter. I tried to pace our adventures, l tried to take things slower, but if a new experience caused her to offer no objection it became an open-door invitation to try something else.

Having no other ruler to measure by, I pulled out that old mommy ruler again and decided if some human children love to be dressed up and strut their stuff in front of company, would a monkey kid love showing off? So next experiment, clothes, will she or won't she?  I tried gently handling her arms and legs, massaging them with my finger tips  to see how she responded. When she offered no resistance, I progressed to trying on her my son's old cloth diapers.  She didn't seem to care and when they got messy she would tug and pull on them, so diaper training was a breeze.  Next step was trying on my four-year-old son's outgrown clothes.  Yes, you heard me right, I broke one of the cardinal rules of monkdom, I brought a grown female monkey into my home, with a young child.  I would not have attempted to do that, if I had known what I know now. I can not make excuses for myself, except to say I sincerely didn't know any better. I took her in and loved her with honest, heart-felt emotions and good intentions. But I feel now, that mixing very young children with adult monkeys is not the wisest thing I could have done.  I feel I took unnecessary risks with my son's  life and took the further risk of my monkey being put down if she had bitten him. But I had no idea what a monkey attack could be like, no idea the damage those teeth could do in mere moments in anger or sometimes just pure jealousy.  I was a firm believer in the old saying that love could mend broken heart and I lived by this belief.  Thank God common sense still prevailed over youthful, fantasy, happy-ever-afters, for I never once left them alone, and the door to Mischief's room had a padlock on it. Common sense played an even further role in my mixing of the two, in that the darling  Ms. Mischief was never allowed out without a leash and my undivided supervision.

But I digress, we ventured into real clothing next and not once did she udder a protest.  Maybe someone had dressed her in her earlier life, because she was an absolute sweetie about it. Having a boy child and never dreaming we would progress this far, I was unprepared to dress a little girl monkey and so used the clothing at hand. Dressing Mischief in a pair of corduroy pants (rolled up of course) and a hooded sweatshirt.  She set there looking like a corduroy angel, the picture of childlike innocence.  The only visible objections I got from her highness, was 1) that my son was not allowed to play with whatever she had at the time or claimed as belonging to her, 2) nor could he sit on the same side of me as she was sitting. She would react with a bouncing, screaming fit.  These objections fits came in the form of loud, ear-splitting screams backed by impressively vivid facial expressions. In fact vivid enough that my young son, got the message and made the adjustments himself.  Even more impressive was the fact he never once protested Mischief having the older bully, sister position in the house.  In the early years with these few minor adjustments, we lived semi peacefully. Child, mother and monkey.

Day by day brought about the continued sharing of our wondrous human world and Mischief's continued lessons on monkey rules and monkey intelligence. In fact I had no idea the extent of a monkeys intelligence until one day I found that I had misplaced the padlock key to her cage, so I sat there frustrated, picking the lock with a  bobbie pin. A neat little trick my military father taught me years ago.  I knew she had her nosey, little eyes right down lock level, watching my every move, but after opening it,  I never gave the deed another thought. Then came the day I arrived  home from work and saw the curtains moving in my bay window.  A face appearing, then disappearing, the curtains fluttering gently, as though touched my dainty, fairy hands.   Wondering momentarily whose elfin face I had glimpsed at that window? Then I shook my head, sure that the vision I had witnessed only briefly was just that, a vision created by a tired mind.  Upon entering my home, that vision sprang to life in the form of one Ms. Mischief. Nonsensical, monkey chatter, greeted me at the door,  dressed as a workday princess in one of my suit jackets, sleeves dragging the ground. Her smug, little, ebony face wearing a kaleidoscope of makeup.  Some kind of horror-show harlot, made up with crooked lips and vivid colors.  I was almost beside myself holding my sides as I belly laughed at her charades. She danced around the room, one proud, joyful monkey. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then I should have be so flattered, for she was me. Though I was less than impressed when I got a good look at my bathroom and found she had made lip prints all over the mirror. And found that demons from hell had finger painted their graffiti all over my  porcelain sink and ivory, flocked walls.  But she was just so proud of herself I could not stay angry with the little imp, monkey laughing at me in the hall..  But I will admit I was puzzled at how she had gotten out, as I always double checked the cage door, before I left.  As I walked back down the hall, monkey maiden holding my hand tightly in her's. I thought back to the night before and  remembered her laying on her sleep pillow, her tiny hand tucked under it. Since that was her hiding place for treasures,  I had not thought too much about it, just thinking she had stolen another toy or some other little trinket and hidden it there.  But when I discovered a bobbie pin stuck in the lock and the lock picked, I also figured out the identify of her unknown treasure. I stood there amazed, thinking someone tell me, she had not taken, hidden and then plotted this escape? Please, tell me Ms. Houdini was not capable of planing a full out escapade such as this?  I was so immensely impressed that I could not even begin to punish her for her daring little escape, after all in the monkey world, she had to be a near genius.  Mischief the wonder monk!!!!!  What had I gotten myself into and what was I raising here? Now I had two geniuses to worry about, for my son had tested  with a 140 IQ at 3 and now my monkey girl seemed to be a budding prodigy herself.  Bring out those sunglasses, the future was even brighter, but this time make them rhinestone. After all class begets class, and we couldn't be seen as just ordinary folks with these two, could we?

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