In 1955-56 my family spent a school year in the Philippines. My father was on a sabbatical and taught at the University of the Philippines near Manila. My sister had just graduated from high school, my brother was 15 and I was turning 9.
Many animals in the Philippines were different from what I saw every day here in State College, Pennsylvania. Instead of tractors in the fields (or even horses like the Amish) the rice fields were being plowed by Carabao, or water buffalo.
Chickens were wandering near homes in our neighborhood and the roosters woke us up each morning. I remember my brother having fun fashioning a trap with a box, a stick attached to a long string, and some bait to try to catch a chicken. As I recall, he was successful, but the neighbors were not too happy. Of course, he had to let them go and the chickens continued to wander the neighborhood.
We were offered the opportunity to “adopt” a pet monkey while we were visiting in the Philippines. This monkey had been living at a nearby lab and was probably used in experiments…who knows (remember, this was 1956)! She was being “retired” and we could have her for a pet for a few months.
She lived outside our back door and was chained just like a dog. Her sleeping area was a box high off the porch. She had a bar to run across and could reach the ground with the chain on. She would leap off the bar and then climb back up the chain to her perch. My brother loved putting her on his shoulder and walking around the house.
When we were first introduced to this monkey in the living room, she looked so sweet. Her long arms could wrap around your neck like a big stuffed animal. I was sitting on the couch with my legs crossed and we watched her explore.
As she moved around, I uncrossed my legs and ACCIDENTLY bopped her on the head! She instantly leaped on me in anger and started pulling my hair! Yikes Not fun!
She finally calmed down, and everyone felt that she would be OK, I had just surprised her. From that day forward, she did not like me. She was smart and knew when I was around. I stayed out of her way!
Several times over the next few months, she would get loose and run to the roof of the house. It was hard to get her to come back. Soooo…Mary became the bait!
I would stand on the porch and call her. She would come running across the rooftop, jump onto my shoulders and start pulling my hair, screeching all the time. Mark would quickly grab her off of me and take her away.
Needless to say, I was not sorry to see her go back to the lab when we were getting ready to leave. My brother had a nice pet for a few months, but I don’t have fond memories of the animal. I hope she had a good life…someplace else!
I’ve been told that the memories that “stick” are ones with strong emotions attached…good or bad. I guess that’s why this one stuck with me all these years!
Please comment or email me directly at marykisner@comcast.net. Enjoy!