Mary’s family have a pet monkey called Moy Moy. An aggressive little bugger, very territorial and hater of women it seems. So when you first meet him he’s all screeching and jumping off his pole, trying to bite (in fact he did bite Mary), trying to scratch.
Nasty little shit thought I. But look at this little cute face - dear me. Surely the relationship could only get better.
Still very cautious and at arms length here. Little bugger still very "bitey".
But then we had one of the lazy fiesta days, loads of family and friends over – I sat in the shade with him and an icy cold local beverage, eating Mary's Dad's pork chops (oh my gosh - delicious) fed some rice and even a pork chop or two (which he loved) to Moy Moy).
We talked and we bonded. Here he is eating the pork chop.
We talked and we bonded. Here he is eating the pork chop.
He became my mate. He liked to groom me, sitting on my head looking for lice, as moneys do to their own.
You then had to the same back and he’d hang from his pole, eyes rolled back in ecstasy as you pretended to rummage through his fur to find ticks and lice. He loved it.
When it came to leaving Mary’s, a very very sad day all round, Moy Moy I think realized and was so sweet. He would not let go of me, and jumped back to hold on tight if I put him back on his pole. So sweet.
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