Paul is the official cage cleaner, with help from Chiquito. But I did it for ten days when Paul returned to the States for his Dad’s funeral.

I don’t mind cleaning cages. In fact, I considered it a privilege when I volunteered in the Brazilian tapir exhibit at Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle… and the pay is still the same.

I just prefer to do it without “help” from the animals (I’ve seen Paul spray Chiquito with the hose when he gets too rambunctious). So my plan is always to lock Chiquito out of his cage in the double-door security hallway while I’m cleaning.

It feels like a scene from a French movie as I go in and out the various doors (there are three into the hall; one at either end to the outside, and one from the garage) to get set up.

Then I put Chiquito’s food dish at the very end of the hallway, let him out, and drag the hose into his cage… hoping to be faster than a spider monkey.

He grabs a piece of food and joins me in mere nanoseconds, so I wait until he goes back for something else to eat, bang the door closed, and slide the bolt.

I glance out to make sure I put the clips on all of the other doors, but one of them is around a corner and I can’t see it. (Note to self for future cage design.)

Cage cleaning is a daily routine, and for me, each morning turns out to be much like the day before, and the day before that. I bonk my head on one of the tires hanging from the ceiling.

I peer out into the hallway yet again to confirm that I put the clips back on the latches, although this time I try to see the reflection (in a window) of the door that’s around the corner — with no luck.

Chiquito is ecstatic when I finally open the door to let him back “into” the cage. He whinnies and hugs my head, offering me a pectoral sniff, and I shuffle out into the hallway to get the plastic chair wearing a monkey on my face.

Then he sits on the chair while I carry it into the cage, I squeeze onto the seat beside him, and we share some quality time. Today I take a photo of my foot got sniffed, licked, and nibbled.

On the off chance that it’s spider monkey foreplay, I dig into my pocket for raisins and Chiquito is easily distracted.

The cage walls and floor need a deep cleaning on occasion, and we’ve been lucky enough to borrow a gas-powered pressure washer. Unfortunately the noise level and smell are just too much for the monkeys (hence my only monkey bite), and we’re hoping to buy an electric pressure washer for $200.

[custom_script adID=97]

It’s clear that Monkey Mom Michele and Monkey Dad Paul Gawenka are doing this for the love these incredible monkeys – it certainly is not for the money which they have been spending to try and provide an environment where they can rest and recover before they are released…

After we published our first article in this series, I and a few other VIP Members paid some money into Paul Gawenka’s PayPal account (pgawenka@yahoo.com) to help with the costs for a new enclosure…

Michele and Paul don’t have some fancy ‘charity’ that you can contribute to but they’ve given us their personal guarantee that every penny that you may give goes towards helping the animals – they don’t want a dime for themselves – so please log into your PayPal account and follow my lead and send them a US$100 to pgawenka@yahoo.com or make a donation through Chip In below.

Andrew Makarik

to@welovecostarica.com

Andrew Makarik is the main editor of WeLoveCostaRica, a fan of this sunny country. He is also a loving husband and a has a lovely daughter. By being a devoted family man and the biggest Costa Rica fan, he wants to make more people feel at home there. WeLoveCostaRica unites people and helps them find new home or a new travel destination. This website is a friendly community where everyone can find not only information, but also new friends and travel pals. Andrew is also passionate about IT and programming, so he himself maintains a friendly atmosphere in this cozy environment of WeLoveCostaRica.com.