A lemur doing the Monkee Walk? Of course that wasn’t unintentional.

I don’t even know how to concentrate any more. The rest of the workday is a write-off. I’m reeling from my encounter. Thinking about matters of such little import as station logs pale in significance to what just transpired. Any ill intent I felt towards my job has dissipated in the short term.

It all started in the kitchen. I went in to make myself some tea. Co-workers and I started chatting, fuelled by a fortuitous fruit platter of mysterious origin. Someone pointed out an unusual sight in the atrium. Someone was walking with what looked like a monkey on their back. Literally, not idiomatically. On closer inspection, it was a lemur. It was fuzzy and I immediately wanted it as my best friend. My mind flashed into a montage. Randy Newman in the background. Lemur and I eating ice cream together, doing The Monkees walk, painting the living room while accidentally brushing one another, Lemur pushing me on a swing, helping me prepare a defence for my dissertation. You know, typical bro stuff.

The person noticed us watching and waved. We waved back. She gave us a friendly come hither and we came. Hither. We bolted to grab our phones and get in the elevator. We approached where we’d last seen the lemur and were told he’d disappeared into the station. A lemur on the loose? Well now we were inside a living children’s story. Following around the corridor, we saw the lemur dart up the wall and onto the open cabling rack, suspended from the ceiling. The rack led above a glass door. Someone swiped their entry card and we avidly kept up. The lemur continued along the cabling and walked alongside the stair. His handler saw an opportunity and lured it over with treats, then grabbed it by the base of the tail. Apparently their tails are strong enough that doing so won’t hurt it whatsoever. I picked up a fallen treat and with the handler’s blessing, fed the scruffy little fuzzpot. Delighted and beaming, we were told that it was the lemur’s turn to go in studio, but the lynx would be coming out in a minute.

A Motherfucking Lynx.

Its handler brought out the lynx, ostensibly a dog sized lion. It was goddamn fluffy and lithe, climbing all around the place. The lynx settled down on a table and its handler called us over. “Come and get close, she’s really friendly.” I needed no further encouragement. I sat down on the table and cuddled the massive cat into my lap. It was like stroking a huge living beanie baby. It purred as I stroked its head and neck, while I sat there frozen with excitement.

Why isn’t an afternoon petting zoo mandatory every day?


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