Little Tua

Tua was a baby
When I rescued him
From the villagers.
His parents
Had been killed
By hunters
There in the jungles
Of Southern Thailand,
And he was very sick,
More dead than alive.
One of his eyes
Was badly infected,
So I treated him with
Human eye medicine,
And to my surprise,
It worked.
Tua, the name I gave him,
Which means animal
In the Thai language,
Was a chamort,
Otherwise known as
A mortsang.
He was a nocturnal creature
With a reputation
For ferocity somewhat akin
To the wolverine
Back in North America,
And was supposed to be
Virtually untamable,
But he became
The best pet I ever had.
He was similar,
In body type,
To a mongoose,
Except they can grow
Up to four feet long,
Stand about two feet high,
And are natural experts
At climbing trees
In their jungle habitat.
He probably would have perished
Had I not discovered
His favorite delicacy by accident.
In moving a box
To make way
For my new guest,
I scattered a bunch
Of cockroaches,
And he immediately
Came to life,
And pounced on them
For a feast
Fit for a jungle king.
The poor thing
Must have been starving,
For I spent half the night,
Dislodging my
Unwelcome quests
So my new predator
Could dine.
From that night forward,
We were inseparable.
He would sleep
In the rafters
During the day,
And as soon as
Late evening came,
Down he would come,
Looking for food.
If I had already
Gone to bed,
He would come up
And grab my little finger
And give it a tug.
If I didn’t respond
Fast enough,
He would chomp down
A little harder
Until he was sure
I was awake,
So I could scare out
Some dinner for him.
Tua was a very smart
Little animal.
I suppose by the process
Of natural selection,
They have to be intelligent
To survive in the jungle.
I never had to toilet train him.
He saw me using
The toilet just once,
And got the idea immediately.
From then on,
He used the toilet,
Just like a real person.
I have had many dogs
Over the years,
But not a single one of them
Was anywhere near
As sharp as Tua.
He used to ride on my shoulder
Everywhere I went,
And when I was riding
My motorcycle,
He would come along too.
He seemed to love
The wind rushing through
And combing his hair.
He would travel up
To the headlight,
Then cross overtop of me,
And head down
The other side
To the tail light’
Then back again.
When I stopped
Near a tree,
He would jump off
And scurry to the top,
Catching a frog or two
On the way up,
And as soon as I
Got back on the motorcycle,
Down he would come,
And jump back up
On my shoulder.
The only trouble
I ever had with Tua
Was when I got a parrot.
I quickly discovered
That parrots were another
Delicacy in his eyes.
I would hear the parrot
Squawking late at night,
There would be Tua
On top of the cage
Trying desperately
To get to the bird.
I would grab his tail
And stick it in the cage
And let the parrot
Chomp down on it,
But it was a lesson
That had to be repeated
Over and over again
Every second or third night.
I would have loved
To have taken him back
To the United States with me,
But he would never
Have been allowed in.
Fortunately I found
Someone else who had one,
So I turned him over
To them before I left.
That was a good thing too,
Because he got so big
That he became
A burden to carry.
Just imagine
A forty pound animal
Expecting to ride
On my shoulder while
I motored down the street.
He was no longer
My little Tua.