I think it’s time for some tough love, folks.

Apparently, there are nutjobs out there who are raising monkeys like they were kids. They even call them “monkids.” Aw, how cute.

Lori Johnson was lonely and depressed after her youngest son left home in 1992. She yearned for another child to love. So Johnson bought a baby monkey…

At Gemini Springs in DeBary recently, Johnson pushed “Jessy” around in a toy-filled red stroller, a sight that drew attention. “Hey, it’s a real monkey,” hollered one youngster, who did a double take.

Johnson replied with a grin: “That’s not a monkey; that’s my kid.”

Oh, you’re funny, you are. Equating a living, breathing, thinking HUMAN child with your self-indulgent whim to own and raise a freaking MONKEY. And you actually HAVE a real kid? Good gravy.

I notice this all the time–batty women (not usually men) who paste pictures of their pets up in their cubicles at work, maybe Fluffy or Spot sitting on Santa’s lap at Petco, and refer to these animals as their “kids.”

I’m sorry–I have a kid, and I’ve had pets, and PETS ARE NOT KIDS.

I know it’s easy to love a dog, or a cat, or even a monkey–I’ve been there myself. It’s only natural to develop bonds with these animals and I do believe the animals themselves share some sense of feeling and emotion and attachment. (Well, except cats–the only cats I ever knew were attached to their owners as long as the food, water, and litter kept coming. Those are some ruthless-ass beasts.)


When we get a dog, and it dies, it will be upsetting, and I will be shaken, and “what a shame” and all that. Then I’ll get another dog, and life will go on.

If my daughter were to die, you would be RIPPING OUT PART OF MY SOUL.

So newsflash, people: “Monkids” are NOT KIDS; neither is Fluffy or Spot. Calling them “my kids” is not charming or amusing; it’s creepy and weird.

1 Comment so far

  1. xmelinda on April 10th, 2008 @ 11:23 am

    Don’t take this the wrong way — I totally agree with you about the creepiness and flat-out WRONGness of "monkids" and everything that goes with it. However, speaking as someone who has three dogs and who has been trying unsuccessfully to have a kid for 6 years or more and who just turned 39, I can sympathize a little bit. I don’t call my dogs "my kids", but I do take way too many pictures of them, pictures I would probably be taking of my kid if I could have one. If I had a human kid AND dogs, then sure, the kid would take precedence, but having someone (even someone I am quite fond of) point out that their emotional connection to their kid is stronger than mine to my dogs just sort of rubs my face in the fact of not having a "real" kid, like "It’s a parent thing, you wouldn’t understand." I’m sorry, I swore I was never going to be one of THOSE types of indignant infertile women, but maybe I’ve just reached that level of pissed-off-at-my-defective-body. Anyway, my dogs ARE pretty awesome ;-) Oh, and also bear in mind that there are TONS of folks (not me) who think people with pics of their kids all over their cubicle are pathetic, too.

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