Comfort contact ~ Rhesus Monkeys ~ and Ace

Many of you regular readers may have figured out that your host is going thru a personal hell. I wouldn't wish this hell on Kim jong Il, Amadnajadine or my exwife. The truth is; I can count on one hand, the number of tears I cried after my last spanking as a kid.

Up until March of last year that is.

Many of you may remember the emotional trauma I faced when Max (my German Shepherd companion of 9 years) died the same time they starved Terri Schiavo to death. It was an unexpected "hemangiocarcoma" (cancer) of the spleen. Many of you didn't know that we had gotten a companion for Max named Buffy. She was an American bloodline GSD that we rescued from the Olympia national forest. Buffy survived Max only to die suddenly in December of an Optic Neuroma (brain/eye cancer). I guess they say that when human couples lose a mate, the other dies on the average of 2 to 7 years later. Well in dog years, that was about right. I loved both Max and Buffy dearly.

In August of 2003, Corrine and I rescued Chipper. (a brown tabby) who was, after Max died, our favorite pet. Chipper bonded with Max as his only parent, then with us as make do surrogates. When Max died, Chipper bonded with Buffy. In between Max's death and Buffy's death, we got Wolfgang. A world class AKC inter-continental champion. Chipper tried bonding with Wolf after Buffy died, but Wolf was too young and just wanted to play tackle.

On September 28th, Chipper left and hasn't been seen since. I've gotten to be on a first name basis with all of the Animal techs at the San Jose animal care center, the Santa Clara humane society, and the Saint Martin, Santa Clara county animal control shelter.

I drive 200 plus miles a day from Monterey to look for Chipper. If you've seen this handsome little critter, please email me.

In addition to losing the 3 pets, other chaos that I can't talk about is reigning in my life. It all seems so "surreal" as I now live in beautiful Monterey Bay in a beach condo, WITH a view and audio of the waves crashing against the beach. Yet I've failed twice at attempts to end it all thanks to a dull knife and weak generic pills. Thoughts of Kurt Cobain keep haunting me in my sleep. I've been crying daily since August 12th. A day has not gone by without these eyes burning with tears. The crying is like a stuck record. It's suppose to get better the more you cry; but I don't see an end. Perhaps like Kurt Cobain, maybe a Glock is the answer.

But back to the topic. In the mid 20th century, a scientist named Harry Israel Harlow, did experiments with Rhesus monkeys involving surrogate mothers. He gave young babies 2 mothers to choose from; a terry clothed mother with no food and a Wire mother with a feeding bottle. Overwhelmingly, the babies clung to the terry cloth mother. I guess they would go to the nipple to feed off of the wire mother, then hurry back to the soft and fuzzy TC mother.

Harlow concluded that the monkeys had an inherent desire for "Contact Comfort". Even after the monkeys were old enough to eat solid foods, they still "clung" to the soft TC mother.

Does this give you a deeper understanding for the parentless children in this country? Can you imagine the impact it has when divorce separates parents when a child is at a young age, and the mother has to go to work leaving the child in "day care". All FOR THE AMERICAN DREAM OF 2 CARS and A HOUSE IN THE BURBS.

My mom died when I was 11. She was an olympic alcoholic that drank herself to death in a period of 6 months. In addition to painfully abandoning her children (me being the youngest) She slammed the door on any chance of reasoning with her. Not only did alcohol end her miseries, but it created a whole new batch of new ones for the living she left behind. Me in particular. Do you know what denial is? "My mom is dead" is not something you share with the kids on the monkey bars. I remember being sent to the office for "acting out", only to have the secratery ask me "Is your mom at home? Wait til she hears about this." I was demoralized.

9 years later my dad died of natural causes. So before I was old enough to drink alcohol, I was already orphaned. Nobody to hold me. No "comfort contact". No warmth. No one to say it'll be better. No one to kiss it and make it feel better. No one to tell me "That's a stupid Idea".

Not even a damn piece of Terry Cloth.


Ace out.........................