Punch: Baby monkey makes us laugh, cry, see ourselves in his struggle

“I am Punch and he is me.”

This is what my daughter recently texted in our family group chat. Her older sister had just asked us if we were “on the baby Punch-kun side of TikTok” because she had become like a “Facebook Mom, watching videos of him all day.”

If we weren’t before, we are now.

Punch is, as millions of his fans know, a 7-month-old macaque monkey living at Ichikawa City Zoo, outside Tokyo. Rejected at birth by his mother, he was initially cared for by zookeepers before being reintroduced to the monkey enclosure. His early attempts to fit in did not go well; the other monkeys gave him either the cold shoulder or a very hard time.

Until recently, his only comfort was a large orangutan plush toy that some brilliant member of staff gifted him as a tool for muscle building and maternal replacement.

Videos of the shy and utterly adorable Punch tentatively circling the larger monkeys, only to flee to the solace of his stuffy after being rebuffed, have drawn increasingly large crowds to the zoo and mesmerized millions on social media.

Messages of encouragement, often accompanied by memes of women (and men) sobbing into their phones over the sight of a yet-again-rejected Punch wrapping himself in the arms of his orangutan “mother,” or cheering as he slowly begins to be accepted by other monkeys, are almost as plentiful as the Punch videos themselves.

“I am Punch and he is me” is clearly a sentiment shared by many. Including those who, like my youngest daughter, were not (as I swiftly pointed out in the group chat) rejected in any way by their own mother.

Everyone knows what it’s like to feel small and bewildered as you circle a social group, seeking a way in, just as everyone knows what it’s like to be rejected by those whose approval we seek.

Of course some of us wept and raged when he once again had to flee some bigger monkey that he had clearly annoyed, but while Punch was certainly cowed, he was never broken. It was impossible not to admire his essential grip when he tried again, and to be reminded that none of us are alone in our attempts to fit in.

When Punch drags his stuffy around the enclosure, you can see some of the older monkeys giving him the side-eye — he is definitely the odd kid in the class, the one who always wore a space helmet or insisted she was a kitten. But the joy that little monkey feels for his orangutan, which he uses as shield, surrogate and playmate, is both heartbreaking and heartwarming.

As he nestles into its body, we see the primal need most animals, including humans, have for touch, for embrace. Of course he drags it around everywhere; short of the zoo staff, whose legs he also clutches, it‘s his only conduit of security.

Which is also something that many, if not all, of us understand. Anyone who says they have never had some personal item or talisman that, just by its presence, made them feel better is either lying, forgetting or a psychopath.

Why do you think teddy bears and Jellycats exist or “The Velveteen Rabbit” was written? In the era of “peak cozy,” with its devotion to lap blankets, hoodies and fleece-lined everything, no one could fail to understand Punch’s attachment to his comfort object.

When I was very small, I had, as many children do, a security blanket known as “Blankie.” It was pink and soft, with a satin edge and an oval stain caused by a regrettable interaction with Silly Putty. I talked to it, slept with it and carried it everywhere; when my mother insisted it be washed, I would sit in front of the dryer waiting for it to emerge.

When it somehow got lost in the hospital while I was recovering from a tonsillectomy, I was so traumatized that my mother drove back to the hospital for days in hopes that it would turn up. It never did but 55 years later, I can see, and feel, my Blankie still.

So I too am Punch and he is me.

Now that the Baby Monkey Who Could is finding comfort, grooming and companionship from others of his kind, there may come a time when he no longer needs his big stuffed orangutan.

Fortunately, it’s available at IKEA for anyone out there who might.