Jenny

JENNY
Species: Japanese Snow Macaque
DOB:  Assigned date 11/3 (no year)
Arrived at SPS: Arrived at SPS 2/22/14
Origin:  A previous pet, lived in Winter Springs FL.  Her longtime roommate at SPS, Joey, died a few years ago. 

Jenny is a small snow macaque with a big spirit. Though she may be one of the gentler souls at the sanctuary, she carries a playful fire in her step and a clever glint in her eye. Her caregivers describe her as a “little firecracker”—quick to play, full of spark, and delightfully expressive. 

Each morning, Jenny quietly demonstrates just how intelligent and trusting she is. Diagnosed with diabetes, she’s been trained to come to the edge of her enclosure and calmly turn around for her daily insulin injection. It’s a moment of grace and cooperation—a powerful testament to the deep relationship she’s formed with her caregivers and the quiet courage she brings to each day.

But Jenny’s not all sweetness. She has a bit of sass, too. She loves to play games like “get that bad monkey,” where she enthusiastically attacks her toy monkey with throws and well-placed bites. She plays a similar game with her “bad truck,” pushing it all around her space, biting it in mock protest as if defending her territory from some imaginary invader.  

Jenny also enjoys music and DVDs and though she only has a few teeth she loves corn on the cob, which she eats with determined focus. Jenny loves to eat and has a huge appetite, though her diet has to be monitored due to her diabetes.  She surveys all food that passes by her enclosure and YELLS OUT WITH A SCREAM that can be heard through the sanctuary, demanding food or a taste of whatever is passing by her.  Make no mistake, she keeps caregivers on time with the food schedule.  She can also be observed washing or soaking her food at times in a bowl of water. 

Her world is full of little joys—favorite toys, routines she’s mastered, and connections she chooses on her own terms. With her spark, trust, and unmistakable personality, Jenny reminds us that every primate has a voice—and a way of making sure we hear it.