The Little Monkey Who Held On Until He Didn’t Need To

Punch was born at Ichikawa City Zoo. His mother did not nurse him. Keepers lifted him out of the enclosure and placed him in an incubator. His cry was thin, almost lost in the hum of the room. Someone gave him a stuffed monkey from IKEA. It was larger than he was. He gripped its arm. His nails pressed into the fabric and stayed there.

For the first day, he kept his face against the toy’s chest. An apple sat nearby. He ignored it. A bottle came close. He looked at the toy before he looked at the bottle. The toy was not his mother. It was warm enough. He slept with it. He woke with it. He carried it while he watched visitors tap the glass. When they tapped, he turned his head into the cotton. He breathed. The toy smelled of dust and floor.

Next door, the monkey group watched him through a net. He watched back. His arms tightened around the toy. When the net opened, keepers moved him to the monkey hill. He crouched in a corner. The toy stayed in his arms. A female monkey approached and sniffed him. He screamed. She stepped back. A young monkey grabbed his leg from behind and dragged him across the concrete. The toy slipped halfway out of his grip. He held it with one hand and clawed the ground with the other. White lines scraped into his nails. He screamed again. No monkey answered.

A video went online. People behind screens wrote comments. Some called it bullying. Some demanded a rescue. Others mailed new IKEA toys. Thirty of them filled the zoo office. One person offered money to adopt him. The zoo replied that Punch belonged with the monkey group. A keeper read the letter and put it in a drawer. The drawer already held other letters.

A keeper washed the toy and set it beside him. He took it back. The next day, the toy was left outside. Rain soaked it. Its color darkened. Punch sat under the eaves and watched the rain. He reached out. He pulled his hand back. He looked at the monkey group. They crowded into the cave. He stood and walked over. He stopped at the entrance. No monkey looked at him. He sat down with his back to the toy.

In the days that followed, he watched the alpha’s eyes. When the alpha looked at him, he lowered his head. When the alpha moved away, Punch moved. He waited until the others finished eating. Then he picked up what was left. He rubbed his back on a rock instead of reaching for a keeper’s hand. He sat lower. He avoided stares. When a larger monkey came near, he made a small sound and kept his teeth covered.

The toy stayed in the corner. It dried. It got wet. It dried again. No one took it. Punch walked past. The first time, he did not stop. The second time, he smelled it. The third time, he kept walking. Rain returned. The toy grew heavy. Mud climbed its leg. A fly sat on its ear.

He began to groom an old monkey. The old monkey pushed him away. He waited. He reached out again. The old monkey did not move. Punch groomed for ten minutes. The old monkey stood and left. Punch followed two steps and stopped. The next day, he tried again. The old monkey sat down and turned its back. Punch groomed. His fingers moved through the fur. He found a tick and put it in his mouth. The old monkey turned its head and looked at him once. Punch kept grooming. His hands shook. He kept going. The old monkey closed its eyes. Another monkey came close. Punch froze. The old monkey opened its eyes. The other monkey walked away. Punch breathed and returned to the fur.

That night, he did not go back beside the toy. He slept at the edge of the group. Three meters from the alpha. Ten meters from the toy. He woke before the others. He looked at the corner. The toy was still there. He did not go down.

The keeper wrote in the logbook: Punch groomed once today. Was groomed zero times. Toy not taken.

Another week passed. Another young monkey bumped into him. He did not scream. He crouched and moved aside. The young monkey walked on. Punch followed. The young monkey turned its head. Punch stopped. The young monkey did not chase him off. They sat on a rock together. Sun lay on their fur. Punch groomed his own arm for a long time. A small monkey came near and touched his shoulder. It groomed him once. A quick touch. Then it stopped. Punch stayed still. The small monkey left. Punch stayed. He did not follow.

At dusk, he climbed. He sat on the top of the monkey hill. Wind came from the sea. He groomed. His fingers moved through red fur. Below him, the toy lay in the corner. Its fur was matted. A monkey walked past and stepped on it. The toy sank into the mud. Punch did not look down. He looked at the water. He looked at the sky. He put a hand on his own knee. He sat there.

The keeper turned off the lights. The logbook closed. See you tomorrow.