I looked at the Instagram photos of exotic pets. Monkeys, kinkajous, and lemurs being some I found hard to wrap my head around. I couldn’t express why. I stared at their little faces. Their eyes. They were cute. Very cute. But I couldn’t ever imagine owning one.
It bothered me. Spiders I could own. Never bothered me at all. Rats and rodents wouldn’t be an issue. Lizards and snakes weren’t out of the question. Of course cats and dogs were fine by me. Pigs, yes, I would own one if I could. Wolves and foxes would be pretty neat. Monkeys? No. Lemurs? No. But why? Why not? Why couldn’t I put my finger on it?
Their hands. Their little hands would grab and touch. They would come across as more sentient to me. More human. They would reach for me that heart wrenching way cats do when they want out of a cage, but the cage wouldn’t be necessary. They would reach for something to hold. To hold me. Grab at things. Throw them. They would see with their eyes and touch with their hands. Would they though? Did they behave more human? I suppose not, but it couldn’t help but think of them like that. I could never own something that reminded me of something human. It even bothered me to play with dolls as a kid, to behave as though I owned a person.
I couldn’t ever own something that had hands, or paws that looked like hands.
Hands feel so sentimental. So necessary, but emotional. Emotional beings hand hands. They would reach out for comfort. Reach out for desires. Wants and needs. Hold the hands of their lovers. Create beautiful things with them. Care for and harm with them. Hands were for cognitive beings with thoughts beyond themselves and their circumstances. Does that mean such creatures are the same? Are they instinctual only, or do they feel beyond the rational, as humans do?
I don’t know. But I wouldn’t want a pet that hand hands.