The Monkey’s Uncle Louis

Louis’s younger sister Anne had adopted a monkey, news she shared with him over the phone, her call waking him early on a Tuesday morning, on the first day of the fall semester. She wanted to know if he’d like to come to Florida to meet the monkey. It was a white-bellied capuchin, a female. She was very sweet-natured, smart, and funny. Anne sounded smitten, a little dazed, the happiest she’d sounded in a while.

“I suppose I could,” he said. “The first few weeks of the term aren’t too busy.” He could hear noises in the background, a series of beeps followed by laughter. “What’s her name?” he asked.

“We haven’t decided yet,” said Anne. “I’ll send you an e-mail with the names we’re considering.”

“All right. If you want to.”

“You’re not happy for us,” she said flatly.

“That’s not true. I am happy for you,” he said. “You sound good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Before they hung up he asked, “Is it legal to have a monkey in Florida? Don’t you need a permit or something?”

His sister hesitated, a sound escaping her throat that he’d been familiar with since childhood. She was trying not to cry. “Yes, of course. We have one, Louis. We’re not criminals.”

________

The e-mail with the proposed monkey names arrived that evening while he was eating dinner alone in an Olive Garden near his house. He only cooked on weekends when his wife was home. Nearly every Friday, she flew back to Chicago from Hartford where she worked as a hospital administrator, or he flew to her. They’d been making these trips for six of the nine years they’d been married. Louis was a tenured professor in American history at a college three miles from their house, and when Sandra was hired by the hospital in Hartford, they’d both agreed his job was too good to give up with its summers off and generous pension and periodic sabbaticals. They had a cat, Jules, but no children; Jules was Sandra’s cat and pre-dated Louis, although the cat lived in Chicago instead of Hartford. In the last year, Jules had developed diabetes, and in Sandra’s absence, it was Louis who administered the insulin shots, the cat submitting to them with disappointment on his owlish face. His disappointment was even plainer when he peered each morning into his food bowl: the vet had put him on a special diet, one with more protein but less flavor.

________

Dear Louis,

Here are the names we’re thinking about for our monkey. Can you rank them from 1 to 5, with 1 being your first choice and send them back to me?

Lucinda

Molly

Jeannie

Becky

Claire

Bill and I would love it if you’d come down the next weekend you’re free—what about Labor Day? If Sandra isn’t planning to be in Hartford that weekend, maybe she can come too.

Love, Anne

P.S. We are already so in love with our little monkey!

________

He had misgivings about his sister’s plan to make a home for a wild creature that was likely soon to bring its new keepers to their knees. What would happen if in the middle of the night the monkey escaped the house, and homesick for its native jungle, started screeching from the treetops and rattling neighbors’ doors and windows?

Online he found a video of a gang of capuchins chasing after four fawn-colored Chihuahuas, someone off-screen laughing maniacally. The Chihuahuas looked terrified, their eyes bulging even more than Louis thought was normal. The monkeys screamed and pogoed up and down when they overtook the horrified dogs.

Another video showed a tufted capuchin feverishly pulling socks and underwear out of a chest of drawers and flinging them over its shoulders.

________

Dear Anne,

Just curious, do monkeys like bananas as much as they say?

Of the names you sent, I think I like Lucinda the best, Claire...