Pet Monkey

The boys are always asking if they can have a dog. I mean, they really, really want one. They even know what kind. The problem? Their parents. Oh, we blame the allergies we all suffer from, but really, even without them, there is no way I would bring an animal into our home to take care of --I have 3 men to look after already.

Plus, I think, who needs a dog when you already have a pet monkey? As a kid growing up on Disney movies (think Swiss Family Robinson) and Michael Jackson and his friend "Bubbles" (Thriller was big when I was in elementary), I really, really, really wanted a pet monkey. My parents let us have dogs, birds, fish, and gerbils (all of which met untimely deaths or ran for their lives.)-- but they refused me my monkey (Oh, and that pony I always wanted, but that is another blog post or therapy session.)

Now I have one! We named him Romney and he is almost 8 years old. He is cute, cuddly, furry (see his hair), kinda messy, often cheeky, lovable, and, at times a little mischievous.