Hobart is playing a game!

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It’s a long long story as to why my sister gave my husband a monkey at our wedding. She referred to him as the “marriage monkey” or something like that during her speech. I do remember it was very funny at the time but I don’t remember the exact words.

Looking at the tag later, I discovered that his name is Hobart. And on his tag it says “Hobart is playing a game.”

Hobart

This is Hobart. As you can see, he’s not very chatty.

Well, I soon discovered that his tag is accurate. Hobart has decided to move around the house, appearing wherever he sees fit.

Fortunately for him, his hands and feet are magnetic.

Unfortunately for him, we don’t have all that much in the way of metal in the house.

The night of the wedding he started here:

I didn’t say he was a smart monkey!

and thus began the newest activity in our house, finding Hobart. Or, Hobart is playing a game!

He continued his ascent:

Bored with this, Hobart moved on to the end table…

Possibly he was doing calisthenics?

Moved on to the living room…

When asked, he said “I’m just hanging around!”

And then moved on to the piano room…

“Play it Sam. Play it for me like you played it for her…” (His Bogey imitation is spot on!)

He had a brief sojourn on the windowsill, but the cat didn’t like it. He was leaning against the blinds and thus closing off her escape route when she hides behind there to look out.

Last night, he was waiting patiently for Ian to come home:

“You won’t BELIEVE what the flowers are doing out there!”

And this morning he is patiently waiting for the family to come downstairs…

“C’mon, admit it, I look sweet”

Thing is, no one ever sees him move!

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About ninian-poetree

I live in a sitcom. No seriously. I share a century home with an Englishman, my part-time sons, a step-daughter who visits every other year or so, a cat named Sophie and the latest addition, Hobart the (stuffed) monkey. I'm a mum, a writer, a teacher and an MUFC fanatic.

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