THE DOWNTOWN SHERMAN TEXAS MONKEY

     For many years Kreager’s Feed and Seed was located on west Houston street, about half a block from the court house in downtown Sherman.   I enjoyed the dusty, musky smell in the dimly lit, cool cavern-like store.   

     Mr. Kreager had a sign by the front door which read, “Beware of Dog”.  I initially found this funny because the only dog on the premises was a very old, partially blind, stinky, flea bag of a mutt, with few teeth who snored in the middle of the store.  I quizzed Mr. Kreager why customers had to “Beware”.  He said,  “I want them to beware not to step on my dog.  He is an old man and has earned the right to nap without someone tripping over him.”

     The store also boasted a brightly colored parrot which stood on a red pedestal.  When Mr. Kreager was occupied elsewhere, we were able to teach the bird to recite all the profanity we knew.  He was eventually reprogramed by his owner and kept closer to the main counter, under management’s watchful eye.

     The focal point of Kreager’s Feed and Seed was his spider monkey.  The monkey had a cage,  an adjacent stand and he brooked no nonsense.  When he felt inclined, he would leap onto the back of the old, snoozing dog, startle him awake and ride him around the store at a gallop.  If we teased the monkey, he would place his hand beneath his bottom, fill it with monkey poop and throw it at us.   He seemed to be able to do this at will and for as long as he deemed necessary.  The monkey would draw his throwing arm past his ear, just like Don Meredith, pitch it as we were racing for the exit, snap his wrist at the last second and smack us with a handful of monkey manure,  just as we got to the door.  His trajectory was remarkable and if one teased him too much, he would throw down on you the next time you came through the door.

     In my junior year, our school presented the play, “Inherit the Wind”, based upon the Scopes Monkey Trial, which challenged the teaching of evolution.   The script called for a monkey grinder, with a live monkey as a point of reference in the play.

     I had a part in the play, as did my sidekicks George Head and Bobby Ward.  We came up with the brainstorm of asking Mr. Kreager if we could borrow the monkey for the play.  He agreed, as long as we brought the monkey home each night from practice and the play itself.  

     The feed store was a couple of blocks from the high school and we walked down, put the monkey on a leash to walk him back.   No sooner were we outside than he became frightened, jumped on my head and pooped down my neck and back.  George and Bobby attempted to get him off of me, but this only made him made him angry and he held on to my head, scratching and biting my ears.  We finally pried him loose, took him back inside the feed store and got his cage.  We put him inside and carried him to school for rehearsal.  We kept him on a short leash, returned him to the shop at night and it appeared all would go well.    

     The night of the play we rounded him up, took him to school in the cage for his one scene.  As the stage hands were taking him out of the cage, the monkey bolted across the stage, raced up the curtain and was positioning his hand to fill it up with new missiles to hurl onto the crowd below.    Fortunately he had his leash on and was pulled from the top of the curtain before he could rain down his bombs of terror to the unsuspecting audience.  His theatrical career was over and our director/drama teacher, Jerry Young, vowed to never use another animal in a play.

     When we got the monkey back to the store, we let him out of his cage.  He promptly jumped onto the back of the old dog and galloped a victory lap.

      A few months later I dropped by to see Mr. Kreager and the monkey.  Mr. Kreager told me the monkey had died (perhaps upon realizing his career in the theatre was over).  It was an emotional moment for Mr. Kreager…his monkey died and a few weeks later his old dog died.  He said the only exercise his dog received was when the monkey would jump on his back and force him to run laps around the store.  With a crestfallen face he said, “That old dog knew that monkey had died… it just broke his heart and he died too.”