Negra, the Queen of the Cle Elum Seven, passed peacefully yesterday afternoon. She was estimated to be between 53 and 58 years old.
Over the last several months, Negra had become progressively weaker, eventually losing the use of her legs. As her condition worsened in recent days, she became prone to prolonged bouts of discomfort and exhaustion. With little hope for relief or improvement, we made the decision to limit her suffering through euthanasia. She was surrounded by her human friends and her chimp family.
I won’t write her obituary today. I don’t have the time or the wherewithal at the moment to do justice to her story. More importantly, it is a story that is best told by everyone that knew and loved her. We all reveal different parts of ourselves to different people, and each of us knew Negra in a different way. I am looking forward to learning more about what she revealed to my fellow caregivers over the coming weeks.
For now, I simply want to say this:
Negra, you did it.
I didn’t think you could. I’m ashamed to admit that when we first met you in that windowless laboratory basement, our expectations for you were low. You had survived nearly four decades of being stolen, sold, confined, bred, experimented on, discarded, and forgotten about. You had survived, but you had suffered all that you could. At that time, death would have brought welcome relief.
But you persevered. You moved forward slowly—glacially, but always forward. You eventually found reasons to get out of bed. You found joy in playing with your friends. You learned to trust your caregivers, even though our species lost any and all rights to ask for your trust decades ago. You found the courage to explore. You found comfort in warm blankets and sunshine. And most importantly, you found peace.
I will mourn your absence. I’ll miss your outstretched arm greeting me each morning. I’ll miss your gentle kisses on my wrist, and the feeling of your breath on the back of my hand. I will miss celebrating your little victories.
But I, too, am at peace. Because your passing yesterday is less a tragedy than a fulfillment of a wish we had all those years ago—that you would not just survive, but, at last, find joy in being alive. And you did, for over 18 years. We are so fortunate to have lived those years with you.
We have so much more to say, but until then—
We love you, we miss you, and we’re grateful to have known you.
