The Monkey in the Mall

I was walking in the mall with my family and Bella suddenly said, “Daddy, there’s a monkey in the mall.” Humoring her, I said, “Wow, that’s pretty cool.”

So we kept walking through Macy’s, past the overpriced T-shirts with skulls on them (who knew Goth would be so fashionable, Ed Hardy?) and soon we were out into the mall. A couple with a pet carrier went past us.

“There’s the monkey again,” exclaimed Bella.

“Honey, that’s a dog,” I replied condescendingly. Many “eccentric” people seem to think their little dogs like to be wheeled around in pet carriers at the mall. I’d seen it many times before. But Bella was not letting up.

“No, it’s a monkey.”

Okay, so now I was interested in seeing what kind of dog could actually look like a monkey. So I caught up to the people pushing the cat carrier. Sure enough, there was a monkey inside. A really, really, annoyed monkey. My first response (in my head) was: What the Fuck?! What type of crazy person owns a monkey, and then thinks the monkey needs to be taken for a walk at the mall in a cat carrier. Clearly the monkey did not agree. He looked scared and agitated.

Now I looked at the couple. They looked like an old Russian couple, and all I could think of were Russian circus performers who sought asylum in America 20 years ago, and somehow managed to convince customs officials to let them keep their monkey. Better than a dancing bear, I suppose.

We kept our distance from the potential star of Outbreak and wondered how far monkeys could really through their shit. Past the fountain, or all the way to Cinnabon? We didn’t stick around to find out.

Next time, when my daughter says something like “I just saw a rocket car” or “That elephant isn’t in his cage”, and we’re in Los Angeles, I will be more inclined to believe her.