A monkey stole G’s glass of wine off the porch of our cottage in Kabini national forest, ran about 20 feet away and drank it (very primly) from the glass whilst staring directly at G. Then she proceeded to lick each long monkey-finger, getting whatever wine sloshed over the rim during her escape. Bitchy monkey, bitchy.
At least G has a monkey story to take back to snowy NY. And we have plenty more wine. No harm, no foul.
Monkey, I’m naming you “Ramona Singer” (even though it was Sauv Blanc, not Pinot Grigio).