That monkey was gonna be trouble; I knew it from day one. Ok, so I don’t have opposable thumbs but I’ve done damned good by the gimp. Yes, he has a name but I can’t pronounce it and let’s not play with words. He’s a cripple in a wheelchair.

The worst thing about being a service dog to a cripple? Never getting my butt scratched. No physical contact beyond the occasional flopped hand over my head. Nice. Still I’ve been a loyal, hard working “companion” and this is what I get? The next sucky thing about being a service dog to a cripple? I can’t quit.

So, yeah, I’d seen him doing the research on that special computer of his where he tilts his head and blows into a tube and knew something was up. But he’s always on that computer and I wasn’t really paying attention. Then the rotten little fuck arrived and my life is over. I’m sure the gimp has some cheery name for the primate but who cares? It’s the only monkey in the house.

Right away, it’s adorable. Once, and only once, it tried to ride me like I was a horse. The gimp thought that was cute as hell; it was the first time I’d seen him smile in months so I went along with the gag until I got around the corner, knocked the thing off my back and bared my teeth at it. Never fazed the little bastard. He chattered and scampered back in to climb up the gimp’s arm and perch on his shoulder.

I have to accept the new division of labor. Monkey rules here in the apartment but when the gimp needs to go somewhere it’s the cage for Monkey and out we go. I always give one low, contemptuous sweep of my tail before the door closes and the silence behind us tells me all I need to know. Monkey does not rule all and it knows it.

I also have to accept that the gimp is happy again. I came to him shortly after his accident or whatever and, man, did I miss my loving, fun foster home. I had children to romp with and a wonderfully stern woman who spent hours with me every day, patiently teaching me to open doors, close doors, fetch things, turn on light switches, nudge things around. Then, bang, here I am with this pissed off cripple who can’t even scratch me behind the ears.

Now he laughs. He laughs! And some babe is coming around now, snuggling up with him and Monkey to watch movies. The babe is my doing. Other women have used me as an excuse to start conversations with the gimp but this is the first one to come to the apartment. And, of course, she’s captivated by that primate. Whatever. When she comes over I get my butt scratched.

We’ve got a not great development going on these days and I’m not sure I can do anything about it. The gimp is kind of never going out anymore. And that woman is here all the time. Worse, she’s doing our jobs and Monkey has had about enough. When the gimp isn’t looking, Monkey tosses turds at the back of her head. I have a better strategy. Me and Girlfriend, we are like this these days and I intend to keep it that way.

Even so the day comes when she moves the fuck in. That’s not the problem. The problem is she brings a goddamned cat with her. There’s about a minute there when she sets the cat carrier on the floor and I’m considering my options. When neither of them are looking I bare my teeth at the little fucker. The little fucker fixes me with those slitty, evil eyes and mouths something unrepeatable.

Then we get a load of Monkey.

Monkey is losing his shit and the gimp is trying to calm it down. Girlfriend looks worried but the gimp is all reassuring and shit. Oh my God, check this out, she’s opening the cat carrier. This is going to be so awesome.

Monkey got the surprise of his little primate life when he tried to fuck with Cat. Maybe he didn’t realize the kind of weaponry he was facing being all domesticated and shit. At any rate, the fur really did fly that day but most of it was Monkey’s.

When the agency came to collect Monkey they were shocked. I’m pretty sure all that whimpering and cowering on Monkey’s part was just show but those bald patches were for real. The lady from the agency tried to get all up in the gimp’s face about responsibility and care but Girlfriend turned out to be as bad ass as Cat.

Cat turns out to be not a bad sort all in all. Neither the gimp or the babe seem to miss Monkey. I am sort of surprised that I do. Monkey was a lot funnier than Cat.

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash