When I first met Loretta, I told her who I was, why I was there and assured her that
I would not cause her any harm.
I promised her that I would get her out of this place.
I can’t begin to imagine what life at PPI was like for Loretta.
From what I saw, it was constant misery that must have felt like she was being punished
for something.
I can’t recall one single time when she appeared relaxed.
She probably has never climbed a tree or felt dirt between her toes or even felt grass.
The first thing I noticed about Loretta was that she was frightened of the other monkeys.
When I first started the job, the other monkeys in Loretta’s enclosure avoided getting close
to me, I suspect due to the fear of what employees have been doing to them … but not Loretta.
She would stay close to me because that meant the others would not come near her.
As time went on, Loretta’s hair began to thin.
More and more hair would be missing along with new scratches on her face and body each
week, until she was almost completely hairless.
Working at PPI, I was riddled with anxiety and extremely frustrated.
Driving to work, the closer I got to the lab, the more and more nauseous I would get—I
never knew what I was going to see.
I would plead with my superiors to find ways to help the animals who were stressed or sick,
but often it was to no avail.
Most days, I’d cry most of the way home.
One day, I found out that employees were going to catch and sedate all of the monkeys housed
in Loretta’s enclosure.
As soon as they were done taking her blood or sticking a needle in her eyelid (or whatever
else they were doing to her), I held her in my arms like a baby.
She was sedated.
I held her close to me and tried to give her so much love, I guess through osmosis.
The other employees were nearby, so I quietly told her that I loved her and I would help
her get out of this hellhole and that I was sorry that this was her life.
I brushed her head and her frail frame, seeing the scars and scratches all over her face
and body.
It hurt me to have to put my friend back, back into a situation where she only suffered
more beatings and stress.
I knew she had never been as safe as in my arms her entire life.
I think about her at least once a week now.
I’m not sure what triggers the memories.
At first, the feeling is warm and loving, and then it turns to sadness, anger, and motivation.
I used to constantly dream about visiting Loretta and all the other monkeys who were
held at PPI but, this time, at a beautiful sanctuary with real trees for them to climb,
dirt and grass for them to roll around on.
Loretta would remember me, come over to me, and give me a warm thankful look then she
would run off to play with her friends and forget all of the pain and suffering she had
endured.
But, you know, I don’t know what happened to Loretta.
It’s hard to think about it.
I have a feeling that she’s still alive, suffering at PPI, waiting to be shipped to
a testing facility.
As much as I wish for the happy ending where she’s playing with her friends, probably
the best that I can hope for her is that her suffering has already ended.