When I was a little girl I had this thing about monkeys, not just monkeys, but to be “PC” Chimps, Apes, Gorillas, all Simians in general. I would go around making monkey faces and noises at complete strangers. It was my way of letting my parents know how desperate I was to have a monkey of my own. I guess I thought if they didn't let me have a monkey, I would start acting like one until they couldn't take it anymore and give in. I begged and pleaded with them to please get me a pet monkey, but to no avail. Their answer was always the same, “When you are old enough and have a house of your own, you can get yourself a monkey.” I had no choice but to accept it and I just knew that someday I would have a monkey of my own. The movies and television of the 70’s burned long-lasting images deep into my psyche. Most children look forward to Thanksgiving every year for the turkey, mashed potatoes, family gatherings, a time to be thankful for their many blessings. I, on the other hand, looked forward to Thanksgiving because I knew one of the big television networks would replay the black and white versions of Mighty Joe Young and King Kong. Remember, this was before VHS, DVD, TIVO, and Cable so you couldn’t just see those films anytime you felt like it; you had to wait for them to come around. There was something very soothing to me about little Joe Young in his baby basket listening to the music box that played “Beautiful Dreamer” which Jill, in the spoils of Africa would play to calm little Joe down and lull him to sleep.

Of all the fairy tales and fables, none of them appealed to me more than beauty and the beast. I’m not talking about the modern day Disney version with Bell, the Candlestick, and teacup characters; I’m talking about the hardcore classics where the beasts were fighting bloody battles against humans, gigantic snakes, and Godzilla-type monsters. Back in those days, every Sunday they played the old Tarzan films from the 1930’s that I also looked forward to. Cheetah, the Chimp made me laugh and cry. My one true talent is being able to do the perfect Cheetah impersonation. To this day, I have been known to do the Cheetah laugh in public at bars with too much alcohol in my system. I remember that Johnny Weissmuller was the first man I started to “have feelings for “ and I remember being so envious of Jane having a big burly man who was half ape, all to herself in the jungle. This man who could speak to the animals, wrestle crocodiles, protect her from every little danger, and who would never talk back to her because he only knew a handful of words, the important ones.” Tarzan Love Jane”. “Tarzan get food”. “Tarzan Jane Sleep now”. Tarzan was my perfect man.

Also big in the 70’s TV monster genre was my favorite series, Planet of the Apes. I had all the original Action Figures and remember going on long car rides with my grandparents, sitting in the back seat amusing myself with my Zira and Cornelius dolls, making up my own scenes and fairly elaborate plotlines for the curious mind of a 1st grader.

But the one that really pushed me over the edge was the 1976 Dino De Laurentis version of King Kong starring Jessica Lange and Jeff Bridges. This was the very first movie I ever saw in the theatre, on the big screen. I was 6 years old. I remember my heart pounding in the first scene where you meet Kong. I thought my heart would jump right out of the chest of my pink courduroy overalls as he moved swiftly through the jungle to get to the object of his affection, Jessica Lange. The sound of the trees crunching under the sheer weight of him, the big loving eyes he looked at her with, the bellowing roar he let out at the sight of her, and the way he held her in his hand under the waterfall to clean her and then blew hot hair from his mouth to dry her off. I remember thinking I would be totally happy living on Skull Island with King Kong, having him take care of me.

Most of all, I remember being inconsolable in the final scene when he was shot down by men, the sound of helicopters to this day makes me very unsteady. I remember a bloody and defeated Kong plummeting down off the Twin Towers, landing smack down onto the concrete slab of what is today, the Hallowed Ground of September 11th. I remember his heart beat slowing, slowing, and Jessica Lange racing to be at his side. She held onto him and listened to the heartbeat fading, slower, and slower until finally nothing. I was traumatized. Looking back on it, I’m surprised my mother would take a 6 year old to a film that was so intense, but maybe it was that she knew I was mature for my age, or she knew how much I loved gorillas, or maybe that she just wanted to see the film too and had to bring me along. Who knows, I have had to learn to forgive both of my parents for things they did because they either just didn’t know any better or were simply doing the best they could with the tools they had at that time. In any event, I was obsessed and forever changed by it; I would play for hours with my King Kong Colorforms and activity sets. I would go off into the woods, to the mountain we lived on and I would swing from vines, go off into caves, and dream of an ape finding me and whisking me away to some great adventure. But it never happened as you might have guessed.

Cut to, 28 years later and I sometimes find myself placing my hand on Pugsley’s belly while he is resting comfortably. This of course, is only after I have tucked him into his dog basket and placed next to him, his stuffed animal/music box that plays "Beautiful Dreamer" and lulls him to sleep. I watch my hand move up and down his belly to the rhythm of his inhales and exhales. I catch myself doing it from time to time and I wonder why. Is it because I find the patterns of his breath so soothing and grounding that in doing so, I am able to slow down my own scattered breathing to match his contented pace? Is it because I sometimes just long to be close to another living, breathing creature who could never let me down or disappoint me? Is it that I know our time together is fleeting and I want to feel him breathing and alive (like Jessica Lange did in the final act) and burn that image so deeply into my brain that I will be able to conjure up the memory 30 years from now? Is it a coincidence that I prefer living near the woods instead of the city or that I have chosen to share my life with a dog who has the face and tail of a monkey and a silver-back like the male alpha gorillas of the jungle? Am I still that little girl wandering the woods, waiting for my big hairy ape-man prince to come and rescue me? All of the above I suspect. Now that I am old enough and have a place of my own, well...I still don't have my monkey, but I do have Pugsley as my monkey stand-in, and he is an excellent one at that.